Don't Stop Living

A Stop in Sopo *

2012-01-14T17:26:00.000+11:00

Sopo in Colombia (north east of Bogota) will hardly be remembered as a famous historic site or place of interest I visited. However I will remember it. Bland, poky and basic, it was from this town that I said my farewells to my Colombian hosts Julio, Paula and Claudia.

I had also never heard of Sopo before arrival in Colombia. It is a very typical small town. Uncommercial and untouristy, it also has a main road towards Tunja. This was key in my onward journey, as I managed to get a cheaper and shorter bus journey from Sopo all the way to Cucuta, Colombia's ugly border city to Venezuela.

Breakfast was at Julio's farm in Santa Ana Alta. Those crispy corn pancakes were outstanding, as was all the food I tried in Colombia.

Saying goodbye - a fond farewell to Zoroastro, Julio's Farm at Santa Ana Alta. I hope to return someday.

Central Sopo - it was here that I luckily managed to withdraw some cash - 10,000 Colombian Pesos. I still had on me about 100 US Dollars (essential for South America). I had about 2 weeks of money issues from Colombia onwards, called on help from my parents, yet managed to access some of my accounts from various places.

If things started to go wrong on the way to Venezuela for me, this all began in Sopo. I failed to get my US Dollars or Colombian Pesos changed anywhere into Venezuelan Bolivares. I knew this would be an issue as I would get ripped off at the border to swap them over. Even worse is that I had no idea where the next cash point would be on my journey. Coupled with the fact that even the next cash point may not be safe, and may not accept my cards.

Colombia is dodgy for cash points. People will try to forge your card, copy your pin, steal your card etc. In Sopo, I managed to withdraw 10,000 Pesos on one transaction. However I had asked for 30,000 and then 20,000 and been rejected. Julio later told me that for security some Colombian cash machines will set an ATM withdrawal limit per card per day, especially for foreign cards. The fact that I even got any money out was a Godsend and undoubtedly saved me from being stranded in the dodgy border city of Cucuta (which I had no intention of visiting for longer than 3 hours!).

But I needed to pay for my bus to Cucuta, and to buy a few presents for Julio and his family. The souvenir shop in Sopo was good and I picked up the presents I wanted for 10 US Dollars. I had a foresight that I should use the US dollars to pay rather than my Colombian Pesos as I could get ripped off if I had too many US dollars later. I will detail the Colombia - Venezuela border again, but basically I managed to get into Venezuela without paying the full fee for the border taxi (because I didn't have it on me, well I had some US dollars but kept that to myself), and gave them all my remaining Colombian Pesos. Looking back it actually ran quite smoothly, even though it took me about 5 hours to get from Cucuta to San Cristobal. Easily the worst border crossing I had ever done, made Ciudad del Este in Paraguay seem like a breeze.

Back to Sopo. The Church in the Square.

Me standing by the church in Sopo Square.

The main street in Sopo.

One of few information boards in Sopo.

Rural Sopo - where the town ends and my bus heading into green Colombian wilderness towards Tunja.

Random Russian style buildings - a Circus I'm led to believe - on the edge of Sopo by the bus station.

Sopo Bus Station. In all it's glory. Not a hint of sarcasm.

The view across the street at Sopo Bus Station. Hills and mountains in the background. Those are old Bogota and nearby buses that they put on a scrapheap or decide which ones or parts to re-use. An eyesore. But only if you don't enjoy looking at them.

The bus timetable - possibly. The company was Concorde and they do lots of bus services around Colombia. A few funny moments were to come on my Sopo experience. Julio helped me book the correct bus to Cucuta at the terminal, assuring me it was the safest one available (which it probably was - just no foreigners in sight!). I had no doubt it was - as Colombian buses go...

However while booking, the guy had asked for my passport and where it said "Nationality - British Citizen" he had thought that was my name. I then told him - "No my name isn't British", before realising "Oh actually it is British. I mean it's a British name." It all got a bit confusing and when I showed him the "Jonny" part of my passport, instead of reading it and writing it on my ticket he heard what I said as "Channer" instead of "Jonny" and wrote that on my ticket. We all had a laugh that it could be Chandler from US TV show Friends, but for me the funniest thing was that I now had a new name for leaving Colombia. My name for the remainder of my Colombian experience would be "Channer British". Julio was in stitches laughing, I keep ticket stubs for buses, trains, football matches etc. and this is one of the most comical to make up that collection. The guy was a bit dense really and the bus cost me 70,000 Pesos in the end. It said Bogota to Cucuta on my ticket, but he didn't charge me from Bogota, Colombia's capital which was already about 22 kilometres north east of the Bogota area (though further from the city centre).

The ticket office where the Colombian guy had given me a new name, as well as a ticket towards Venezuela. Julio and I described the dude as "mas loco", "very crazy". It just became a joke in a long run of good times with Julio Felipe. One of life's true gentlemen and a credit to his country, often tarnished by war (indeed recently a Colombian footballer playing in China was shot dead over a game of poker on his return to Colombia. Sad indeed.).

As we waited beside the dreary bus depot, Felipe told me a little bit about Sopo's historical significance and meaning. Basically a mountain town named after the rocky area nearby, it relied on livestock, cattle to maintain a trade and act as a settlement away from the madness of Bogota. It's hardly a nice town, but 21,000 local people live a sustained and unchanging life there. One which you may never want to live, but can only respect those who do.

We swapped presents in the car as we said our farewells. I got a salt holder for Claudia, Felipe's Mum which was funny as on the first night I wanted to use their salt holder to put in my tea, mistaking it for sugar. Paula, Felipe's sister I gave her a scarf. I hope she enjoyed it. Paula kindly let me use her computer a lot to use internet, which I think helped me book my hotel in Caracas and my guesthouse in Paramaribo.

I have a habit of carrying random different currencies in my wallet, and so my gift to Felipe was one of money - I gave him a 5 pound Northern Irish Northern Bank fiver (sometimes locally called a "flim"). I thought this would be a nice touch to say "you can spend it when you visit Irlanda del Norte someday". That 5 pound note had been my last money transaction in Belfast in 2009, so I had kept it as my lucky fiver on my travels. Indeed, the irony arose later as did my confirmation of my beliefs in superstition...This 5 pound note had been my lucky one, and one I would never give away (not for the value, but for the superstition) and for me it said a lot about my friendship and admiration for Julio that I could give him this fiver. Indeed my luck ran out. A bag slashing, vigourous border checks, attempted mugging, food poisoning, visa refusal and over inflation were all things I experienced in the next few days on leaving Julio and Sopo behind.

I had kept friendship and sacrificed my security and my luck. And I was happy with that. Colombia left an amazing impression on me, it's neighbouring country Venezuela would leave a sour taste and everything went wrong there (except for the nice hotel I found in Caracas). I hope my luck transfers to Julio and his family, who live a charmed but basic life in Colombia. I'll always be on hand to help on the farm if I return there.

Paula, Julio and Claudia gave me a gift too - a wristband or bracelet with WAYUU written on it - an old Colombian language and the Colombian flag also on it. I wore it for most of the rest of my travels and will treasure it as another memento of my journeys on this round ball.

The tears were saved for another day as my green and white Concorde bus pulled into Sopo Bus Station. Hugs, kisses and fondness followed, and soon I was onboard the bus, alone again as the only foreigner heading north east to Venezuela. It would be a full 48 hours until I spoke English again...

Where - Sopo

Population - 21,000

Transport Used - Julio's Family Car, Sopo - Cucuta Bus

Strange Currencies - Colombian Pesos and US Dollars

Nationalities Met - Colombian

Next Stop - Eventually Cucuta, via Tunja, Duitama and Pamplona

KEY SONG -

THE CAESARS - JERK IT OUT:

(long before I even visited Colombia - Julio and I were dancing and listening to this back in Bournemouth in 2005 in the beach hut selling hot dogs and ice creams at Best Break)

VIDEO DRIVING THROUGH CENTAL SOPO:

VIDEO ON MY BUS FROM SOPO AND LATER TO CUCUTA:

Milking Cows In Colombia *

2012-01-12T00:20:00.004+11:00

So at the age of 30 I was working on a farm in Colombia, milking cows. Yes, but not quite the full story. Yes I've actually "worked" in South America, but I only did one shift ha ha! And it was just milking cows on Julio's farm while I stayed there, but still I enjoyed it. Felipe and his family provided me with a cosy bed, my own room and plenty of food and adventures for 4 -5 days. So it only felt right that I should contribute by doing a bit of work!

If I ever go back, I'll gladly get up at 5am and do the morning milking, however on this venture I simply did the sunset milking. Those who regularly milk cows will know they need milked twice a day.

I wasn't particularly good at it for my first go, but of course I'll improve and I helped by providing some of the milk which helps keep Julio and his family surviving money wise.

Each day they milk their two cows twice once at 5am, once at 5pm (ish)- Julio does it and they leave the milk in cartons by the gate - they get picked up and then the money is transferred to Julio's bank account.

Look carefully at this photo I'm in with Julio in 2005 - Julio at the time owned an expensive camera. When I arrived in Colombia - one of my memories was about Julio and his camera.

So I asked him about his camera. It turned out one day he swapped his camera for a cow...and the rest is history. He now lives with his Mum and sister on this beautiful farm called Zoroastro in the farming community of Santa Ana Alta.

Julio's next generation - as well as two cows that produce milk, he has two calves.

Julio Felipe is an expert of course and this is his life. Ironic that we went from selling ice cream (surely containing cow's milk of some description) to milking cows. A backward step? Not a chance. Just another wee experience on life's corridor and I hope Julio is enjoying the farming life. It's a back to basic existence, but it's a nice way to live. My thanks once again to Julio Felipe and his family not just for the joy of milking the cows and contributing to Colombian life, but for letting me stay and getting guided tours of everywhere we went. It was amazing.

Name of Julio's Farm - Zoroastro

Where is it? - Santa Ana Alta, Cundinamarca, Colombia

How many cows does he have? - 4 (2 are calves)

Cows names - Venus and Jupiter

How many times a year is each cow milked - 730 (or 732 in a leap year)

KEY SONG:
THE COW SONG - (its amazing what sort of crap you can find online, its very funny though):

ME MILKING THE COWS, FIRST TIME I DID THAT:

JULIO MILKING THE COWS, PROPERLY:

Guasca's Paradise *

2012-01-10T22:47:00.004+11:00

In my time in Colombia I basically did a mini tour of a lot of towns and villages north east of Bogota, the country's capital. This was a very different travel experience that most would get in Colombia, as none of these places (except Guatavita the gorgeous settlement by a lake) are touristy at all. A bit more raw and real life Colombia if you want.

Of course my local guide and good friend Julio Felipe gave me a real insight into his lifestyle. Living on a farm at Santa Ana Alta, the nearest village, Guasca is an hour to walk (I think) and at least 20 minutes by car. This isolation probably helps save the pennies. No need to venture out at night, from their gorgeous farm land, one of which Julio is himself particularly proud of.

Julio, once a fellow Bournemouth worker, and resident in England for a brave while, swapped his expensive camera for a cow, the city for the countryside and the rest is history. My introduction into rural Colombia came in the little Paradise of Guasca.

We got a mini bus from central Bogota to Guasca.

The bus took a couple of hours and was an awesome journey - very safe and I fell asleep for a spell.

Guasca is away from the madness of Bogota. It's a small mountain village, and it's Julio's local town, so I got the guided tour, the fancy Colombian shots (Aguardiente!), a few beers and everything you need to relax away from the busy-ness of life. In essence, in it's disconnected splendour, Guasca, and more specifically Santa Ana Alta is paradise.

The centre point of Guasca is the main square, where a very nice church sits. The photo 2 photos above shows the view of Guasca from a hike we did at Santa Ana Alta, as does this one...

What an amazing view we got of Guasca. Just splendid Colombian countryside.

Quiet central Guasca by night.

This bright blue building on the corner of the main square caught my eye, both at night and by day.

Typical Guasca street - narrow, quiet.

The lonely road from Santa Ana Alta to Guasca. Many farm animals can be found, mostly pigs, sheep, cows and goats.

Guasca behind a wall viewed from the car.

The one way system - every street is like this. First come first through...

The pedestrian part of the main square.

The centrepiece of Guasca - a gorgeous main church.

Wearing a typical Colombian hat and a Glentoran shirt. Bet many haven't done that in downtown Guasca. Basking in the sun as well. The trousers are a red herring - it was scorching.

Fountain in the square.

The local council office was my "striking bright blue building", these flags are also local.

Statue and the Church in the background.

Licorera - Liquor Store - Off Licence - Offy. This is very local. Julio bought our beers and first night shots in there. You can buy takeaway shots and drink them in the street. I didn't visit any "bars" in Guasca, though they exist and are very local, old, and worn.

A cash point/ATM. This reminded me of Bangor due to the sign Banagrario. I didn;t risk taking any money out. Fraud and robbery can be common in these enclosed bank machines.

Looking at the masterful church from the back of the square.

My travelling Northern Ireland flag made it to Guasca square in front of the church. I hadn't even heard of Guasca a week earlier and it didn't feature in my Lonely Planet book (neither did Sopo or Chia, 2 other towns I visited). This also made it feel like I was really travelling and getting to see the Colombian lifestyle. Thanks of course to Julio Felipe.

My favourite blue building in Day time! Council offices I believe.

A small Christmas display opposite the main square.

Other side of main square, Church prominently in view once again.

Police wagon and police station. We're in Colombia, so I'd have to estimate most of the crime is related to drugs. I could be wrong.

The only real tourist mention in Guasca - the Spanish can translate as "Guasca - the tourist destination of the Muisca Gods" presumably a reference to those people who arrived and created this city - which is at some altitude and really, in the middle of nowhere.

This sign means something like "we all do change" or "we all can change." I really liked that and I'm very much into words of wisdom. It was nice seeing this dislocated town living a normal life and giving some inspiration via words.

As a Northern Irishman would say "peeler station" (Police Station).

A church so nice it deserved one last photo.

Last bus to Guasca? Soon my Guasca clock had ticked and as I said farewell on a hot sunny morning, there was time to see Sopo and Chia and continue by trek north east, this time by bus, where the destination was to finally end up in Caracas, Venezuela, some 700 kilometres away. That trip itself was some journey and when I look back, easily the worst journey of my life so far, but worth it. As a traveller we have to buzz off adventure and arriving in dreary Cucuta at 5am trying to get across the border was certainly an adventure, if not an enjoyable one.

Wikipedia says this much about Guasca:

Guasca is a Colombian town and municipality in the Cundinamarca Department located approximately 105 km from Bogotá. It has a touristic and an agricultural zone.

Thats sums it up...

It wasn't quite a Gangsta's Paradise in Guasca, but the title suits, I like the pun, I love the song, and hey, we were in Colombia, which is hardly shy of Gangsters now is it? Over to you Coolio (VIDEO FROM 1995 a UK NUMBER ONE SINGLE - GANGSTA'S PARADISE):

A VIDEO I TOOK IN GUASCA TOWN SQUARE:

DRIVING THE COUNTRY ROADS NEAR GUASCA AND SANTA ANA ALTA:

The Welcome To Colombia Bogota Party *

2012-01-09T21:11:00.004+11:00

My welcome to Colombia is something that I should remember forever. Friends are more important than anything else sometimes. And whether they are close friends or friends you see often, shouldn't matter. Friends will always be there for you. One such is Julio Felipe.

A man who I first met in 2004 while serving ice creams by Bournemouth Beach - a job which in fact has helped me immensely on my travels around the world and I have actually met friends from that particular job in places as far off as Australia, Poland and Colombia.

Once the cancelled flights and baggage had been sorted, I was breathing Colombian air. Greeted at Bogota international airport by Felipe and Sergio, who had gone out of their way. I had some Colombian money - Marta's 1,000 Peso note still in my wallet - this lady Marta I had roomed with on my very first night in Australia in October 2009. She had the other bed in the room her and I shared with Natalja and she accompanied us on our trek round Sydney at night. Just over a year later I had finally made it to Colombia to spend said note. And to throw in another of life's coincidences I was to party and drink with Marta that night - but a different one! Anyway I got a few more Pesos swapped over at Bogota airport just for good measure.

Neither Sergio or Julio own a car or can afford one, yet they both came all the way to the airport on public transport just to meet me. Once there, they whisked us in a taxi, laughter followed and soon we were on the way to an area of the city known as "Nice". A pretty good opener for Colombia, and its' high altitude capital, Bogota.

A party was happening at Margarita's flat in Nice. Beers, rum and smokes were flowing. It was a relief to get back there and enjoy the relaxation of my first ever night in Colombia.

Margarita lived at a place called Conjunto Residencial Maria Jose. It's a very safe haven - a block of flats with a security guy on a gate and even after that you need 2 more keys to access the flat.

The night time view from Margarita's flat.

The table at the Colombian party. I had my first ever Colombian beer there - Aguila, which means eagle. It's still my favourite Colombian beer.

The party got underway and featured drink, smoke, dancing, music and fun. A special welcome to the country for me. My host Margarita had a early night as she was feeling poorly, but helped sort everything out for me bed wise and drink wise. Thanks to Julio I was getting a real Hong Kong experience.

Marta taught me Colombian style dancing. She was good and it. Colombians can dance. Sergio and even Julio could cut the rug up to. Northern Irish people, by default are not really cut out for this dancing melarkey.

Marta wanted to keep dancing all night - I must have been up dancing for a couple of hours. First time I'd done that in years. I have a habit of attracting opposites in females. Noemi, from Debrecen in Hungary was a fabulous dancer, appeared in many competitions in Hungary and England dancing her way round. Marta does it for fun and is a very sexual person which again added to the spirit.

It was a gathering of friends and Julio had been so welcoming, it almost felt wrong to be rubbing up against Marta all night. She is sultry and sexy. A very charming lady and on a different door on life's corridor I may have bargained for more than the odd crotch fondle she provided.

Marta with a typical sexy pose.

Marta tries on my famous blue hat.

After a few hours we ran out of drink, but this is Colombia and there's a wee offy in the estate open 24 hours so Sergio pops out for another bottle of Ron (rum) we were on the rum and cokes all night.

Felipe cooked me some tuna fish soup after this! There were smokes available too. Chat turned to Best Break and Julio and I relived days gone by over a wee rum. It's funny we were good mates in Bournemouth, but didn;t often drink together much. We were making up for lost time.

Chilling with Sergio.

Then it was almost dawn and time to sleep. Three in the bed? Colombian style together at Margaritas.

I was able to keep my stuff at Margarita's flat while I toured Bogota and later Julio and I organised our trip out to Guasca and Santa Ana Alta, where he lives on the farm.

View from Margarita's balcony by day.

With my host Margarita who was feeling a bit better the next morning.

The exterior of Margarita's flat.

There was still time for a bit of flirting with Marta the next morning. And that was my introduction to Colombia. After the sightseeing in Bogota, I left Margarita's flat and the Nice area. Havent seen Sergio, Margarita or Marta since, but at least connected via Facebook. Great party. Great friends. Great country.

Who was there - Margarita, Marta, Julio, Sergio, Jonny

Nationalities Met - Colombia

Beer - Aguila

Spirit - Ron

Key Song -

Ocean Colour Scene - The Day We Caught The Train (for the line "sips another rum and coke"):

CHILLING AT MARGARITA'S FLAT IN NICE, BOGOTA:

Bogota Gotta Go There *

2012-01-08T02:36:00.001+11:00

Bogota, Colombia's capital, is a well known city which is often sadly associated with high crime rates. Dangers exist and the city can be daunting. But although I found it bland and lacking real atmosphere (not a bad thing I might add), I totally enjoyed it and want to go back properly and see all the parts of it, delving into the danger zones. It's a sky high metropolis, which comes with the emotional cargo of drug abuse, alcohol abuse, soroche and high murder rates. This is another post dedicated to the gentleman, comedian and good friend that is Julio Felipe. First night in Bogota became a Ron and Aguila party in the "Nice" district. Bogota rocks, it's a great place. You're better off not reading any travel books about it...just go there.

My time in Bogota city itself was limited to 2 days, as I mostly stayed with my good friend Felipe in Santa Ana Alta, a quiet mountain village a few hours by bus from this collosal capital. However I really built up a liking for the city in the short space of time. I did spend one night in Bogota itself which was with Margarita in the "Nice" area, and will write about that separately. I'm really glad I've been to Bogota, I really liked it. Here's my memories in photos and captions, as this portrays Bogota the way I seen it.

The "Nice" District - no seriously this is the actual name of the area - Nice. Again more photos on this area will be in another post - I spent an excellent night there with Margarita, Martha, Felipe and Sergio.

Buying a bus ticket in Nice.

Waiting on a bus - these bus stops are all enclosed - safe and unusual.

On a Bogota bus. Bus culture in South America varies from city to city and country to country. In Bogota it's all a bit quiet and a bit of a squeeze. Compared to buses in Montevideo which were noisy and fidgety, Buenos Aires buses were over bearing and unwelcoming, in La Paz sheer lunacy and in Asuncion old, worn and enjoyable.

A market downtown. There can be bag snatchers in these areas, we're told. It would simply be easy for them to disappear into a crowd or round a corner.

Government Building near Plaza de Bolivar.

In Plaza De Bolivar. Nice typical square. Not many tourists about though.

Gardens and statues near Plaza de Bolivar.

A Catholic Church. Well it is the main religion...

Bogota is very easy on the eye, buildings wise. An array of gorgeous wee buildings in different colours and designs line the streets near Plaza de Bolivar and all the way to the nearby area "La Candelaria".

War museum.

Main museum. Because I was staying with Felipe and getting a tour everywhere we walked, I didn't once feel the need to visit a museum. Plus he'd have been bored by it. I remember thinking - let's spend our entire time walking outside, I can read the books and history on my bus to Venezuela.

It's not unusual to see a Llama right bang in the city centre, though I'm pretty pleased I got close enough to get this photo.

There was this striking yellow church which immediately reminded me of the beautiful yellow "Nagytemplom" in the Hungarian city of Debrecen. Here's the Debrecen one at an angle, the only surviving photo I have of it:

Anyway, flashbacks and comparisons always happen when you travel around, so we'll leave it at that. Back to Bogota...

A football stadium, but not the national team one - the Colombian National team play their home matches in Barranquilla rather than in Bogota. Apart from Chile, I don't remember a country in South America where I didn't see one - and in most cases I was inside one. Colombia's football history is bittersweet - Their nickname is often "Los Cafeteros" (the coffee growers) and they have won the Copa America just once in 2001. They famously scored 4 goals against USSR in their very first World Cup in 1962, however the sadness of Colombian life is evident from the shooting of right back Andres Escobar in 1994 (who scored the own goal which basically put Colombia out of USA 1994) and the imprisonment of former stars Carlos Valderamma and Rene Higuita. To put this into perspective for Northern Irish readers, it would be like Anton Rogan being shot by the UDA for scoring an o.g. for NI, and David Healy and Steve Davis being banged up for drugs. The parallels may not quite fit, but it does go to show that Colombia has far more problems than my own country of Northern Ireland. Sometimes we forget things like that in life.

It was a quiet day when we were there in Bogota - actually I just remembered it was New Year's Eve 2010. The streets round La Candelaria were very quiet. Here a photo taken by Julio, we were the only 2 people on the street. I like this photo, it's like I'm a lost Northern Irishman looking for a pub that's open just to get my fill of Guinness!

Relaxing in the same spot! You'll find my Bogota photos are longer and a different shape. This was just after the Inca Trail where my camera broke at Winaywayna and I was trying to get used to my new camera. The photos on the other streets came out so badly unfortunately that some of my Bogota images are merely in my head. Here's one of the "bad photos."

La Candelaria is beautiful to walk around and I believe there are a few hostels there. At night it can be dangerous, muggings and shootings have been known to happen.

We made a visit to Drinker's Square, where at night alcoholics, druggys and locals mingle and enjoy an evening. By day the same square is deserted...

Pretty murals and colourful buildings in and around La Candelaria (and "Drinker's Square").

Tits cake in a Bogota cake shop.

There are local restaurants everywhere - Bogota is not commercial or over the top with foreign restaurants. Felipe took me to this one - He had fish soup.

And I went for a beef dish, which came with rice, spaghetti, banana, chips and the beef steak. Papaya juice on the side. I don't know if this is traditional Colombian, but it was nice and it was cheap.

A market that was empty the day we were there.

Cerro de Montserrate up on the hill. Apparently a great view of Bogota. But I didn't go up to see it.

Bringing the crates in - life goes on - daily workers by a restaurant.

A funky wee market square. There's a few of them about. Similar to those in Bolivia and Ecuador selling souvenirs, cheap jewellery and colourful clothing.

Iglesia de San Francisco sits proudly in Bogota on a corner by yet another square. I went inside briefly and there was a service on.

Flying the flag outside Iglesia de San Francisco.

Another Church.

Avenida Jimenez. One of the main streets in downtown Bogota.

Carrera 7 - next main street along with bus routes.

Museo del Oro - the Gold Museum.

Cafes, art galleries and museums give Bogota colour, imagination and what I felt was a bit of an "Italian flavour."

This pretty local was flambouyant dressed in the Colombian flag colours, which gave me a reminder of World Cup 1990, when a Colombian fan wore something similar. Myself, being dressed in the green Northern Ireland shirt, joined in for a photo.

A nice moment which I will forever remember in Bogota - Northern Ireland and Colombia join together - we played them in a friendly in 1994, losing 2-0.

They could have fooled me, I thought Northern Ireland was the Emerald country. I also enjoyed this bit!

More typical streets in Bogota. Charming. I even found some graffiti with Jhonny on it so another photo was in store.

Colombian flags.

Cafe Pasaje downtown Bogota was where I enjoyed my first Bogota bar experience. Friendly, relaxed and an ice cold beer. Another special moment. I had an Aguila (Eagle) - the best Colombian beer I had.

These "phone stalls" make me laugh. Even locals in Colombia don't own mobile phones, not sure if it's because they are scared they will get stolen or because they can't afford the phones. Basically you pay the vendor "x" amount of money depending on how long you spend on the phone he lends you. The phones are cheap, shit ones, so nobody would think of stealing them. Felipe doesn't own a phone, but carries around a piece of paper with important numbers on it and then chooses the correct moment to use them. It makes a nice change from London, Sydney or The Kong where people flash their iPhones and Nokias all over the show. Do that in Bogota and your phone will not last 5 minutes. Believe me.

Similarly to La Paz, these mayhemic "Collectivos" or "Minibuses" are everywhere and a very good way to get around. Only if your Spanish and directions are any good though. I used them a couple of times with Felipe, but I would not have wanted to use them on my own in Bogota, just in case I ended up on "bullet street" (a street in Bogota famous for murders).

A trendy Pedestrian precinct. Open and wide, therefore slightly safer from thiefs.

One of the main bus station interchanges at Avenida Jimenez, with a market nearby.

We got off a bus near Margarita's flat and had a short walk around this area, near "Nice."

Another nice church.

On a quiet local bus. This one was not quite a bus (from the enclosed bus stops) and not quite a collectivo. Somewhere in the middle.

My view from the bus and then my final departure from Bogota, also by bus. I had my big bags with me at this point and was the only tourist, though I was with Felipe and we managed to get on a collectivo out of Bogota to Guasca, a town near where Felipe's farm (at Santa Ana Alta) is. A comfy and cosy exit from Bogota. I was truly inspired.

The journey out of Bogota was even more high and rising, which I hadn't expected, given that Bogota in itself is some 2,625 metres above sea level. This final journey out of Bogota was at sunset on New Year's Eve 2010. We got a nice view into the city and the sun had all but faded when we arrived in the solemnity of Guasca. I had expected to return to Bogota on my departure from Colombia a few days later, but my bus journey ended up being from Sopo instead and I didn't need to pass by the capital again. Bogota! Go and check it out.

Strange Currencies - Colombian Pesos

Beer Tried - Aguila

Nationalities Met - Colombian

Population - 11 million

WITH FELIPE ON NEW YEAR'S EVE IN LA CANDELARIA:

MERCADO ON AVENIDA JIMENEZ FROM BUS TERMINAL:

ON THE BOGOTA TO GUASCA BUS WITH FELIPE:

VIEW OF BOGOTA FROM GUASCA BUS:

COLOMBIA WERE THE ONLY TEAM TO DRAW WITH EVENTUAL WINNERS WEST GERMANY AT THE 1990 WORLD CUP:

God Give Me Seoul In Your Rock'n'Roll Babe! *

2012-01-06T01:10:00.000+11:00

Arrival in South Korea's Seoul was another of life's journeys that you have no reason why you take. My 6013 Airport Limosine (which by the way is merely a an elaborate name for a bus) strolled its way through darkness and a chilly air to lead me back to my good old friend Millwall Neil.

Millwall Neil and I had a habit of not using phones or any form of instant communciation, hence we had arranged our meeting about 3 weeks in advance. A message on Facebook was something like "meet me in Rianmania, which is close to the Mad Ghost pub near Konkuk University between 7 and 8pm the night you arrive (the 22nd December)". He knew I'd be there. I knew he'd be there.

I got off my bus around 7.51 pm, and after 30 seconds I saw the flashing neon sign for the Mad Ghost (I took that photo a few days later - in the emotion and rush I didnt photograph the flashing neon sign at night!). Neil probably couldn't have picked a funnier or more appropriate pub name to meet at if he tried. Indeed I was mad, even nomad, and in Hong Kong I'm apparently a "white ghost", Millwall Neil himself had earned himself a similar title in Taiwan. What a coincidence that the pair of us were now both living in Asia, and even stranger that right in the middle of Hong Kong and South Korea, geographically lies Taiwan. The place I had first seen Neil in Asia back in 2009 (though it seemed years ago).

I dashed across the busy road and stood outside the Mad Ghost, then I remembered we were actually meeting in a pub called Rianmania, which was a few doors down. Typically I walked the opposite way for a couple of minutes. Only to come back, turn down a random side street. I turned round and like a blue flash in the darkness, I saw and heard Neil at the same time. Wearing a Millwall hat and sporting this time a moustache (last time it had been a beard), it was another random meeting for us both. I think I counted 7 countries we'd been in together, which spans 4 continents and we even lived together in 2 flats in 2 separate continents (Bournemouth, England in 2004 and Parramatta, Australia in 2009 - 2010).

We were reunited once again and I was happily enjoying Seoul. We walked down some steps out of the cold Seoul Winter into the cosy, warm Rianmania, where Neil's new girlfriend Christina waited. My own girlfriend Panny Yu would arrive the following night.

Neil and Christina. I brought them santa hats and a few Christmas Presents. There were free Pretzels while you drink in Rianmania.

My first ever South Korean Beer - A Cass. Neil says you have to cover the "C" when you drink it so it looks like "ass". I missed that British comedy.

It was a great way to start the South Korean adventure and have a catch up. I also had a Cafri in there, which sounded like Caffreys (a Northern Irish Ale), but this was local lager. It always tastes good when you're in good company and travelling. This meeting with Neil, confirmed the fact that we have seen each other every year inclusively since 2004, where I first met Neil. That's a total of 8 calendar years. Indeed apart from my girlfriend Panny Yu, he is the only other person I have been with in 4 continents!!

Once I had relaxed, Neil and Christina then outlined our plans for the next few days, how they working and we decided to go back to Neil's flat and dump my stuff off before heading out for a Korean Barbecue and a few beers. I was loving it already, and the fun in Seoul had only just begun...

Transport Used - Airport Limosine Number 6013 (From Incheon Airport to Konkuk University)

Nationalities Met - South Korean, Chinese, English and US

Strange Currencies - South Korean Won

Bars Visited - Rianmania

Bars Waited Outside Of - The Mad Ghost (oddly I never went into the Mad Ghost in my 8 days in South Korea!)

Beers Tried - Cass, Cafri

Temperature - Minus 9 Degrees

Key Song - Let's All Make Believe (Oasis):

VIDEOS I MADE:

ON THE AIRPORT BUS:

ARRIVAL AT KONKUK UNIVERSITY LOOKING FOR MILLWALL NEIL:

WITH MILLWALL NEIL A BIT LATER ON IN THE STREET NEAR HIS FLAT:

Chia *

2012-01-05T23:41:00.078+11:00

Nope, it's not a spelling mistake. It shouldn't be China, it shouldn't be Chiayi. This is the typical non-touristy Colombian town of Chia.

I ended up there courtesy of my Colombian friend Julio Felipe. You could mistake it for a subrub of Bogota, but the countryside in between and the town square make this surely a town of it's own right in the area known as Cundinamarca.

We called in with David, Julio's brother who lives with his dog near the town centre. That's his flat. We're invited in for Coca leaves, which taste like Mate but I'm not that keen on them.

Just seeing a vehicle like this are typical in these random Colombian towns.

There were a few desperate things I wanted to do in Chia, as it was my last full day in Colombia (though I had a bus change the next morning in Cucuta to get across the Venezuela border). This included posting a postcard, withdrawing some money, getting some Venezuelan notes (which was in vain and really affected my time in the country) and squeezing in a final beer with Julio.

Entrance to the town square.

Street in the centre by the town square of Chia.

Chia town square.

Standing in the square, obvious foreigner.

Christmas Tree.

Main Church in Chia Square.

The bar Rio Grande where I had my last beer with Julio and David before leaving Colombia.

Having a wee Aguila beer with Julio and David.

Town centre sign in Chia.

Wee roundabout area where we met Julio's Mum and sister at a supermarket while we had our beers.

The shopping centre where we went where I couldn't withdraw money or get Venezuelan money. It was all a rush and very confusing.

That Shopping Centre was random. Julio's Mum and sister tried to sell their cat, Cow Semen was for sale and in the middle of a Colombian town, a stray camel oddly graced the shopping centre's aisle...

The stray camel...

And the world's smallest McDonalds was also in that shopping centre.

This was captured just on the way out of Chia, nice to have 2 places I saw in Colombia on a wee sign (Bogota and Guasca).

And after my visit to Chia I was soon back in the town of Sopo and heading on a bus north east towards the Colombian border. Colombian bus wilderness captured in all its mundane, rusty glory above. This is some journey...

Name of Town - Chia, Cundinamarca, Colombia

Language - Now Spanish, but originally Chibchan

Population - (of which one is David, Julio's brother) 196,640

Nickname - The Moon City

Key Song -

R.E.M. - MAN ON THE MOON:

HAVING A BEER WITH FELIPE AND DAVID IN RIO GRANDE BAR, CHIA:

A FINAL NOTE ON CHIA:

Chia is so obscure and I reckon rarely would a foreigner ever go there, so here's some information on it from Wikipedia just to fuel the brain cells...

Chía is a town and municipality in the Cundinamarca department of Colombia, located to the north of Bogotá on the main road to Zipaquira. Its history dates back to the pre-Columbian era. The name comes from the Chibchan language and means "moon" or "month".

Due to its proximity to Bogotá (2.7 km), Chía has effectively become a dormitory suburb of the capital. It is also home of the Universidad de la Sabana.

[edit] History

Chía was a Muisca settlement in the pre-Columbian era, and an important ceremonial center of worship to the moon deity Chia goddess. In 1537 the Spanish, under the command of Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada, took possession of the town.

In 1781, during the Revolt of the Comuneros, the march of the insurgents towards Bogotá stopped near Chía in order to cross the Bogotá River, in what is now known as the Bridge of the Commoners (Spanish: Puente del Común). At that site the viceroy signed a series of concessions to the rebels. However, once the rebel group had dispersed, the viceroy declared the concessions invalid for having been signed "under pressure". It is widely believed that eventually Bogota will merge with Chia, if the city continues expanding (as it happened with Bosa and Soacha).

[edit] Borders

North with Cajicá and Sopó
South: Localities of Usaquen and Suba, Bogotá
West with Tabio and Tenjo
Southwest: Cota
East with Sopó

[edit] Other facts

Government Flag of Chía

Market Day: Sunday
Distance from Bogotá: 3.1 km
Median temperature: 14 °C
Demonym: Chiense or Chiano
DANE Code: 25175

[edit] Sites of interest

Marroquín Castle
Hacienda Yerbabuena
Commoners Bridge
Chía Mall (Centro-Chía)
Andrés Carne de Res
Iglesia la Valvanera
Teattroria

Inching Into Incheon *

2012-01-04T01:10:00.038+11:00

My Christmas trip of 2011 began properly when I touched down in Incheon. It was first time in South Korea. I'm one for milestones and in some records this was my 60th country, in others it was my 58th (or even my 63rd if you go by the Traveller's Hundred Club list). The more important factor was I was being reunited with Millwall Neil, and had 8 days off work to enjoy a new culture (and in fact an even more exciting trip in which Panny and I actually crossed the border into North Korea the very week of Kim Jong Il's death...)

I'd heard of Incheon back in 2002 when it hosted a few World Cup matches. It's where the main airport in South Korea is based, and is just over an hour from Seoul. Incheon hosted the match where Denmark beat France 2-0 eliminating the 1998 World Cup winners and holders.

I had got through customs and collected my bag and stepped out to breathe the cold Korean air for the first time. I was waiting on an airport bus to Konkuk University, the area where my mate Millwall Neil lives.

The airport buses are known as limosines, and mine was a number 6013.

I must have just missed the previous one as I had to wait about 32 minutes for my bus and they're roughly every half an hour. All that meant was an extra 6 Pulp songs on my iPod (1996's "Different Class", the re-release a Christmas present from Panny Yu) and standing enjoying the bus queue in the freezing cold. It was a 6013 (though pulled up in the 6015 space) and cost 10,000 Won, something like 5 pounds 50 p.

Once on board the bus I got a nice window seat, relaxed, read my book and felt so cosy and happy to be travelling again.

The bus was so relaxing, and soon were in rush hour Seoul (pun intended).

We crossed the bridge into the north part of Seoul and we drove alongside the river for about 15 minutes. Just under an hour had passed when I realised the next stop was Konkuk University, so off I got...

Flight From - Beijing, China to Incheon, South Korea

Time Difference - Fast Forward 1 Hour

Arrival Time - 6 pm

Bus Time - 7.53 pm

Bus Number - 6013

Nationalities Met So Far - Chinese and South Korean

ARRIVAL AT INCHEON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT LOOKING FOR BUS STOPS:

ARRIVAL AT INCHEON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT WAITING ON MY BUS:

MY BUS FROM INCHEON TO KONKUK UNIVERSITY:

PART 1:

PART 2:

PART 3:

INCHEON HOSTS THE MATCH WHERE DENMARK KNOCKED HOLDERS FRANCE OUT 2-0 BACK IN THE 2002 WORLD CUP:

The Lost Inca City of Machu Picchu *

2012-01-02T00:42:00.004+11:00

The four day hike was complete and we assembled in our group, outside the lost Inca City of Machu Picchu in Peru. If you want to follow these posts in sequence then start at Inca Trail Day 1 - Part 1. In essence this is Day 4 - Part 4 - Machu Picchu, but I felt it an injustice to not include it as it's own separate report such is the wonder of this wonder. This was definitely one of life's better days. If you have been to Machu Picchu, you will know that. If you haven't, it's quite hard to understand the emotional and physical marvel that this place provides you with.

I feasted my eyes on Machu Picchu. It is as amazing as the photos portray it.

You cannot take your bags in with you. You cannot drink anything inside the gates. You cannot eat anything inside the gates. You cannot jump over the gates or get in for free. You wouldn't want to do any of those anyway.

You can take as many photos and videos as you want. Of course that's exactly what I did.

I wore my Santa Hat and my Northern Ireland football shirt. It felt nice to be there on Christmas Day. That made it more special to me.

Flying my Northern Ireland flag.

Arrival at the main entrance sign.

There are a few plaques near the actual entrance. I had already done my reading on it, and we also picked up a brochure at the passport stamp and ticketing office. They reckon the Ruins themselves date back to the 1400s, but one fact that is certain is that Hiram Bingham found Machu Picchu in 1911, I was there 99 years later.

Entrance.

Ticket. Stamped on Christmas Day!

Our Inca Trail included a guided tour once we got inside Machu Picchu. I think we had to pay a few Soles to leave our bag in.

The wonderful Sonja as ever would be our guide for the day.

The entrance, after scanning your ticket through. All part of the Machu Picchu routine and experience, even if this part does seem a bit touristy and commercial!

First proper glimpse of this wonder from inside the entrance.

I must also mention the weather, something which never bugs me when I travel as it is something we have no control over and I just take what weather I get, but on this particular day we had wind, mist/fog, sun and rain all in one. It was fantastic to experience the four seasons of Machu Picchu. Only seeing a bit of Christmas Day snow could possibly have made the day any better.

The mist and clouds around "Old Mountain" add to the mystery within.

When turned on her side, a woman's face resembles the mountain scape in behind, including the much higher Wayna Picchu.

Everything about this place is stunning.

Our guided tour started at the bottom at the Royal Enclosures and worked it's way up to the Astronomical Observatory. Don't be fooled by any photos or videos you ever see of Mach Picchu. This city is massive. It had everything they needed in those days including water supply, food, shelter and views (essential in case of attack).

In one day you cannot possibly see every single part of the city and analyse it, so best just to take in what the tour tells you and decide what parts you really want to see. The entire south western part which is higher up and includes the Guardhouse was a part I didn't even go into (however I had glanched down on it before entering the city).

The Royal Enclosures. The brick work design of these is far more detailed and superior than the other parts of the city. Close, tightly constructed bricks, well built would have meant this area was for the kings and queens of the city. Good for protection, shelter, views and warmth.

There is a lot of wildlife at Machu Picchu (on the Inca Trail I had already seen my fair share of insects, snakes (albeit dead ones), llamas, goats and birds.

A bird.

A worm.

A llama. There are more to be found, but actually I'm not an animal freak or lover and was more into the history, mystery and aura of the city rather than the wildlife. Some enthusiasts had their binoculars out during the four days.

More images from the Royal Enclosures.

Some decent photos of me inside the city of Machu Picchu! I wont apologise if these are repeat photos. It's OK to do repeat photos when you're talking about Machu Picchu.

Group shots were all taken near the top in the west agricultural sector (or at least over looking it).

With Sonja the guide, from Peru.

With Wei Lee, from Taiwan.

With the lads! Netherlands, Taiwan, Northern Ireland, Spain and Australia (with Indonesian heritage) were among our group. There were also the Argentinian guys, but on the Inca Trail section we split into 2 groups so they were at a different part of their tour.

Over the edge.

Some cracking views from near the top. I could simply bombard this page with photos, as I took hundreds, but I won't. It should be enough to understand what Machu Picchu is really all about. All my photos are on my facebook page, you can add me here: Add me on Facebook

Quite how many people actually lived here is unknown, when it began is unknown. Why it was abandoned is unknown. Many questions remain unanswered in a similar way to England's Stonehenge. Here's a few questions I thought of on my visit:

1. Why did people stop living here? (invasion, death, famine, natural disaster, disease...)

2. When did people stop living here? (before Spanish invasion so they never found it?)

3. Why did they choose this place?

4. What did they call the city they lived in? (We all know it as "Machu Picchu" (Old Mountain) or as Hiram Bingham called it "The Lost City of The Incas", but you can bet your life the locals had a different name for their home)

5. Why did nobody find it until 1911?

There is this interesting courtyard and temple section, containing various "can you work me outs?" including these basins which were either used as mirrors, for some religious reason or maybe just for storing water.

The temple of the three windows. Don't touch the sacred stone.

A map of Machu Picchu.

After the guided tour we were free to walk around of our own accord. My Inca Trail ticket included my bus ride back to the lower nearby "city" of Aguas Calientes as well as my night train to Ollantaytambo from Aguas Calientes, and later still my bus from Ollantaytambo back to Cusco. I spent almost 2 hours walking round before heading down by a relaxing zig zag bus journey to Aguas Calientes (it took about 25 minutes). To be honest I would have walked if the bus hadn't already been included in my ticket. It was Christmas Day of course!! SO I called into Church, picked up my photo from Day 1, phoned my family from a coin box and was ready to meet my fellow hikers for an afternoon lunch in Chaski Bar. Christmas Dinner would be Guinea Pig.

On a closing note, Machu Picchu is a special place. It is inspirational. It is one of the most memorable places I have ever been, and probably will ever be. I dedicate this report, and all the memories within my entire Inca Trail trip to my parents Joe Blair and Muriel Blair. Neither of them may ever visit Machu Picchu, or be interested enough to see it. But they bought this trip for me as a Christmas Present in 2010. Having lived for almost 32 years now, this is easily the best present I have ever received from anyone. Mum and Dad I hope you can enjoy the magic of Machu Picchu through my memories, videos and photos. Thanks again.

Where - Deepest Inca Valleys of Peru

What - Machu Picchu, a lost Inca City in the mountains, uninhabitated for centuries

Why - Nobody knows

Cost - Either cheat and get a bus up the hill and pay in, or do it like me and all the proper explorers by hiking for four days just to see it. Costs vary depending on time of year, package etc. My package included EVERYTHING except handing you bag in at the entrance.

Company I used - Cusco Explorers, Calle Jorge Ochoa No. 241 Santiago, Cusco, Peru

My guides - Sonja. Juan Carlos and Jose Luis

E-mail - sonhen@hotmail.com or cuscoexplorer@yahoo.com or cuscoexplorer@hotmail.com

Key Song:

THE STROKES - MACHU PICCHU:

MY VIDEOS:

JUST BEFORE ENTERING MACHU PICCHU:

ASTRONOMICAL PART OF MACHU PICCHU:

START OF MACHU PICCHU:

WAYNA PICCHU FROM MACHU PICCHU:

INSIDE MACHU PICCHU:

LOOKING INTO THE VALLEYS FROM MACHU PICCHU:

RAIN AT MACHU PICCHU:

RELAXING AT MACHU PICCHU

I have a facts booklet and leaflet, and you can get one at the entrance on the way in, but I thought I'd leave it to good old Wikipedia to encapsulate the meaning and information on Machu Picchu:

Machu Picchu (Spanish pronunciation: [ˈmatʃu ˈpitʃu], Quechua: Machu Pikchu [ˈmɑtʃu ˈpixtʃu], "Old Peak") is a pre-Columbian 15th-century Inca site located 2,430 metres (7,970 ft) above sea level.^[1]^[2] Machu Picchu is located in the Cusco Region of Peru. It is situated on a mountain ridge above the Urubamba Valley in Peru, which is 80 kilometres (50 mi) northwest of Cusco and through which the Urubamba River flows. Most archaeologists believe that Machu Picchu was built as an estate for the Inca emperor Pachacuti (1438–1472). Often referred to as the "Lost City of the Incas", it is perhaps the most familiar icon of the Inca World.

The Incas started building the "estate" around AD 1400, but abandoned it as an official site for the Inca rulers a century later at the time of the Spanish Conquest. Although known locally, it was unknown to the outside world before being brought to international attention in 1911 by the American historian Hiram Bingham. Since then, Machu Picchu has become an important tourist attraction. Most of the outlying buildings have been reconstructed in order to give tourists a better idea of what the structures originally looked like.^[3] By 1976, thirty percent of Machu Picchu had been restored.^[4] The restoration work continues to this day.^[5]

Since the site was never known to the Spanish during their conquest, it is highly significant as a relatively intact cultural site. Machu Picchu was declared a Peruvian Historical Sanctuary in 1981 and a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983.^[2] In 2007, Machu Picchu was voted one of the New Seven Wonders of the World in a worldwide Internet poll.

Machu Picchu was built in the classical Inca style, with polished dry-stone walls. Its three primary structures are the Intihuatana (Hitching post of the Sun), the Temple of the Sun, and the Room of the Three Windows. These are located in what is known by archaeologists as the Sacred District of Machu Picchu. In September 2007, Peru and Yale University almost reached an agreement regarding the return of artifacts which Yale has held since Hiram Bingham removed them from Machu Picchu in the early 20th century. In November 2010, a Yale University representative agreed to return the artifacts to a Peruvian university.^[6]

Happy New Year With Helen - 2009 *

2012-01-01T18:01:00.004+11:00

I often need to reflect on the past to understand the present. It's now New Year's Day 2012. I'll be 32 this year. Three years ago on New Year's Day I celebrated with my girlfriend at the time who cooked for me and came down to visit from London for 2 days. After the 2nd January 2009, I only saw her once again. I don't talk of her much and really shouldn't but it's been a crazy three years since that day.

Helen and I went out for a few months and always had good fun together. She enjoyed her pubs, her beer and her football and possessed a wondrous sense of intrigue. However things turned very sad and sour for us both in the year 2009, forcing me to emigrate from the UK. Helen ended up in hospital fighting cancer while at the same time I fell in love with a different girl at work, Noemi.

It was all very sad. I'll still try and keep touch with both Helen and Noemi if I can and if they want but from meeting them both, my life was changed forever and I simply couldn't stay living in England.

Helen cooking for me on New Year's Day 2009 in my flat in Southbourne, Bournemouth, Dorset, England.

Our champagne celebration together. New Year's Day 2009.

I think of Helen now and then and think of how things went wrong but also of the good times we had. Life is fate and everything is planned out for us. Here's to a new 2012!

Panmunjeom - Crossing The Border Into North Korea *

2011-12-31T03:57:00.000+11:00

To say you have been to North Korea is one thing. To say you simply did it with ease in a blue hut accompanied by a tour group and some members of the army stationed in the JSA (Joint Security Area) at Panmunjeom is not quite the same as eating a bit of kimchi in the second class carriage on the 11.31 to Pyongyang. Realities aside, just one week ago, Christmas Eve 2011, Panny and I stepped foot in North Korea. Or the DPRK - Democratic People's Republic of Korea.

The tours are organised from South Korea as it happens and we booked ours in advance. It was the second year in a row I was embarking on a memorable trip on Christmas Eve, as I cast my mind back one year before I had been at Winaywayna on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru. Machu Picchu is a dead, ruins of a city bereft of modernity and civilisation, but full of inspiration and awe. This frontier at Panmunjeom is quite the opposite.

North Korea, in its unknown and internal charm, is one of the hidden gems of planet earth. We don't know much about it. What we do know is that Kim Jong Il died recently and the country was in mourning. And they beat Italy 1-0 in the 1966 World Cup. But to say the rest of North Korea is a hidden bag is somewhat of an understatement.

So Panny and I embarked on the DMZ (De-militarised Zone) tour on Christmas Eve. The tour starts in the South Korean capital of Seoul, taking you to many sights, museums and informative points including the visit to the border here at Panmunjeom (the photos appearing here were all taken at Panmunjeom). For me Panmunjeom was the real highlight as it was there we saw our first ever North Korean - the soldier manning the North Korean building. It was there where we actually stepped into the communist country of North Korea and it was there where we truly witnessed one of the final chilling frontiers or borders on the planet.

What and where is Panmunjeom (or Panmunjom, also a correct spelling)? It's a custom built village which straddles the border between North and South Korea. It's a series of huts and buildings inside the DMZ. Those north of the border are manned 24 hours a day by North Korean soldiers. Those south of the border are manned 24 hours a day by the JSA. South Koreans and Americans mainly. The model above (a photo I took in the museum in the village of Paju) demonstrates where the border actually falls and just what Panmunjeom looks like.

One of the blue huts is named the MAC building. Military Armistice Commission. This is where conferences and peace talks are apparently held. When we were there the hut was manned solely by South Korean guards, despite some of the hut being over the border in North Korea.

This was the last photo before we were escorted into the MAC hut! It was the big moment to cross the border into North Korea, nonchalantly in the hut.

Our guide mentions to us that the border is actually the exact line where one soldier stands and the microphones (which record your every word) line the table.

The microphone.

It's all quite surreal and Panny and I step to the other side of this table which means we are now in North Korea.

At the back of the room is a door, which once you go through it, you're exposed to the North Koreans. The door is permanently manned.

Panny standing by the security guard, in North Korea.

I'm also in North Korea here standing by the security guard.

A view into North Korea from the hut.

Panny and I both across the border in North Korea here.

More photos and memories to come including more of North Korea from the bus and from Panmunjeom. The North Korean guards hold binoculars and stare at us.

Plus we were there the week Kim Jong Il died, so this photo I took of the North Korean flag (just over the border) shows a rare glimpse of the flag at half mast.

It was a moving and interesting experience, the whole day trip was just exceptional and I am even excited at the thought of putting it into writing at some point.

CROSSING THE BORDER INTO NORTH KOREA, AT PANMUNJEOM:

Mercado del Puerto, Montevideo, Uruguay *

2011-11-19T05:26:00.001+11:00

I love the global and diverse appeal of markets the world over. Montevideo has it's fair share and I visited about 4 or 5 markets in the city during my stay there. Whether it's a food market or a goods market, I love my visits to them.

The best one for food was the trendy "Mercado Del Puerto", situated down by the harbour in the Old City (Ciudad Vieja). That particular area of Montevideo is apparently a "no-go" area at night for lone foreigners due to poverty and robbery, so my hostel mate Wesley and I decided to eat there just before dark. However we also did an Irish Pub on the way and I later walked Panny Yu to her hostel in that area after I had moved in with my Uruguayan family. The market was safe and cosy and is mostly indoors. Trendy restaurants serving typical Uruguayan barbecue food and local beer are the norm. The atmosphere is fantastic.

The market is well laid out and very clean. You basically just rock over to a seat by each bar/restaurant and order from the bar. Some are slightly more posh with waitress service. We ended up at La Maestranza, a wee barbecue restaurant with a very pretty waitress who I believe was called Natali.

Wesley, who lives in Macao and is from China. I randomly met Wesley in the street in Montevideo and we hung out for 3 days! I hope to meet Wesley again soon, as Macao is only a boat ride from where I now live in Hong Kong.

The beer was Patricia - very popular and thirst quenching in Uruguay.

You buy beer by the bottle and share it in glasses. This is the cheapest option and the beer doesn't get too hot quickly. At that time (November 2010), Montevideo was enjoying a hot summer.

Main entrance to Mercado del Puerto.

At the entrance to Puerto Del Mercado. We went there by bicycle, hired from the hostel and you pay a guy to look after the bike - this seemed to be the safest option.

You choose what you want from the many items on the menu - as much or as little as you want (and you can buy more if its not enough) and they fire it on the barbecue and cook it in front of you. When it's ready they put it on a plate and you share it. Wesley and I both had similar tastes so no arguments! We chose Chorizo, Morchillo, Salchincha and Rincon - 4 types of cooked (pork or beef) sausage and meat. You get bread and sauce to eat them with.

The garnish, bread and crackers that come with it is free. So you only pay for the meat they cook and the beer. Tipping is optional, but we left a bit for the staff.

How it's cooked. The smell is very appetising.

I'm never far from drama however and while this was all happening, a local video crew notice I'm foreign, and hear my accent so they come over and make a video of me. I had only started to learn Spanish and wasn't great at it. But they ask me what I think of Montevideo. I said that I love the food, I come from Irlanda del Norte and I liked watching Diego Forlan and Luis Suarez in the 2010 World Cup. It was all over in a flash and I got on with my dinner. It was funny yo be interviewed as you can tell the camera crew are giggling at me!

The menu - prices are individual in Uruguayan Pesos. At the time my bus from Parque Rodo to Plaza Independencia cost me just 17 Pesos, and a 1litre beer was 100 Pesos so you can see the barbecue was quite cheap for what you get. Some of the options were meal deals, but Wesley and I chose the "pick and mix" idea, choosing our own and sharing them. We did this in order to get some variety for our money.

The chefs.

Some photos of the market around us, including the pretty waitress Natali sitting at the bar.

Devouring my awesome Uruguayan feast - the first of many I might add as I spent 3 weeks in Uruguay.

The market has an upstairs as well and I just popped up to capture a photo.

Our restaurant - La Maestranza. Well recommended. Seriously, as foods of the world go - you will love it! Uruguayan Parrilla (pronounced Parisha by the way). Yum!

Where - La Maestranza, Puerto Del Mercado, Ciudad Vieja, Montevideo, Uruguay

Cost - Around 300 Pesos each (Less than 10 British pounds per person all in, including the beer) unless you eat a lot more than we did!

What - A lively mix of pork and beef (and chicken) barbecued with spice and in different ways

Comes With - Bread, sauce and crackers

Beer - Patricia (100 Pesos for a large bottle which we shared - 4.8%)

WALKING WITH WESLEY THROUGH MERCADO DEL PUERTO:

EATING OUR PARRILLA AT MERCADO DEL PUERTO:

Night Bus To Potosi Via Oruro *

2011-11-04T19:01:00.099+11:00

Leaving La Paz had already involved a bit of mayhem, but now I was on the correct bus and relaxed as the world's highest capital city faded out of view, at least until later on that week when I returned to La Paz.

My bus by Trans Copacabana was excellent. And as usual, loads of "sellers" and "tramps" got on board in the first 45 minutes of the journey. I don't know if this is for them to get a free ride further up the road, to sell stuff or just for the heck of it.

I didn't mind them in Bolivia and Paraguay. In Argentina and Uruguay they were a bit too brash and up front and they annoyed me so I always tried to avoid giving money to them. However one of the Bolivian women selling food had her baby with her and she looked quite poor. She was struggling up the aisle and I was on seat 3 at the front, and felt a bit peckish so I bought a bag of crisps off her. She gave me a big bag!! Obviously I must have looked hungry but seriously these crisps cost me 2 Bolivianas, that's 20 pence. In the UK a bag the same size would probably cost about 2 pounds.

It was dark already and the lights of La Paz faded. I listened to my iPod and we made a number of stops in the outskirts of La Paz. Soon though it's moonlight, the tramps and sellers have all got off and it's just the seated passengers left on the bus, which is full and has Germans and Bolivians on board.

Many films come on the TV but I don't really watch them. My music sends me to sleep as we veer down mud roads, rocky roads, tight corners and all you'd expect from a Bolivian bus. Naturally I was loving it. We pass sparse "houses" scattered along the main road every now and then and I finally awake at 3am, when we pull over in the city of Oruro for a 30 minute stop. Tea and food time, plus a toilet stop.

The toilet in Oruro. They charged 2 Bolivianas for a piss there. Most of the locals just went round the corner for free, but I paid in. At least it's 20 pence towards the local economy I thought. Men and women piss and shit together here but on opposite sides of the same room. I caught of glimpse of some Bolivian mothers pulling their pants up and was shocked to see the teenage girls staring at me while I went to the toilet. Did I look that foreign?? Maybe they just wanted to see a white willy. Two of the girls were quite attractive, and though I would have liked to be photographed with them, somehow a toilet at 3am wasn't the place to get your camera out. It was quite funny really.Though, obviously I did take one photo, that one above, just for the memory.

The toilet was part of the tea/coffee shop stroke restaurant on the corner, called Residencial Diar. So it was time for a tea and snack!

I admire the Bolivians. Especially the women. For example this woman stands there all the time just beside a bowl of tea, serving it every now and then for about 20 pence. She probably doesn't know another way of life. Bolivia is the poorest country in South America, but definitely not the one with most crime or danger. The people there are very hard working.

The restaurant itself. I paid 2 Bolivianas for a nice cup of hot tea - very welcome. And then I paid 4 Bolivianas for an amazing greasy fried egg roll. I think there was potato, pork, bread, egg, tomato and red sauce in it. For a total of 6 Bolivianas (60 pence) I had a midnight feast. I sat alone. Wee video below.

Devouring my 3am Ororu sandwich. This was lush and I sneaked it back onto the bus to finish it. Before succumbing myself to dream land as the bus got shaky rocky and went on many winding mud tracks and roads.

I took this photo as sunrose and we reached an even higher altitude on the edge of Potosi. It was almost 6 am when we pulled over at the bus station in Potosi. I was totally expecting the bus station to be the one on my map near the city centre, but no. We were stranded at a "new" bus station in a mining area, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

Come dawn we were on the edge of Potosi. A high city, industrial, a mining city, situated at 4070 metres above sea level. Nicknamed the Silver City back in the day due to the amount af silver mining going on. A current population of 149,200 means it's by no means a small city.

The lonely bus station, without a map and very different to where I expected to arrive...

Leaving this bus station I teamed up with Robert, an English guy, who I randomly met when getting off the bus. We decided to head into town together and a split taxi was cheap.

After breakfast at Koala Cafe with Robert a quick bit of sight seeing I booked myself on the mining tour while Robert headed onwards to Uyuni on a later bus. There's me flying the flag later that day in the height of Potosi overlooking the city scape. This is probably the highest altitude my flag has even been photographed at, however the wind wasnt the best...

Key Songs for Potosi:

PULP - THE LAST DAY OF THE MINER'S STRIKE:

U2 - RED HILL MINING TOWN:

RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS - HIGHER GROUND:

HAVING A TEA IN ORURO, BOLIVIA:

ON MY NIGHT BUS LA PAZ TO POTOSI, BOLIVIA:

ME IN POTOSI SQUARE, BOLIVIA:

The Drugs I Didn't Want - The Worrying Exit From Buenos Aires *

2011-11-03T23:48:00.000+11:00

I arrived sometime after 6 am at Ezeiza Airport on the edge of Buenos Aires. I was meant to fly from the city's other airport, Jorge Newberry, used for internal flights (which mine was) but it was conveniently shut. But I had at least got to the correct airport, handed in my flight baggage and got my boarding pass, so the next part should be easy, shouldn't it??(I was to fly south to Ushuaia).

That's what I'd have thought, but a quick trip to the toilet had me in a real panic. To understand this story I'd have to rewind about 10 hours when I was sat in Hat Trick Bar in Palermo, Buenos Aires. I was mingling with the locals and singing football songs with them. They were friendly, if arrogant.

And as travellers often do, and we are prone to the odd spot of naughtiness, I was coereced into smoking the joints in Buenos Aires. When you're part of a party, cannabis is often brought out and it surprised me more that it was legal, or at least legal enough not to raise an eyebrow with the waft of it easily sniffable in the bar. (what lay ahead in Bolivia was slightly more raw and illegal however!)

One of the Argentinian guys gave me some free cannabis to keep as a souvenir for my travels (!) but I bunched it away in my back pocket and forgot about it. I didn't actually want it, or even realise the significance of it at the time. Almost Noel Gallagher style - "it's just like having a cup of tea."

The night continued until it was morning and I was still partying in the madness of Buenos Aires. Since I went straight from the pub crawl to the hostel to the airport, I obviously hadn't changed jeans or remembered about the dope.

I had already checked into my flight, then needed a piss. As I reached the toilet I realised my problem - the dope was spread all over my jean pocket - it had spilt out and I could smell it. This is the same guy who is quite anti-drugs and heading to Antarctica the following day! I narrowed down my options to 2:

1. Throw away my jeans

2. Clean my jeans as best as possible and hope the small amount of dope remaining wouldn't be noticed.

I went for option 1, then quickly realised I had NO other trousers, shorts or bottoms in my hand luggage - they were all in the hold baggage. And there was no way I was going up to the counter asking for my luggage back. That would take time, and cause suspicions. And I figured I'd rather make the flight than cause annoyance to the airport staff. So it was option 2. It took me 20 minutes including flushing down the toilet all remains of cannabis from my jeans. Without a policeman or airport security staff coming in or out, I hoped.

I didn't know how strict Argentina was, but I was travelling this time on my British passport so didn't want any remote attention from the local Police, given the whole Falklands War history, plus the Maradona/Beckham incidents. They would just assume I'm English due to my passport and overlook the Northern Irish thing. So I had to have my jeans clean and just risk it - praying there were no sniffer dogs.

I got through security and I boarded the flight no problem. It was actually delayed in the end - so I had time for a coffee - funny that as I had rushed like hell to get to the right airport...

A last bit of sweat shed on route to the plane - we got a bus from the terminal. I don't remember much of this.

Boarding the flight.

It was a relief on take off and I was sure that on an internal flight to the southernmost city in the world, they would not have sniffer dogs snooping around for someone smuggling in cannabis.

What followed my departure from Buenos Aires could only be described as sheer bliss. Amazing views over the Patagonian mountains...

Free food and drink on route too!! I was totally in travel mode and looking forward to a trip that even now I cannot believe I went on.

The closer we got to Ushuaia, the pulse starting beating and I had forgotten the whole unwanted drugs risk. What an approach to Ushuaia.

Landing in Ushuaia, one of the world's most southern airports!

To my surprise there was no checks for passports or any sign of sniffer dogs. In fact this airport was rather quiet. Many things surprised me here - NO buses to the city centre - meaning either walk or get a taxi. (I chose taxi). It was NOT cold - I was told this was the world's coldest city. Wanted to change to shorts almost instantly.

I was safely in the city I would leave to go to Antarctica from, but some confusion was to lie ahead. I got the taxi driver to take me directly to the Hotel Ushuaia, where the itinerary for the trip clearly stated I was due to stay for the night! The information and email from GAP Adventures read (of Hotel Ushuaia) "we recommend getting there early on the 4th November. The trip commences on the 5th November." To me that meant the trip to Antarctica began tomorrow - the 5th November. It was now DEFINITELY the 4th November and I presumed was booked into the hotel for the night...

Transport Used - Airport Bus, Aeroplane, Taxi

Drugs Invloved - Squashed manky cannabis that I had no desire to even have on me!!

Cities Visited - Buenos Aires, Ushuaia

Key Songs - Double A-Side:

THE VERVE - THE DRUGS DON'T WORK:

MANIC STREET PREACHERS - DRUG DRUG DRUGGY:

KIKA CLUB, BUENOS AIRES, 4 HOURS BEFORE MY FLIGHT TO USHUAIA:

JUST ARRIVED IN USHUAIA AIRPORT:

Buenos Noches Buenos Aires *

2011-11-02T22:28:00.001+11:00

It was time to say Buenos Noches (goodnight) to Buenos Aires exactly this time last year in order for me to fly south down to Ushuaia - the world's most southern "city" which is located in Argentina at Tierra Del Fuego - "land of fire". Ironically one of the coldest places you could go! (So called however due to the fact that fires were lit there to keep warm).

It wasn't easy negotiating my way out of the dirty, over hyped Argentine capital. Indeed it's not a bad city and I have good memories there, but it's just not my thing. I find a lot of Argentinian people too arrogant in truth and their over hyping of this dodgy and bland capital do themselves no favours to travel sceptics like myself. Indeed you'll be much more welcomed in Paraguay and Uruguay, both border countries of Argentina.

I have to thank Maria immensely in helping me. Maria Drzazga worked in the Limehouse Hostel (well recommended by the way) in Lima in Central Buenos Aires. My Spanish wasn't the best at the time (though that did actually improve) so a phone call to an airport or bus company would have been a waste of time for me. Besides I didn't have a working phone. Just 12 hours before I was due to fly to Ushuaia, I received an e-mail saying the flight was cancelled.

This had worried me a bit as I had already booked a very dear trip to Antarctica just 2 days later (but in the confusion I thought it was 1 day later) from the port of Ushuaia and desperately needed to get down there ASAP. The flight had already been changed and cancelled and put back on before, all via e-mail. It was with Aerolineas Argentinas.

This time the problem was the airport I was due to fly out of no longer existed! (Or at least did, but was under renovation for a long period of months). The Jorge Newberry Airport, which is only 4 kilometres from the city centre and not too hard to get to from the hostel. So the airline had basically CANCELLED that initial flight, given that it's departure point (Jorge Newberry) was closed, but assured me it was to fly from the other airport in Buenos Aires 45 minutes earlier than original. Sounds OK so far.

But throw in the fact I was staying at a hostel in the centre of BA, close to the "closed" airport Jorge Newberry. And that the main airport, the other one, Ezeiza Airport is 35 kilometres away from the city centre. Add to that the fact I was on an all night pub crawl due to begin in 43 minutes from a hostel in Obelisco Suites, Florida Street, so had to be there for that of course. Add to that no night buses to the other airport that are "recommended", and furthermore throw in the stupid fact that I hadn't packed, my fault for doing a bit of late afternoon sight seeing on my last few hours of daylight in BA.

So Maria made a few phone calls. Firstly the flight was indeed flying from the other airport, Ezeiza and that Jorge Newberry was indeed shut. Secondly it was now an earlier flight, meaning I'd miss the included hostel breakfast and have to leave from the hostel at 5.30 am in order to make it. I'm a budget traveller at the best of times, so was NOT prepared to fork out the money for a direct taxi. (I had caught a bus from the airport before and was expecting to take one to get me back).

Thirdly I could get a dodgy nightbus, but that would involve a walk or a taxi to get to it, and then the timetable may not have been on my side. That bus takes longer to get to the airport, meaning my pub crawl would be cut short, something I also didn't want given Buenos' reputation as a party city. BUT fourthly there was a slightly better bus, called Manuel Tienda Leon which goes direct to the airport from downtown Buenos Aires. This departed from a location easily reached by a cheap taxi from the hostel. On that note, I thanked Maria for all her help, packed my bag and locked it away and ran to Florida Street to start the pub crawl. The pub crawl came to a climax at 4am!!! I then hadn't brought enough money for a taxi home to the hostel, and was alone in the middle of Palermo somewhere, without a map.

So I decided to get in a taxi and tell the driver how much money I had and to head in the direction towards Avenida 9 de Julio (the main street and widest street in the world) and dump me off when my money had come up on the meter. He did just that, about 20 minutes walk before the hostel. Past dodgy tramps, local hookers and with an excessive amount of drink on me, I somehow found my way back very confidently as a sun was beginning to rise.

To this day I have no idea how I did that, could easily have got mugged or attacked, or most likely, totally lost. I got back to the hostel no problem in the end. I had paid for the night in the hostel I hadn't even used my bed or been able to take the free breakfast that morning (as it starts serving at 7 am), but I had used their showers and lockers and Maria's help alone was worth the bed fee. I grabbed my oversized bag, got either Maria or Javi to phone me a taxi and I relaxed with them, enjoying their company. It wasn;t enough time for a final beer in BA, but...

Before I left the hostel there was even time to quickly flick on my facebook, merely so I could say "Buenos Noches Buenos Aires!" I had waited a long time to use that phrase. Little did I know that in the following 5 weeks I would pass through and leave Buenos Aires twice more, as fate would direct me.

The taxi guided me through some nice street scenes at sunrise. And I was now at the Manuel Tienda station waiting. There weren't many other people waiting on the bus, which left from Avenida Eduardo Madero. Having been knackered from the pub crawl, I barely even remember getting there. But it was another amazing part of a travel journey.

As some airport workers boarded the bus before me (there weren't any other "traveller types" on that bus at 5.20 am), they gave off a sniff of disapproval. I obviously had done a full spot of sightseeing, a night on the piss, a walk home and some sweating in between, without ever thinking "where's my deodorant?" I found a deep hypocritical irony in that and most of all in myself. The reason being my lasting memory of Buenos Aires will be of a dirty city. Perhaps it was my own neglect of hygience for the want of wanderlust that gave me such an impression of a city which pans out as good on the grand scheme of things.

I was on board a nice pleasant, clean, safe bus, iPod on and the madness of BA left behind me. The time there shows 5.52 am. In the previous 24 hours I'd had no sleep at all. The bus journey to the airport must have taken about 40 minutes and cost 46 Pesos (about 5 - 6 pounds at the time).

My last sighting on central BA as I drifted in search of the land far south and a childhood dream. Antarctica lay ahead.

Not before some more major hic-cups and travel tales which would only fuel my desire even more to see the world's coldest continent.

The journey continues from Ezeiza Airport. At least this one wasn't closed for renovation...

And given that it was now almost 7am, I really should have called this article "Buenos Dias Buenos Aires." (and i know about the spelling mistake, it just ain't funny otherwise).

Transport Used - 2 taxis, 1 Manuel Tienda Bus

Distance travelled - around 50 kilometres

Next Destination - Ushuaia, Argentina for a boat to Antarctica

PARTYING IN PALERMO, BUENOS AIRES PUB CRAWL:

SUNRISE CATCHING THE MANUEL TIENDA AIRPORT BUS, BUENOS AIRES:

Inca Trail Day 4 - Part 3 - "The Final Triumphant Descent" *

2011-10-17T04:15:00.083+11:00

And so on Christmas morning 2010 in the Peruvian mountains with a sky of cloud, mist and rain I lived out one of my lifelong dreams - to visit Machu Picchu.

This part of the trail was by far the best. Simply because it was the last part, or as it has been so eloquently put before "the triumphant descent." That really is what it is.

Yes that's right, it's a downward hike to Machu Picchu itself, God knows we needed it the amount of upward hiking we had done in the past four days.

Cows were grazing on a hill which gave me an idea of how they might have survived food wise living here. That along with the endless water supply, and the fact it is believed they planted many vegetables in and around Machu Picchu itself. Forget all that, the dream like walk down these Inca valleys had our eyes feasted on the eerie mist which hid a lost city ahead.

The final descent sees you arrive above Machu Picchu, and at first you are not sure if this bit is actually part of Machu Picchu itself. It's not. The only parts that are actually Machu Picchu, are those beyond the entrance gate.

The mist was still heavy and blurred most of our first glimpses of the lost city of Machu Picchu, but this photo gets close to showing just how amazing it all was.

I was just in awe and emotional on this part of the hike. It was all done and dusted, now we hung around near the actual entrance so we could all go in as a team and get the Guided Tour which was part of the itinerary on my booking.

I may have worked hard and saved for this trip, however it was only thanks to my parents that I lived this dream and saw with my very own eyes the myth that is Machu Picchu. They paid for this one as a Christmas present in 2010. There was me on Christmas Morning aged 30 in the cold, misty mountains of Peru flying my well travelled Northern Ireland flag above the lost Inca City known as Machu Picchu, an English translation which means "Old Mountain."

Of course nobody really knows what exactly happened here. How many people lived here, what life was like here, why people stopped living here, why it was left and possibly even more mysteriously why it wasn't even discovered until 1911. Yes, I was there on the 99th anniversary of worldwide knowledge that this place actually exists. The mystery of Machu Picchu may remain forever but the beauty of it will never leave anyone who has been there...

Mirka dna Katie taking a quick break and enjoying the views before the final few steps down to Machu Picchu.

We didn't have time for a group photo as our group was not altogether and those ahead of the pack like myself were waiting around, though other group captured the group shots here.

I grabbed another shot at Machu Picchu with the Northern Ireland flag at this elevated point.

The view of Machu Picchu while we waited on the others.

Close ups of the Inca Buildings at Machu Picchu. In a totally strange and ridiculous way they reminded me of Dunluce Castle in Northern Ireland.

Within 20 minutes the mission was accomplished and we were inside Machu Picchu itself.

A fitting place to be on Christmas Day.

From - Intipunku

To - Entrance to Machu Picchu

Distance Travelled - 2 kilometres

Distance From Machu Picchu - down the steps was the entrance, less than 200 metres away

Distance Travelled on Inca Trail so far - 48 kilometres

KEY SONG:
OH COME ALL YE FAITHFUL (JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT) on Christmas Day:

FINAL PART OF INCA TRAIL, "THE TRIUMPHANT DESCENT":

STANDING ABOVE MACHU PICCHU:

JUST BEFORE ENTERING MACHU PICCHU:

Inca Trail Day 4 - Part 2- Intipunku/Sun Gate *

2011-10-16T03:42:00.084+11:00

Dave and I walked most of this bit together, from the Winay Wayna Guard Post to Intipunku. I don't remember much of it, other than there were a few gentle climbs and generally everyone just wanted to speed onwards. Indeed I don't remember stopping even for a water break until we reached Intipunku. The reason for that was probably our eagerness to get to Intipunku...

Because at Intipunku we were told we would get our first glimpse of Machu Picchu. Clouds and mist were in the sky which also took time to drizzle on us.

It was a cliff hanging walk to Intipunku, and arrival there I feasted my eyes on the obvious sight ahead - Machu Picchu. Above there is the first ever live photo I took with Machu Picchu in it.

However having finally seen Machu Picchu for real, it disappeared after about 2 minutes of arriving at Intipunku (which translates as Sun Gate) as mist and clouds covered it from view.

I was definitely in the first 50 or so to reach that point that day, and one of the lucky ones to see it before the mist came. Anyone arriving 2 minutes later would have missed the preview of the day's main event.

The best view of Machu Picchu before the mist blurred it out of view, at least for the next hour or so.

The zig zag track we saw from here was interesting and many of us asked what was it. Of course it is nothing to do with the Incas, it is "the cheater's way to Machu Picchu", basically you can get a bus from the village of Aguas Calientes up to Machu Picchu. I have to be honest and say that anyone that goes that way doesn't really deserve to see Machu Picchu. It would be a bit like getting a helicopter to the top of Mount Everest. Of course, those less fortunate and with handicaps is fine, but for anyone able to walk and hike, there should be no alternative route to Machu Picchu.

I flew my Northern Ireland flag from here anyway as I wasn't sure there would be a chance to get a photo of it later with Machu Picchu in the background (which there were ample more!).

Machu Picchu is in mist just above me.

At the edge of Intipunku.

From this point at Intipunku, you could just sense with every step the nearing of the end of the hike.

"Misty peak at you?"

Further along the track we came across more Inca Ruins and a sense of wonder.

For a while this was my view for this part of the trail. Mysterious...

At this clearing we kept thinking we were there already but this was the small Inca Ruins before Machu Picchu itself.

There was this final mini Inca Ruins, and we all kind of knew that was our last bit of "sightseeing" on route.

After taking this photo of the end of these ruins, it was time to make the final descent...

From - Winay Wayna

To - Intipunku

Distance Travelled - 4 kilometres

Distance from Machu Picchu - 2 kilometres

Key Song:

SASH with TINA COUSINS - MYSTERIOUS TIMES:
(especially for the line "if you see what's behind then these are mysterious times")

THE VIEW FROM INTIPUNKU LOOKING TOWARDS MACHU PICCHU:

Inca Trail Day 4 - Part 1 - Christmas Morning in Winay Wayna*

2011-10-15T02:58:00.057+11:00

It wasn't the earliest Christmas Day rise I've ever had, but it was one of the coldest and most sublime. It was 5 am at Winay Wayna, Peru.

Christmas Morning Breakfast was served in the darkness. I had packed already and was basically ready for my food then the walk...

Maria and Damian were already there at the Christmas Breakfast Table. Feliz Navidad all round as we got tore into our pancakes with dulce de leche, some bread and a well needed hot cup of tea. There were Christmas patterns like angels, stars and santas on the pancakes...

It was still dark as we left Winay Wayna for the exciting final part of the trail.

All smiles on Christmas Morning with Roberta from Brazil.

And Sheryl on the right, looks a bit scared by my pose. We were in a queue as soon as we left Winay Wayna camp.

The queue was long and boring.

But luckily our group were near the front of the queue and got to the guard post quickly enough.

There at the Winay Wayna Guard Post, you got your passport checked and stamped as well as your trail ticket before heading onwards into the woods, on a path which saw gorgeous views appear at intervals on the right hand side...

As you can see the dawn was breaking and the most special Christmas Day adventure of my lifetime was almost a reality.

That's me just after getting through the Guard Post at Winay Wayna. Day 4, the last day of the hike was well and truly underway and we were anticipating our possible first sighting of Machu Picchu itself on arrival at the next set of Inca Ruins - Intipunku (which translates as Sun Gate).

From - Winay Wayna Base Camp

To - Winay Wayna Guard Post

Distance Travelled - 1 kilometre

Distance From Machu Picchu - 5 kilometres

LEAVING BASE AT 5 AM FROM WINAY WAYNA (please forgive my lunatic pronunciations on this as "winney hi oona" and many other videos):

Inca Trail Day 3 - Part 9 - Christmas Eve Party at Winay Wayna *

2011-10-14T16:56:00.151+11:00

Everyone was in high spirits at Winay Wayna. Our Inca Trail group had really bonded well. This was the party the night before the point of the exercise. While we knocked back the ice cold Cusquenas, talk diverted itself to the Inca Ruins of Machu Picchu.

I was surprised to be the only one in my group to wear a Santa Hat for the party. Wearing a jacket in this photo also means it must have been cold...

Left to right - Cheryl, Katie, Dave and Stan. 4 of our gang!

I think these were quite dear. But then again it's the only bar for miles and miles. It went down a treat and in fact was a Godsend. On Christmas Eve I've had an alcoholic drink every year of my life!

Showing the Northern Irish colours in this wee bar in Winay Wayna. Literally in the middle of nowhere and easily to date the best and weirdest place I have spent Christmas Eve. The previous two I was working, the one before that I lay in bed with 3 broken bones in my right foot.

The lads and lasses in our group got into the bar and blagged this prime table in the centre for the 17 of us. It was some party. It started with late afternoon snacks. Popcorn, cookies, biscuits and hot tea.

Katie, Dave and Stan enjoy the fact we have killed 3 days of hiking.

Just after that, and during the party we went outside into the cold cold Peruvian air to get a group photo with all the guides and porters. This was an enjoyable moment and a farewell almost, as we gave a tip to those who had helped us, we all had the chance to speak to them in front of the group and it was touching. Especially at Christmas.

After the initial snacks, a FEAST arrived. It was the most phenomenal endless supply of food I had seen. I wasn't even that hungry and a bit tired.

Everyone was so happy and it was Christmas Eve. Many toasts were raised and I simply thought there is no way to beat this in my lifetime at Christmas.

Another view down the table.

Getting stuck into the feast. As you can see there is food of every type imagineable and simply endless supply. The chefs were excellent. The trip had been truly amazing so far, and the best still lay ahead.

The food arrives. The water break was brief. Normality was restored soon after with an influx of Cusquenas.

Some of my Christmas Eve Feast from 2010.

Soaking in the pre-Picchu atmosphere. There was also showers available at Winay Wayna, for a small price and massages too. But I resisted all of that, preferring to stay dirty till the end and rough it out the proper way.

The group speeches - Sonya (to the right) speaks. After that we all had the chance to say a few words in Spanish. I wasn;t going to attempt Kechuan. I remember saying something like "Los porters son moy loco", which I meant "them porters are nuts."

My fellow hikers at the speech.

A group shot on my camera of everyone. This photo isnt as good as the one above from someone else's camera. Also that night in Winay Wayna, my old camera's flash broke and I dashed all the way back to our campsite during the meal just to get my second camera. Not just for that night's photos but the chance to charge it ahead of Picchu. There were obviously no electric points on the Inca Trail up to this point.

The Peruvian porters got into the Christmas spirit with my Northern Ireland flag.

This was a nice moment. In "the bar" they had a Christmas tree so I got my token photo.

This is "the bar" at Winay Wayna. Basically you buy a token from a desk on the other side and then simply redeem your token for a beer at this bar. Easily the weirdest location for a bar I've ever been to. There were all mixes of people in there and the buzz was amazing. Christmas songs were being pumped out and we were all having fun. I remember remarking that in the entire year there could not be a better night to have spent in this bar in Winay Wayna.

Another snap of the porters and I chatting and enjoying the pure cold air at Winay Wayna. Great bunch of lads, hard, hard working men.

Another photo from the feast.

Just after the flash on my first camera bust...

A view of the bar, just before darkness set completely over the mountain village of Winay Wayna...

The Queue for the cashier, where you bought your tokens before heading to the bar to get your drink. I was loving the Christmas decorations, the music and the atmosphere. The DJ played the song "Down Under" which totally made me miss my life in Australia, but gave me a great memory from the year before where I had worked in PJ Gallagher's Pub on Christmas Eve. And within 2 months I'd be back in my old job and old flat in the land down under. I got emotional as the song came on and made a video. Wham's Last Christmas and many others were belting out of this mega party in Winay Wayna. While some really did party all night, I went to bed before midnight, read for a while and fell asleep just before 1am, we were due to get up at 5am anyway for breakfast and the final descent to Machu Picchu. Merry Christmas!

Where - Winay Wayna

Amenities - Showers, toilets, bar

Beer - Cusquena

Price - 10 Soles each

Food - All you can eat - massive selection - chicken thighs, chicken drumsticks, sausages, rice, noodles, pasta, pizza, crisps, vegetables, pork, stuffed peppers

VIDEOS FROM WINAY WAYNA:

1. CHRISTMAS EVE PARTY IN FULL SWING WITH "DOWN UNDER" PUMPING:

2. CHRISTMAS EVE BEER IN WINAY WAYNA:

IRONICALLY ALMOST ONE YEAR EARLIER, THE SAME SONG, "DOWN UNDER" LIVE AFTER WORK IN PJ GALLAGHERS, PARRAMATTA, AUSTRALIA:

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2008, WORKING IN BOURNEMOUTH PAVILION, ENGLAND:

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2009, WORKING IN PJ GALLAGHERS, PARRAMATTA, AUSTRALIA: