Santiago was yet another bow in the ribbon like country that is possibly one of the most diverse in the world.

Chile is divided in its climate, socially and politically. It is 4,300 km long and 175km wide. In the north, like San Pedro there is desert. In the South like Tierra Del Fuego, Alpine and snow, glaciers fjords and lakes. The centre is Meddeterneanesque. We had finally reached the capitol after having travelled the length and breadth of this country over the past year. Not only was it the capitol but it was our final stop in Latin America, the last place we would be visiting on our year in South and Central America and the fly away point to Australia.

Being a big city, and still scared of having our only hope of getting into Australia stolen, we accepted recommendation and checked into a hotel in the centre. However boardinghouse-like, we felt safe. We would have 3 days here. Apart from all night vigils protecting our belongings, we would do a bit of sightseeing. But not in the usual military manner, we would just wander, chill and visit whatever took our fancy. There are only so many Cathedrals you can see.

Parks and museums, getting cultured again.

Santiago is essentially a very big, bustling city. Being 5th biggest in South America it has its share of traffic, overcrowding, skyscrapers and smog. After reluctantly shopping for new trainers (I loved my old ones) and buying yet more T.shirts for Jez, we stumbled across a really amazing park. Cerro Santa Lucia has striking views across Santiago, beautiful water fountains, waterfalls and monuments cut into the rock. We happened to be there for sunset and it really was special sight. An oasis in the middle of all that bustle.

The Plaza De Armas was a traditional South American Square. Ornate, grand, full of people relaxing in the sun and soaking up the greenery in the midst of art exhibitions and the odd protest.

We had heard that the Museo De Chileno de Arte Precolombino had really a really great exhibition of artefacts found before the 16C when that xenophobic, psychopathic slave trader Colubus arrived. They were incredible. It took us right back to the jungle, busts/heads of indigenous people chewing on their coca leaves. Corridors of priceless Gold and spectacularly designed jewellery, laden with multicoloured stones and precious shells, wood sculptures which looked like totem poles but intricately carved with figures of men and women. All in all there were 11 rooms with 450 pieces of art going from 1250BC until 1532AD and the exhibitions, dedicated to Nazca, Mochica, Huari, Chancay and Inca cultures made it a really nice summary of all we had experienced and learnt in South America.

Will we get to the airport?
We roamed the city killing time before our outrageously timed flight. It was dark when we had to take the elusive bus to the airport that only left from key points hidden from public knowledge. A taxi driver took us to what was meant to be a bus stop but informed us that there was no way we would catch it for another 2 hours and he would have to take us all the way in his car. 15 minutes later, after completely ignoring his protests the bus did in fact come. Clutching our bags like our life depended on it we had never been so happy to be on public transport.

Australia awaited.

Out of the bus in Valparaiso we avoided the taxi drivers and middle aged women renting their spare bedrooms out and jumped onto the first bus that looked like it was going to town. I knew where I wanted to go, found the place in the book, mentally marked places of reference to show our buses progress, we even asked the conductor to tell us when we got to the right spot and drop us off, there's nothing like a bit of local knowledge. Obviously after all this careful planning we managed to overshoot our stop by several minutes and, Amanda shouting expletives at the useless conductor, we disembarked; Only to have to walk back the way we came to find our hostel. On top of all that we had to climb an enormously steep hill in order to get there. Lucky for us it was one of the nicest places we'd been to for a while, Casa Aventura, big double room, equipped kitchen, free tea and coffee and breakfast in the mornings. Nice staff too, willing to go out of their way to help with info or tips on where to go, what to see.

We could feel the end of our adventure in South America coming to an end, kind of like that pre-christmas snow feeling, muted and content, but sadly heart-rending at the same time. Like there is a tightness in the chest, so innocent that you can hardly feel it, only when you think about it do you remember its there, but its there all the time. Like leaving a lover, or the death of your pet dog it leaves an imperceptible hole in your soul that you only notice out of the corner of your eye.

The Ascensors of Valparaiso
It was sedately then that we started to explore Valparaiso that day. Originally built in the small bay down at the waters edge, the town’s port became so successful that what was a small settlement quickly grew to cover the surrounding hills and valleys too. As a result it’s impossible to go anywhere without feeling your ears pop with the constant ups and downs. Whether for wheelchair friendliness, or just to accommodate the fat rich people, the powers that be have built huge, mechanical "ascensors" up the steepest of the hills, tram-like carriages on rails that are constantly ferrying people up and down to and from the higher levels. We loved these relics of a more decadent past instantly, choosing to ride on them even when we didn't want to go anywhere particularly.

We wandered into the centre of town, and area still mostly dominated by its massive port. Trade has suffered here a great deal since the building of the Panama Canal, they still seemed to have a lot of boats coming and going though, and loads of navy ships just off shore looking impressive and dangerous.

Views to dive for.
The buildings in this town are generally of corrugated iron and wood, painted in all sorts of rich pastel shades. It really is a good looking place, even more so for being slightly shabby, rundown and well past its glory days. The place is obviously on the decline, but yet retains enough of its former glory to stay endearing to the travelling passer by. The Mrs Haversham atmosphere here is like a magnet and source of inspiration to artists and poets from all over the world. The views are exquisite, jumping out at you as you turn unawares around corners. Not only out to sea, also inland across colourful rooves and undulating hills. There are also random murals spread around the town, paintings and abstract designs in the parks, walls covered in colour. Most of the better murals are painted in a certain area (up a particularly steep hill). They are apparently famous worldwide. We took a walk around, looking at the various churches, funkily designed park benches, vistas, and stylish plant pots, eventually arriving at one of Pablo Nerudas old houses, "La Sebastiana". Neruda is (was) South Americas most celebrated poets, he lived in Santiago but, being one of the few poets to actually make loads of cash before he died, he had houses all over the place. This one in particular is built on the edge of a steep cliff, four stories tall it is crammed with the physical expressions of the poets mind. He married an artist and shared the house with a builder friend, quite a combination for interior decoration. Consequently there are huge windows looking out over the city, interesting nooks and crannies housing amongst other things a bar (Neruda is credited with inventing his own cocktail) and a toilet with a see through door. The walls sport murals and collages depicting scenes of the sea, sailors and the history of the town. One room has a massive open fireplace in the middle and a porcelkain dog like Joey's in Friends. Very cool. I especially like the study, like a scene from Harry Potter.

The bath, after Jez has used it

Vina del Mar
We woke up early the next day and boarded the train to Vina Del Mar, a more touristy resort about half an hour down the coast. I love taking trains to places, they don't have nearly enough trains in South America. Unlike Valparaiso, Vina del Mar sports beaches, touristy shops, an actual shopping centre and pretty ice cream stalls. We were quite literally out for a day trip to the beach. Being a holiday resort town, they have bigger more expensive hotel complexes, like the Hotel Del Mar, where
I couldn't even afford a bed on the lawn.

Forcing my girlfriend to buy clothes.
We wandered down to the beach, found a nice bakery to get some lunch from and bought a milkshake. Then, as we were very soon to fly out to Oz, I dragged a reluctant Amanda through some shops to try and get her some new clothes. Unlike most girls, Amanda hates shopping and can never commit to buying anything. She is far more likely to look for four hours, get in a mood because she "can't find anything", or there's "nothing that will fit me". I have stood in shops with about 3 square miles of floorspace, all covered in racked clothes with Amanda saying, "theres nothing here". I wasn't going to put up with this today. I forced her to try stuff on, then, after returning to the same shops for the third time I just sent her out and put what I wanted her to have on the card. She needed more clothes and if she decided to buy them when we got to Oz the prices would tripple.

Shopping done, laden with new bags, happy and tired, we got the train back to Valparaiso, found a supermarket and bought eggs for an omlette. Time was running short. Where before we'd counted what we had left in months, then weeks, now we worked in mere days. Due to go off to Santiago tomorrow, the last place before Australia, we had a drink that night, we were sad/happy, one adventure was almost over, another was about to begin.

Pinochet.
That night we found some people talking about Pinochet, the guy who looks like the harmless old man living next door, but is actually a psycho dictator type, hell bent on ethnic cleansing and mass population control. His 17 year rule started in 1973 after the bloodiest coup in the history of South America, a continent not averse to bloody military coups. He rampaged through the rest of the 70's and 80's, finally leaving power in 1990 with a legacy of over 3000 dead and many many more missing. Since then Chile has become Latin Americas fastest growing economy, the effects of his misrule are almost invisible. Perhaps thats why the Chillean people seemed to be so reluctant to talk about it. If you didn't know it happened you could easily believe that this country had been at peace for years and years. After he was taken into the open arms of another evil polititian (Margaret Thatcher) I heard that he was trying to claim that he was medically unable to stand trial. At the moment he is back in Chile, the supreme court having decided that this is rubbish. I hope they throw the book at him, preferably a big heavy book at that, with spikes on it.

The next day we waited for our bus to the capital by wandering around the town one last time, after a quick lunch at the hostal we picked up our bags, now far heavier than they should be, and said goodbye to Valparaiso. Last stop, Santiago...

It did have to happen really. If you go through 12 months in South and Central America escaping any form of theft it would be a miracle. We had been lucky so far but to be robbed in the last 2 weeks was heart breaking. At least we had our passports. Later we found out that Australian Working holiday Visa’s have numbers on them directly associated with the passport you had when you applied. We would not have been allowed the visas for Australia if they were stolen! At the VERY last minute I moved mine from the bag that was stolen!

Chiloe was booked and we were going to explore the island.

Our Chiloe Posse.
We were picked up by the company outside of our hotel and after a quick tour of the local ports and fish factories in Puerto Mont we were on the car ferry within no time. It was a wet, windy, cold and foggy day. We stood out on the deck and gazed at the water, not being able to see far, dazed and pensive. A sea lion with a baby followed our ferry, and as we watched them play our minds were diverted a little bit and we became excited about the day ahead. It was time to meet the rest of our group and put a smile on our faces.

Chiloe is the second largest island in Chile, second to Tierra Del Fuego of course. Charles Darwin apparently ‘discovered’ the island in 1567 but dismissed it as forlorn and deserted. When the Spanish were colonising the country they got as far as Chiloe but the Mapuche Indian warriors turned them away. The island was cut off for 200 years and supposedly relied on a ship once a year sent from the Viceroyalty in Lima. I personally don’t think they relied upon anything. There is a huge traditional culture of subsistence farming, fishing and woollen handicrafts.

The local's Livelihood



The people built amazing houses and churches. Made from the native Alerse tree, 9 of the churches are protected national monuments. Distinctive by the wooden shingles designed to protect them from the rain they are decorative and unusual and certainly a symbol of this mystical island.

Traditional wooden shingle houses.


Chiloe’s mystical legends.
There are many many legends and mystic tales to be told about this place. Settling into a cabin on the shores of the island, sat by the roaring open fire, wrapped in blankets, listening to stories told by the locals, so friendly and happy to relate what they have grown up believing in, eating curanto, the freshest of fish, would be the real way to experience Chiloe. We were told different versions of the story whilst on the island but these explanations from www.chiloeweb.com/chwb/chiloeisland, by far explain them the best.

La Pincoya.
“This goddess of extraordinary beauty personifies the spirit of ocean and shore. The abundance or scarcity of the marine harvest depends upon this lovely creature.

Pincoya rises from the depths of the sea, half-naked, draped in kelp and dances on beaches or wave tops. When facing the open sea in her dance there will be an abundant harvest of seafood. However if she turns her face towards the land there will be a want of food.
If the scarcity is prolonged due to the absence of Pincoya it is possible to entice her back by magic ceremonies conducted by witches or magicians.

Pincoya is so beautiful, sensual and attractive that she makes fish swim with their mouths open.

Pincoya comes to the aid of shipwrecked islanders and at times fishermen come across her amongst the rocks combing her long red or blond hair” She is aid to entice them into the sea.

El Traucho.
A deformed and ugly dwarf with course and swollen features, roughly dressed with a conical cap. His feet are mere stumps, his voice only grunts, he carries a stone axe or wooden club called "Pahueldún". He lives in the forest and possesses superhuman strength. With his little stone axe he can fell any tree, no matter how large or hard, in only three strokes. He walks with the aid of "Pahueldún". He is usually found seated between the trees weaving his clothes of bark.
He likes to chase and attack women with the intention of stealing their virginity. Despite his repugnant appearance, he engenders an irresistible attraction in the hearts of young girls and inspires erotic dreams. Once aroused, the girls arise and leave home, searching for him in the woods. With one look he seduces them, they fall to the ground whereupon he ravishes them.

If anyone tries to bother him he throws them into the air turning them rigid with deformed hands, arms and legs, killing them with his glance or leaving them to die within the year.

The legends are a plenty and apparently if you ask any local they will be happy to tell any one of them. They have used these tales to entice tourists to the island, some making a living by selling their woollen hats, scarfs and finely made coats. You bloody need them in that cold!

The wool from which the hats come!



Others sell handicrafts based on creatures such as Brujos, who have a secret society on the island. To become one, one must perform evil acts, even killing a family member to acquire magical powers. Brujos can fly, wearing the vest made out of the skin of a virgin worn inside out. Who wouldn’t buy a leather key ring of a witch to remember Chiloe by!

Chiloe really reminded us of home. Places like Dartmoor and Wales. It was all the myths, certainly it was because of the climate….more specifically rain, but it was the type of rain and the smells. However, even if that passport had gone, it would be a long time until we saw England again.

Admiring the fort in Ancud

On the ferry heading back to Puerto Montt, the scene of the crime, Jez’s face suddenly went opaque. I said to him “ what was I the bag?”. After much persuasion and realisation that saving it till when the trip had ended would not be a possibility, he told me, it was all the Cd’s of our photographs. Normally this would not be a problem, I have copies. On this ONE occasion, most of them were together and it was the bottom had fallen out of our world.

Facing up to reality. How many photographs of the last 12 months were stolen?
We nearly ran to our bedroom from the minibus but were scared of what
we would find when we checked our rucksacks for the missing CD's.
There was a slight chance that Jez could have been mistaken but that
chance was not to be.

In that bag was:
The bag itself, a present from Jez's Dad.
15 Cd's, over 3000 photos from 10 different countries.
Mini Speakers that Andy had bought us.
Our travel towel.
A special flask that Manjit and Dawn bought us.
Jez's favourite naughty T.shirt.
The mobile phone charger.
All of our toiletries, tablets and potions.
Jez's spare glasses and prescription sunglasses.

Other things we have either lost or had stolen on this trip:Our travel plug, left in a hotel room in Brazil.
1 pair of shoes left in a hotel restarant in San Juan Del Sur, Venezuala.
1 sleeping bag left on a bus to El Calafate.
I special torch/head lamp, a present from Steven and Sarah stolen in
the Salt hotel by our guide.
Two battery chargers left in hotel rooms.
Many toothbrushes and toothpastes.
Jez;s coat, stolen from the Spanish school in Antigua.
Jez's dive cards and credit cards, stolen in Peru.
Jez's spare pair of prescription sunglasses, pickpocketed in Bolivia.
100 dollars given away in a book by Amanda. (by accident)
Our 35mm pocket camera, under Igazu falls.
100 dollars given away in a book by Amanda. (by accident)
Our 35mm pocket camera, under Igazu falls.

Thankfully, for some reason that he canot remember, Jez copied
photogaphs onto his Mums computer when he went home for Stephen and
Sarah's wedding. The first thing we did was email her to ask 1) if
they were still there and 2) could she keep them for us. Waiting for
an answer was like am eternity. We also mailed Andy to ask him if he
had any copies, needless to say, 5 months later we still have had no
reply. The intensity of sadness was literally gutting.

Help from the lonely planet web forum
My spirit guides sent me an idea. Post a help message onto the Lonely
Planets chat forum and ask anyone if they could retrieve pictures
hidden on hard drives right through from Mexico to Bolivia.(a thing
that Jez just does) Within 3 hours I had recieved 11 responses and all
of them awaiting further instructions as to the whereabouts of the
computers and where the files were hidden. Complete strangers
restoring our faith in humanity. In Chilie one person had gained some
smelly socks by robbing us and across South America other people of
all nationalities were willing to give their spare time to help a
fellow traveller in their moment of anguish. It made
it all better.Thank you to all those people in the world that can be
as selfless and make such a difference.

Hearts lifted we just wanted to get out of Puerto Montt and onto
Santiago and get into Australia without having anything else stolen.
Our passports have never
been so precious and we guarded them like our life depended on it.

The bus ride from Bariloche to Puerto Montt turned out to be a joy. We were aware that a new Australian adventure was just hiding around the corner and or time in South America was drawing to a sighing end. Sad as this was, our spirits were lifted high as we drove through the primeval forest that separates the far south of Argentina and Chile. Surrounded by huge evergreen trees, all lightly dusted with snow and teeming with animal life. I half expected a Grizzly Adams type character to come lumbering through the brush, bear in tow, to stop the bus for a ride to his log cabin.

Taking the backpackers option through the lake District.
Through the lake district we drove, having decided not to take the boat trip offered by most tour agencies for the knockdown price of US$300, although I’m sure it would have been lovely, boating across the lakes, we chose the more economical way of bussing it between them. We figured if we took the bus we could see them just as well through the windows. Besides, the boat trip took two days at this time of year from Bariloche boating across Lago Nahuel Huapi, Lago Fris and Lago Todos Los Santos always with the impressive Osorno Volcano looming to the left. We got the same views, and less of the sea sickness.

The border formalities were loads easier than arriving from the Bolivian side, I guess they grow less cocaine here, also the fact that we were’nt trying to smuggle psychotropic substances through might have made a difference to our state of relaxation. Within a few hours we were in Chile one again and possibly for the last time. A relatively affluent country, there was little difference this time in the state of the roads or buildings we sped past on the way.

After a few hours we arrived in Puerto Montt, Chile is a funny place, a bazillion miles from top to bottom, a stones throw from East to West. At any point in the country you can be back in Argentina on a quick bus, to get to the other end of the coutry you’re in though might take days.

The bus station from Hell.
The bus station itself was a dump, as usual in the dodgiest end of town. Puerto Montt's main industries have taken a bit of a hammering of late and there is big unemployment and corruption, so the dodgy end of town is very dodgy. Alternately guarding the bags Amanda and I took turns to wander around the bus and tour companies looking for a tour to what we’d heard was the magical island of Chiloe, and trying to book the bus out of here afterwards. Eventually we managed to do both. When I returned from my final fact finding mission however something was wrong. Amanda was sat, as she does, guarding the bags, her rucksack, mine, her daysack and another bag containing all our thermal understuff… As we loaded up I felt a particular lightness where my day sack should have been. Some sticky fingered, thieving scumbag had walked away with it. Obviously he/she must have sat near them, then waited for a moment when whoever was guarding them turned their heads and moved in. Quite daring really with everyone else milling about in the station. Of course I went around to speak to people nearby. Of course no one saw anything. I ran outside, up and down the road, checking everybody out, looking for my bag… without it we wouldn’t even be able to clean our teeth that night.

I'd rather take Disneyland.
All this time in South America and Central America. All those places dodgy enough to make Puerto Montt look like Disneyland and, within our last two weeks on the continent we get robbed. Maybe we let our guard down a little too early. We’d had a couple of close calls, in Ecuador, where I actually caught the buggers before they managed to get away, and in Bolivia where Amanda, super sleuth, solved the case of the missing ring. This was it though. This was us being robbed. Thinking about all the people who we’d met who’d had their whole rucksacks nicked, been swindled out of their cameras and MP3 players or held up and beaten up by desperate men I suppose we’d been lucky to only lose what relatively unimportant things that had got nicked, rechargers, wires, toothbrushes, cd’s (that, thank God we turned out to have copies of) and some spare glasses when I am planning to have laser eye surgery in Oz anyway.

Obviously Amanda didn’t look at it like that. I had to literally half carry her to our hotel, then go back and book the Chiloe tour and bus tickets alone. She was distraught. Tears one minute, anger the next. It’s the impotence that hurts most I think, not necessarily the violation, they didn’t break into our house and rifle through our undies, just took something that is ours, and there is nothing we can do about it. Your mind turns to what ifs, what if I’d turn around, what if I’d kept my hands on the bags… My mind specifically turned to what I would do to the scumbag if I ever caught him, I found myself walking down the street on the way to the police station looking for people with my bag on their bag. Could it have been him, could it have been her. It really plays with your head when it happens. The police were really nice, sorry it happened and all that. I asked him if this happened a lot, apparently they get about about 100 tourists a day robbed in peak season. Yes, ONE HUNDRED EVERY DAY. This was a small town, no wonder they’d finally managed to get away with one of our bags, they have their trade honed to a fine art.

We filled out the requisite forms (and are still, 6 months later waiting for a glimmer of hope from our not so quick insurance agency STA) and went off to the local mall for some shopping therapy. A big beastie hot dog or two made me feel a little better. I don’t see myself letting my guard down again in a hurry though. Amanda was completely paranoid for weeks afterwards, I have a chain that goes around all the bags now whenever we sit down long enough to be noticed. What a world eh…

Attempting to remove the worm.
Somewhere in Bolivia I think, probably in the heart of the damp, green Amazon, something bad happened to me. I don’t have a clue what it was, maybe a canny, hungry six legged beastie, maybe a rusty nail, who knows? Whatever it was I got to Bariloche sporting a nasty bump on my side. It was purple and an angry red, and it was growing. In order not to panic unduly, I booked an appointment with a doctor at a private clinic in town. For good measure Amanda booked in too to check up on her ulcer. The pills we got from Nicaragua lessened the problem for her but hadn’t gotten rid of it. We were afraid it might be one of those bacterial ulcers that just keep coming back again and again, she was due a blood test after our snowboarding and I was due a dose of insect repellent.

So Thats what a snow board looks like!

We were planning to leave the slopes a little earlier than on our ski day for the removal of my worm, we would also avoid the annoying queues on the way home. We could be forgiven then for wanting to get straight into it as soon as we arrived. The day started out well. There were far less students there on our return trip. We managed to get organised and up the mountain a good half an hour quicker than the previous day. The queue for boots and board was correspondingly smaller too. Fully laden we waited outside, feet like blocks of ice, hands clenched in the cold, looking expectantly for our instructor.

Time passed and passed……
It appeared that he was still at the bottom, with no knowledge of our lesson, we seemed to be the only ones booked in for snowboarding that day and no-body had bothered to tell him. Amanda went quickly into Spanish expletive mode whilst I urgently told the other instructors our position, namely that we had very little time and didn’t appreciate having nothing to do with it. He stared back through his designer wrapround shades impassively, what expression I could see said “yeah… what do you want me to do about it?” Being too cool for school didn’t impress me too much, Amanda boosted into overdrive and it turned a little ugly. Eventually we got hold of a guy with a radio and managed to contact our instructor who, an hour and a half late, rushed up full of apologies for our situation, which as it turned out was none of his fault.

Our first ever snowboarding lesson.



Getting straight into it we spent very little time on the less than baby slope, conscious as he was of our encroaching deadlines. Before we knew it we’d zipped through the formalities, “this is your board, there are many like it but this one is mine…” and started to hurtle uncontrollably downhill. I loved it, getting the hang of the main skill, not falling on your arse, quite quickly. Amanda got a little stuck at the getting off your arse in the first place stage and had to be helped up to the vertical every time she wanted to go. After a couple of hairy moments I started to feel comfortable, able to go all the way down our slope without falling over, more importantly I could also get back up on the death-trap ski-lift beast. Amanda however was having less fun. After our time was up, our instructor told us we were ready to go out on our own, wiping a proud tear from his eye, and Amanda went back to the equipment shed to swap her board for a pair of skis.

Exhausted, we sat on a comfy lump of snow to eat the sandwiches that I had fallen on fifteen times that day. They still tasted alright. As our time ran out we got in that one last run, Amanda looking like she was born with skis on (ouch!), and me, trying to look cool. As we joined the much smaller queue for the way down we took in the views all around us, the lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun, the white haired old mountains and the skiers zipping around underneath us. This was definitely the life. I don’t know if Amanda wants to go skiing again, I certainly want to try out my snowboarding legs at some time.

Like a duck to water



Off to the doctors.
We reached the bus stop all too quickly and started out towards home. I had time for a quick wash, then rushed out for the doctors, who diagnosed me with a local infection, nothing to worry about, take this antibiotic cream and everything will be ok. Amanda found out that her ulcer is caused by factors other than bacteria, which I think is good, though I’m not sure.

That cheese thing.
Feeling much better about my ever expanding egg, we went out that night, first for a couple of beers with some of the many people we met in our funky hostel, then to a restaurant. Not just any restaurant mind you, this night we were after the food Bariloche is second famous for (after chocolate)… FONDUE!!!

Every time we went walking through town, looking for chocolate, ski wear, new batteries or just looking (but mostly for chocolate) we’d pass these expensive looking restaurants selling fondue s their main attraction. I’d never partaken of a gooey cheese dip dinner before and quite frankly didn’t see what all the fuss could possibly be all about. Amanda on the other hand was keen to do as the locals do. So, as a reward for all our hard skiing, and to make us both feel better about being cripplingly ill because of our travels, we went and found our restaurant. Very posh it was, so we ordered loads of local wine, and a big bowl of cheese with dips. I was literally expecting a load of melted cheese, I wasn’t prepared for what came. Plates of veggies, bread and stuff, all around this beautiful cheese and wine type sauce… Not cheese on its own after all. You learn something new every day. It was lovely; definitely something I’d do again. Though, next time I might have the chocolate one.

Don’t Cry for me Argentina.
Sadly, we had to say goodbye to Argentina the following morning. I love Argentina, the places you can go there are incredible, some of the most stunning scenery in the world, and some of the nicest people. Definitely somewhere to go back to one day.

Loaded up with stuff for Australia, huge boxes of chocolate, Amanda’s cumulative shopping sprees, arctic weather thermal gear and beach wear alike, we sadly headed off to our last bus station of Argentina and sat, despondently on our bags. Through the beautiful forests of the Torres Del Paige, our next stop was our final country, Chile, yet again. We’d made it this far… what could possible go wrong with only a couple of weeks to go?

Masters of the slope?!?