the consumption consumes you

I'm back!!!

Aye it has been a long time, now its time to begin blogging again it would seem. No pressure now I am just going to fill this with "eoghainscrap" Much more fun. I photographed this today.

Lago Titicaca and Copacabana pictures

The shores of Lago Titicaca and Copacabana

It felt pretty good to be leaving La Paz and heading to the country, La Paz had kept Kirk and I safe in her bosom for 2 weeks now and for that we were most grateful, however it was now time to move onto fresh pastures and new adventures. So onwards friends to Copacabana & Lago Titicaca.
The day started early from La Paz with a long bus journey, well I say long but I was later to realise that there were lengthier bus trips ahead, this particular one was about 6 hours from recollection. Within 2 hours of being on the road, Bang! Our first flat tyre, which I shall be honest, was welcome, it was a beautiful sunny day and I was in need of a leg stretch and of course a smoke. Met an unfortunate English guy whom had lost his entire luggage on a connecting flight and was told that there was little chance of him retrieving anything. I felt sympathy for him but relieved that my own brief encounter with lost luggage had been nothing to whinge about. Nae luck!
The bus pulled up to a very small ferry port with spectacular views across Lago Titicaca. The somewhat small wooden ferry with an outboard motor took the task of carrying our bus whilst we took a separate smaller motorboat. Up until relatively recently the gringo passengers would stay on the bus and cross onboard the ferry, this was soon seen as to dangerous after a boat sank taking the lives of a number of tourists with it. As can be seen from a photograph that Kirk had taken, the tourist bus before us had a near miss.
Copacabana was a beautiful wee toon on the shores of Lago Titicaca with a small community that seemed to flourish on tourism both from Bolivian La Pazonians and gringos. Kirk and I checked into our hotel which was situated up a hill looking over both the town and the lake, perfect and at only eight bucks a night we weren’t complaining at all. After getting some lunch in we felt the urge for our first evening to get a boat, fishing rods and attempting to make a catch. Uno problemo, no boat, no rods, fit can ye de? Well we took a wee gander down the beach and within 5 minutes a group of fine Bolivian gents offered us a boat, rods and bait to take out on the lake for a couple of hours, who’d have thought it eh. So after a short row out where we were over taken time and time again by an old lady and her grandson who were out laying nets, weaving back and forth around us the old wifey’s stood up rowing technique was flawless whilst the youngster spread the nets into the water. Unlike us strapping Scotsmen whom were moving at ridiculously slow pace in comparison. They are tough folk out here that is for sure (although very small), I thought of Aunty Jessie paddling away when I saw the old lady who must have been at least seventy odd, not quite105 though ;)). We cast our only rod and one line for the next two hours without even a bite from the deep but that didn’t seem to matter as we experienced a beautiful sunset and the sound of thunder followed by lightening on the Titicaca horizon. Bloody hell this lake is big.
Lake Titicaca lies in the Andes Mountains on the Bolivian Altiplano between the eastern and western cordillera, it is the highest lake in the world at an altitude of 12,506 feet (3810m).
Pre-Columbian culture occupied the shores of the lake from about 100 AD to perhaps 1000 AD. Within Tiahuanaco's ruins archaeologists have labelled six architectural complexes, all of which were used for religious ceremonies. The most important structure, the Kalasasaya, is near the center of the site; the Subterranean Temple lies to the east, and the enclosures of Putuni. Laka Kollu, and Q'eri Kala are on the west. The Kalasasaya, a large, enclosed platform, is the site of the famous Gate of the Sun, at the centre of which is a figure wearing a radiating headdress and carrying a staff in each hand. Settled since prehistoric times by Aymara Indians, the shores of the lake remain densely populated. Modern steamboats and traditional reed boats (balsas de totora) connect the lakeside settlements. The Aymara speaking people, called Uros, are famous for their totora reed boats. These boats called balsas are primarily used for fishing. These boats were sometimes affixed with sails, also made from reeds. The use of these boats today has now become obsolete, and are only used as a tourist attraction. (oh isn’t the internet great for lifting a history lesson)
The following morning Kirk and I went to the local market and bought some steaks, sausages, bread plus other bits and bobs with the intension of camping out on the Isle de la Sol and cooking on an open fire. The boat trip to Isle de Sol was great and coming in to the relatively small island was a spectacular site indeed at around four o’clock.
After climbing the really steep steps up the hill from the beach we found a range of hostels on offer and it didn’t take long to decide on that rather than camping with no tent. It seems the Lake has a thunder, lightning and rainstorm every night here. Wise decision not to camp in hindsight.
It didn’t take much persuading to have Zoe & Joel (I think that was there names,,,Kirk?) join us for a barbecue on the beech. An English couple from London area that had been travelling for a while now and were dead sound. No joke, we all agreed the steaks etc on the fire we cooked was one of the best meals had since away, amazing. Indiana Kirk fashioned a wonderful grill from a retaining gabion wall mesh nearby and there was much rejoicing. Steaks, bottle of wine and a glorious sunset / moonrise what more can you ask for (ok maybe the boss playing ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’ round the campfire would have been nice.)
Sure enough it pissed down lamas and guinea pigs that night and we were stoked not to be sleeping out rough. So after some breakfast we set off round the island in search of the infamous cities of gold!!! Shite no that’s actually a cartoon set in South America I used to watch as a youngster, remember? The golden condor and alike, no, ok never mind.
Anyhoo, within ten minutes we had a fellow companion for the day, an island dog we named Senor Shep who was to be our guide and stray dog guardian.
It took us approximately 6 hours to walk round most of the island seeing excellent views on the way including a local football game, that it has to be said matched the standard of Banchory Boys club under 11’s magic.
On the return route school had obviously finished and the kids took great delight in running uphill past these two pale, non-acclimatised Scots struggling there way up. Well something I haven’t mentioned yet, Kirk was actually paler than most. After spending the last three years in Antarctica it was to be expected, however he got badly burned in Coroico and lost most of his neck, shoulder and back skin. Many times a day I would hear from Kirk “oohyah,,,,Keeper!” Aghhh, I still have nightmares as he kept them in his wee keeper box, or on occasion it sounded like Kirk was sleeping on a bed of ‘Special K’ corn flakes at night (Lol, sorry Kirk, comment at will ☺).
After the trek we made it successfully back to the port on time for the four o’clock boat back to Copacabana for the night which turned into two. To nice a place to leave prematurely it must be said, besides we had a shandy or two that night. Surely not I hear you say!

Coming next......

How this happened on the way to Cusco......

Coroico and death road foteeees!

THE DEATH ROAD TO COROICO......

The second weekend in Bolivian Kirk and I decided to sign up for “The Death Road” Mountain Madness bike tour to Coroico. Hailed as on of the most dangerous roads in the world that has claimed over 7000 lives. We’d be alright.
After a 2 hour bus journey to the starting pass “La Cumbre” where you begin at 4640m we mounted our full suspension steeds for the day, they weighed and looked more like motor bikes to be honest, more than a years wage for many a Bolivian I believe.
The start of the day was on asphalt where you were absolutely fleein down at top speeds with the odd gruesome uphill. After an hour and a half we hit the old road where the brown trousers came on and the fun would really start. 3 months prior to our arrival this dust track road was the main thoroughfare for all traffic going from Coroico to La Paz. Scary really, I mean trucks, cars, vans, buses, trikes, bikes, donkeys, lamas, people, the lot, all using this road hardly wide enough for a truck. Needles to say most of the lives claimed over the years were in majority from buses or trucks acting as buses laden full of people and in some cases the driver having had cerveza to many. The whole road is littered with many crosses and plaques to commemorate the poor victims. Seriously there is no way I’d get a bus up or down this road even now without all the other traffic.
The decent had some of the most incredible panoramic views I’ve seen to date with 300m drops at parts and waterfalls crashing onto the path giving a refreshing shower to speed through. Our main guide who led the group was a bit of a cocky guy from Nottingham and to be honest although annoying with his crappy jokes and loud voice he turned out to be a good guide who got us all safely down.
The majority of the trail was downhill from freezing conditions at the start to tropical burning sunshine at the finish, we all deserved a cold beer for surviving the death road. Lucky for us the Esmerelda hotel greeted us all with open arms, beers, buffet lunch, swimming pool and sauna. Agh well I think we may have to spend a couple of nights here then, especially for $10 a night including all food.
After meeting some other fine folk at the hotel Kirk, Morrisio (the son from Kirks La Paz family) and I went out to disco in Coroico. A small town maybe a bit smaller than Banchory, we ended up being invited to a local Birthday Party in a closed down club, oh yes and then of course feet o flames Fiddes got the Salsa Celtica moves out. Well something like that anyway. That night Kirk peed on the hotel room floor, you can take the man out of Antarctica eh, in his defence it may have been a delayed reaction to the fear experienced that day.

This is what happens......

if you happen to be an Inca King and the Spanish arrive. They cut off your tongue in front of your family, then pull your limbs off with a horse. If that doesn't work they cut them off then post them to the 4 corners of SA. Bit like Wallace really. This photo depicts King Mel Gibson in his forthcoming movie 'BraveInca'.

One night I ate this meatfest in La Paz.........

the next day I was on the pan all day. It was worth it!

Bolivia, La Paz and reunion.

I arrived in La Paz at 7:30, drank a shed load of water on the flight to minimise the effects of altitude sickness following wise words from Indiana Watson. I had a feeling it was going to hit me bad because of flying from sea level to La Paz 4600m, with no time to acclimatize. No dizzy spells or immediate vomiting on leaving the aircraft so high hopes so far. Through customs with no hassle what so ever, immigration officer was a complete gentleman, bienvenida Bolivia, I give you a month visa ok, excellent muchos gracias senor.
Baggage claim carrousel numero uno, dum de dum de dum, I was pretty late on the flight so expected my bag out first. People waiting 80, 60, 50 , 40, mmmm, ant time now bags going to pop up, 30, 20 come on bag don’t let me down now, 15, 10 5, agh shite this doesn’t look good. 4, 3, no more bags popping out. A wee look down the belt tunnel, oh right the belts stopped. Shergar McShazbat!! Was really only a matter of time. So on speaking to American Airlines rep it turns out my bags are still in Miami, great they shall serve me well there. Ok, well, onto second customs now where you have to press a button that measures your pulse, if your pulse is high then the alarm goes off, fair enough. This of course pretty much means any gringo arriving at altitude, needless to say that and losing my bags my pulse sent the alarm off. The officer gave me a smile and motioned to go through, I think he realised I was a wee bit miffed about the bags and took pity on me. Fine chappy, gracias.
Through the gates and I spy a Bolivian taxi driver holding a placard saying “Fit like min Fiddes!” very odd, wow they speak Doric in La Paz amazing. Wahae! Kirk appears with bullwhip and Indy hat, Fit like en. Great to see a familiar face especially one that has been hanging with penguins in the Antarctic for 2.5 years and of course that I have no bloody idea where I was going from here. It was a relief to see that Kirk had not developed any serious signs of hibernation sickness in the S.P, I soon got used to the involuntary twitches and dawdling speech impediment. “Wahae! North East boys we are here, dum de dad a dum de da! And so on. Funny really within a few minutes it was as if we had seen each other last week.
Altitude sickness zero, Fiddes uno.
Kirk had us booked into a fine hostel in the centre of La Paz which was great but of course it was a bit steep for us Aberdonians, approximately £1.83 a night, for goodness sake eh! Agh well I suppose I can fork that out for 2 nights. Checked in then onto a restaurant at the top of a big tower block looking over La Paz, amazing view. Bueno Panorama. Again was pretty steep at £2.00 each including beers.
More water, alto sickness zero Fiddes dos!
Kirk had somehow heard about another youth hostel opening night, oh aye and it was St Patricks day after all so why not, I wasn’t tired and had been a long time since catching up with many stories to share.
How is this for a good idea the hostel was owned by 3 Irish guys and 1 Israeli, they all jointly own 1 in La Paz, 1 in Cusco and 1 in Lima. They take turns in running the 3 and usually one of them gets to travel about. Brilliant. Place in La Paz although still a building site was amazing, Spanish Colonial building with huge atrium and incredible cornicing, oak woodwork etc. What potential.
Harry Fiddes and son do South America, what do you reckon Dad? “Papa Fiddes es hijo, construccion, disenor et urbanizacion” I believe it has a certain ring to it.
Bag turns up after 2 days, just in time to move into Families house with fresh clothes,phew!
Still no signs of altitude sickness, 3 nil.

Me, Rene (Bolivian padre & Cicillia elles nino)













Kirks Bolivian family and American Nancy who also stayed there. Nancy was one of the daftest folk I have ever met, the family were lovely.











The following 2 weeks in La Paz were incredible. My Bolivian family that I stayed with Rene, Miriam and there 3 year old chica Ciccillia were so warm and of course patient with my pigeon Spanish. On arrival they made me feel so welcome in their traditional colonial house situated close to the infamous San Pedro prison (where with a little balls and ingenuity it is possible to get a guided tour of the prison by an inmate). Rene and Miriam’s house gave me my own private room with desk, couch, TV and all the mod cons. Use of the shower was precarious at times as it did share some similarities to M.Latif electrical wiring, big lever to pull with wet hands giving off a few sparks on entering and leaving the shower, ok then, I shall wear rubber veruca socks from now on.
Cicillia took great pleasure in taking the piss out of my rubbish Spanish over the 2 week stay, however I managed to impress her one day with my doodling skills over a game of magma doodle using pens & crayons. In fact the taunting became too much and I became very competitive in that game snatching crayons, spitting the dummy out and alike.
Every day I would get up at 7 and have a hearty breakfast with the family before going to school with my pack lunch. William was my Spanish teacher where I would get 3 hours private tuition then the last hour with Kirk. William was an excellent tutor albeit a bit of a stickler on the grammar. Before I came Kirk had paid for his lessons upfront and William had come in the next day pished as a fart, I made sure not to make the same error.
Most of the week days really were taken up with studying with cultural visits in the afternoon and early evening, ok a couple of jars were of course had some nights. La Paz was a really bussling city with incredibly helpful, honest and friendly people. I think tourism is still catching up in Bolivia and that for me somehow really adds to the appeal, the hassle factor from folk really was non existant, if the locals were chatting with you it was generally out of interest and not to scam or sell you something.
The altitude really does make a huge difference to you there, I made the mistake of playing football with Kirk and a bunch of Bolivians after only being there 3 days, My goodness me I thought a lung was going to fall out. Even the shortest flight of steps and you’ll be gasping for breath, makes you appreciate how fit these folk must be. Wait untill you hear about the porters on the Inca Trail though, they are strong fit folk I tell ye.


En route to school from my home.

Big Ass Cigars in Miami, Hannibal Style.