Volunteering at Pagna Language School, Lvea Village

Background...

Pagna

Pagna was born in Lvea village and grew up in a poor rural family with 10 brothers and sisters. From an early age he worked hard to pay for his education and spent three years living as a Buddhist monk, during which time he learned basic English. Once married, Pagna moved to his wife's village, Kampong Phluk and was saddened upon seeing the young children fishing on the lake from dawn til dusk. Children in rural Cambodia rarely gain more than a primary school education as they have to fish and farm to support their families. Wanting to help the children to have a better life than himself, Pagna founded Pagna Language School, where he teaches free English classes to the local children.

Once word got around that Pagna was teaching English to the children in Kampong Phluk, the villagers from his home, Lvea, started asking him to teach English in their village too. With the help from his friends, Pagna raised enough money to build a school in Lvea; and one month after it's completion, the school received its first foreign volunteer teachers: Me and Ric!

The School...
A single layer of roughly cemented bricks, a chain-link fence and a corrugated steel roof make up the 5x10m classroom of the school in Lvea. The earth around the school in uneven and prone to flooding, there is no bathroom and no safe drinking water for the children to drink after they cycle to the school from their homes. Inside, the desks, donated by the local state school, are made from planks of wood and bamboo. The school is a work in progress; thanks to generous donations the roof was completed and a solar panel was installed whilst we were at the school. A well is being constructed and soon the children will have drinking water.

The school. The uneven land floods often.

Digging of the well started while we were at the school. With our donation Pagna will buy a water filter and the school will have safe drinking water.

The Children...
Every class at the school was full, often with three children squeezing in together on the narrow wooden planks that serve as chairs, writing with pea-sized pieces of chalk on ancient chalk boards. When we first arrived they stared at us, faces expressionless: for many it was the first time they'd seen a westerner, let alone be taught by one. As each day passed, however, they warmed to us and beamed at us with pure happiness in their smiles. The daytime classes were beginner level; learning the alphabet and simple phrases, the children were aged from around 5 to 14 years old. There was one evening class for older children and some adults, they were somewhat more advanced and once they overcame their shyness they really impressed us with their English. 

With one of the morning classes.

Learning the alphabet and some new vocabulary.

The Teaching...
Despite being thrown completely in the deep end from day one, and having to teach with neither a minute to prepare nor any books to work with, Ric and I rose to the challenge and threw ourselves into the teaching. It was the first time we've ever taught in tandem and I'm proud to say that we did a pretty damn good job; any couple ever in need of communication therapy should try teaching an improvised lesson together! For me it made me realise how much I enjoy and miss teaching; it brought back memories of Korea and has fueled my desire to teach again in the near future. After the first day it became clear that school is seriously lacking resources and inspiration; Pagna has never had any formal teacher training and is working without a salary. With this in mind, Ric and I set about designing something resembling a curriculum, we worked on vocab lists and lesson plans whenever we weren't teaching. By the end of our stay we handed Pagna a respectable amount of lesson plans which hopefully he will be confident enough to use in the future.

The Homestay...
Pagna had arranged for us to stay with a local family in the village, as there aren't any guest houses or hotels in the area. It turned out to be an incredible experience and one we'll cherish for a long time. We stayed with a local man named Wanah, a bachelor and an important figure in the community. Wanah is the director of the local state school, he also owns the village hall where local marriages take place, and which was to be our home for the week. While he slept on a platform behind the hall, Ric and I had the entire top floor of the hall-come-barn to ourselves. Wanah is possibly one of the nicest people I have ever met; even though he doesn't speak any English he managed to make us feel like part of his family; his nickname is 'Smile' and it's well deserved, his beaming grin could cheer me up even on the worst of days. It seemed that Wanah was a central point in the community; people would turn up to charge their phones (as he had electricty), people gathered to chatter on his platform home, the children would meet up and play in the garden, people came by to sell their wares; and of course, a fair few number of villagers came over to have a nosy at us! There were four boys living with Wanah, aged from 6 to 18. We found out that the boys were orphaned by parents either unable or unwilling to take care of them, and that Wahan had taken them in and was supporting them to get an education. His generosity and benevolence was inspiring. Wanah  was also an amazing cook! We went to the village expecting to eat a simple diet of rice and little else, and were blown away by the delicious stir-fries and flavoursome soups prepared for us three times a day. We both gained weight during our time in Lvea thanks to Wanah's huge portions of tasty food, and our inability to move very far in the stifling heat. 

Wanah and the boys.

Two of the boys having a sneaky peak at us through a trap door in the hall.

Where Wanah and the four boys slept and ate. Wanah is in the background cooking up a storm on the wood fire.

Village hall, wedding venue, home for visiting foreigners. On the right side of the house you can see the urns that collect rain water.

Our beds inside the hall.

Village Life...
Lvea village is truly a beautiful place; rice paddies as far a the eye can see, farmers ploughing their land with traditional ox-pulled ploughs, raised homes made from palm leaves and bamboo. The conditions in the village were very basic; there was no running water, only rain water collected in vast urns, and water from the well that had to be boiled before drinking. The toilet was a squatter with a bucket of water and our beds were reed mats on a wooden bed frame. There was electricity in the village but only in rudimentary form; a naked bulb hanging from a lone wire. That said, it really wasn't so bad, the biggest problem for me and Ric was the heat. With no air conditioning and no fan, we were constantly drained from the hot, stuffy atmosphere. After six days everyone in the village knew us, they'd stare, wave and say hello and they cycled past us. We only saw two cars during the six days we spent there. It does however, have its downside; we were awoken at 5am every morning by a chorus of cockerels, geese, pigs, cows and dogs! We'd stumble sleepily onto the veranda at 6am to find that the rest of the village had already been up for several hours; men were busy ploughing their fields, the children were already out herding the cows and the ever-wonderful Wanah had cooked breakfast for us and boiled water for us to drink. It amazed me how the children would be up working in the fields at the crack of dawn, go to school all day and then return to work again once school was finished. Then there was me, too hot to even go for an afternoon stroll without passing out and getting dehydrated, while children as young as 5 were out working and studying 12 hours a day. I felt shamefully lazy by comparison. Another thing I noticed was that young children were frequently left alone, sometimes in charge of even younger children. In the village it's quite normal for parents to leave young babies in the care of their 6 or 7 year old children for the day while they go out to work in the fields.

One of our students getting water from the well outside her house.

A typical house in Lvea village.

Land is intentionally flooded from the stream and the water used for irrigating crops.... and for boat races!

Local children come to say hello.

Returning from the fields at 5am.

Houses made from woven palm leaves.

Rush hour.

Our Donation...

Thanks to generous donations from our friends and family, at very short notice, Ric and I were able to raise $320 for the school. We spent $20 on paper, pencils, chalk and basic stationary provisions for the school, as well as a couple of soft balls that the children loved playing with. The remaining $300 will buy a water filter for the well and will pay for the uneven land to be filled in around the school, so the children and teachers will no longer have to wade through a moat to get to class! Thank you to all that donated.

If you would like to find out more about the school or make a donation please visit the website: 

http://pagnalanguageschool.org/ 

If you are interested in volunteering at the school please contact Pagna or Lisa:

pagna@pagnalanguageschool.org

lisa@pagnalanguageschool.org

+855077709192

My Afternoon as a Miner

Today, I went down an active silver mine with a bunch of pissed Bolivian miners.

I didn't really want to go, I didn't like the idea of crawling down small dangerous holes and takin pictures of miners working in appauling conditions as if they were animals in a zoo. In reality it was just as unpleasant as Id imagined; It was dark, dusty and the tunnels were small enough that we had to crawl on our hands and knees. It felt horrible going down there as tourists and watching men and boys working in such a dangerous environment.

However, I'm glad I decided to do it because I learnt a lot and it was really eye opening to see the mines first hand.

We visited the refinery where the silver is produced - its a rickety old shed with dangerous chemicals everywhere and no safety measures. And then we went into the mine.

The mines are on a mountain named Cerro Rico (rich mountain), and it was discovered by a shepherd during the Spanish colonisation. The miners are as young as 7 and the oldest is 62 although they say once you start working in the mines you will die within 10-20 years because of all the chemicals and dust you inhale. Most of the men work 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. They earn on average 150 bolivianos per day, depending on how much siliver they extract. This is about £15 a day, which is a lot compare to the minimum wage in Bolivia which is just £2.50 per day.

The miners don't eat whilst they're inside the mine, they just chew coca leaves. They also drink the local alcohol, Ceibo, which is 96% proof and tastes like paint stripper. We saw several miners working and they were clearly drunk.

The mine is spread over many levels, and temperatures on the lower levels can get up to 40 degrees. Another big problem for me at least was the lack of oxygen; we were over 5000m above sea level and even walking slowly made me out of breath. I was also suffering altitude sickness and had been sick in the morning, making the whole experience of crawling through mine shafts even more horrible.

We got to see the miners in action and talk to them, the highlight for me was sitting with one of the guides whilst the rest of the group went on down to a lower level (I didn't want to, I'd had enough). The guy was called Julio and was 26, he'd worked in the mine for 7 years, from the age of 14, until he broke his arm and gave up and became a guide. We told me all about his life and his family, his dreams of going to England and studying computers, and he sang to me in Quechua and in Spanish. He was really nice and friendly (and drunk).

We spent 2 hours down the mine and I was so relieved when we came up again. However the relief was short lived as we emerged to learn that our bus driver had gotten steaming drunk and decided to head off to La Paz, leaving us stranded on the mountain and taking with him all our stuff we'd left on the bus!!

It was getting cold and we had to walk down the mountain until another bus arrived. The whole tour was pretty shoddy, all of the guides were drunk, it felt like they were exploiting the miners and it didn't feel particularly safe or well organised. But it was an interesting experience and probably the only time in my life I'll have the chance to see a silver mine in action.

Ketaman and Friends

I've met some weird and wonderful people on this trip

Introducing...

Ketaman. Ketaman is an American guy who we met in Sucre and who also turned up in Potosí. He's bought 3 bottles of ketamin from a vets in Sucre - its that easy - he just went in, said he had a sick horse and they gave him ketamin!!? I've never seen anybody that fucked up. He cooks his ket up in the hostel kitchen and carries it around with him on a plate. He sort of just staggers around incoherent and red faced, walking like a Thunderbird. Before bed he casually offered around Valium. And he's got a bicycle that he's riding around South America?! Absolute mess.

The Yahs. There are so many Gap Yah kids running around here, it suprised me actually. For those of you that live on Mars and haven't seen the Youtube video, a Gap Yah is an 18 year old middle class kid from London who's here "finding himself" with the privalage of Daddy's credit card. Such as Brough, the guy in Sucre who only stayed in hostels recommended by his Lonely Planet and the 3 girls who couldn't handle their alcohol. They act like theyre on holiday in Newquay or Benidorm. Annoyance really.

I realised that makes me sound old and boring but its true.

Clint. Clint was a guest at the hostel in Samaipata, he was the head of merchandising for Warner Brothers in LA and he was loaded. He was travelling around South America for a year with no upper limit on his budget. He was interesting and the few times I went out with him he always bought a bottle of rum for everyone. Good lad.

Slutty Canadian Girl. She's friends with Ketaman, she just gets messy and sleeps around from what I can tell. I quite like her.

Meaty Swiss Girl. This girl is crackers. Her first words to us were "Do you feel like meat? I feel like Meat!" She has wild eyes and apparently likes meat.

To be continued...

Dinosillysaurus

Sucre has the worlds biggest collection of dinosaur footprints. Went to see them. It was crap.

We had to get on the most cringeworthy gringo bus, a lorry with some benches in it and a plastic dinosaur head stuck of the front, and it took us half an hour up the mountain to 'Parque Cretacico' - the lamest "museum" ever.

We were given a tour by an excellently friendly guide called Juan Carlos, unfortunately his friendliness didn't compensate for the ruubbishness of the tour. We saw replica dinosaur skeletons, replica footprints and rocks claiming to be bones. The actual footprints are on a wall, you see them from about 500m away and they're pretty small.

The best part of the museum was the dinosaur models dotted about the place, they had the most ridiculous expressions! We amused our self greatly by renaming them, we had the Gormasaurus, the Gayasaurus, the Tortugasaurus, the Floatsaurus... it was all very silly really.

On our way back into town some tourists shouted at us "don't go its shit!" - but it was too late. We had fun though.

Continuing with the silliness, when we got back into town we went to the town hall, I'd heard that you could maybe go inside and get up on the roof. I asked the guard if we were allowed and he said no and didn't even look at me, but then he turned, winked at me and nodded. A second guard inside did pretty much the same thing. Odd. So we went up, got right up to the cupula and even grabbed on to the giant flag that nearly lifted me off the floor. The view was excellent, panoramic view of Sucre.

Then we had lunch at the market, had a little wander and went for another jewellery making lesson. Made a necklace.

After tea we went out and met up with Christan the German lad I sat next to on the bus from Copacabana. Also saw Ferran, a Spanish guy that had been in Samaipata the same time as me. All sat together and got pretty pissed.

Tarabuco

3rd July

Shopping! Me and Ric went to the Sunday markets at Tarabuco, a village 65km out of Sucre. We got the bus at 8.30 and sang along to pop punk on Ric's ipod whilst everyone else on the bus tried to sleep.

The market covered the entire village and had alsorts of random stuff. Between us we bought a fair bit of tat such as: home made cigarettes, 96% alcohol, sandals made out of car tyres, handbags with llamas on, gloves, candy floss and a head band.

We tried on some silly hats, played table football (I lost), had coffee in a posh restaurant that had a sad looking parrot in the courtyard, and went for a mooch around the local hospital to get information about rabies vaccinations for ric.

The village itsself isn't anything special, and the market has become some what of a gringo destination, but regardless it was a pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning.

Skills!

2nd July 2011

Since I've been travelling I've become aware of my lack of what I call "traveller skills". Traveller skills are things that you can do to earn money, or just entertain yourself and others whilst travelling, such as playing guitar.

Well... I've been working on getting myself some skills, and although I haven't learnt to play guitar (yet?) I have acquire some pretty cool "skills", such as making wallets out of juice cartons, ash trays out of beer cans and origami tshirts out of tea bag wrappers (the latter isn't really very useful to be honest.) And today I learnt how to make bracelets!

Yesterday I was mooching about Sucre with Jonathan and we went in this 'artesania' crafts shop selling handmade jewellery. I bought a load of it and noticed they had a sign advertising jewellery making classes. So this morning me Ric and Jonathan went to this guys house and had our first jewellery making class. It was really good actually, we learnt three different ways of braiding thread to make bracelets and got to keep the ones we made, they're well good. The guys name was Xavier and we all just chilled in his living room drinking tea and smoking with him, some hippies and a dog. Then we went to the market and bought more thread and spent the afternoon in the plaza drinking yet more tea and making yet more bracelets. It was a rather nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Sucre

So we eventually made it to Sucre, the constitutional capital of Bolivia. It's really nice, lots of grand colonial buildings. We're staying in 'Amigos Hostel', which is pretty cool, comfy beds, hot showers, kitchen we can use, and the most hostile unfriendly staff I have ever encountered. I'm in an 8 bed dorm, which I don't think has been cleaned since the 90's, its tiny and the floor is carpeted with rubbish. I like it.

There's a really cool black market, that sells everything imaginable, and there are some nice shops. The plaza is really nice too.

Its really nice to be back in a city after being in the middle of nowhere for so long AND to make things even better my pal Ric who I volunteered with in Arequipa has come and met me here and we're going to travel together for a bit. I've also seen a bunch of people here that were in La Paz in the same hostel as me. Its so funny I keep bumping into people I know; massive continent, very well traveled gringo route!

Samaipata to Sucre.... EPIC

American Jonathan and I decided to hitch hike the 400 miles between Samaipata and Sucre... simply because it sounded like a good adventure. And oh my days was it! It took us 3 days, 7 vehicles and a hell of a lot of walking!

We set off at 6am, Monday, under the cover of darkness, escaping from Andoriña and the crazy Dutch man. I´d told them I was leaving but Jonathan was literally doing a runner. We left notes and stole some fruit for the trip.

As the sun rose we got picked up by our first lift. Fili, a taxi driver from Mairana. He didnt seem too bothered that we werent planning to pay. He picked us up at the toll station on the outskirts of Samaipata and took us 15km away to Mairana. We then walked a fair way before finally getting picked up by another car which was full of people - so naturally we squeezed into the boot.

Car number 2 took us to a little village called Hierba Buena, where we stood about for a while and a lorry driver gave us a sermon on religion... we were keen to get away from him. Pretty much as soon as we set off walking we were picked up by a white flat bed truck, we sat on the back and got blown about a bit. They took us really far, to Comarapa.

We got to Comarapa by about 12 and stopped and had tea and biscuits sat on a rock by the side of the road, ever so English! Jonathan was pretending to be English too because he didnt want to get kidnapped or shot.

So from Comarapa we saw our last bit of pathed road and we set off walking along a bumpy dusty path. The landscape gradually changed from fields to desert, more and more cacti were appearing, and then we got picked up by a man in a jeep who took us to the next village 30km away - Saipina. He was a very nice man, dead friendly.

Saipina´s a nice little place, we had lunch in the square (bread and tomatoes) and a lady gave us each a piece of sugar cane to munch on. By the time we set off walking again it was really hot and we stripped off our layers as he headed down yet another dusty desert lane! From Saipina to the next village it was 100km, and I think we both underestimated how difficult it would be to get from one town to the next.

Basically, we walked for hours, hardly any cars went past and those that did rarely stopped. We we in the middle of nowhere. There was a river running through the valley between the mountains and stopped off and went for a swim. It was lush. In the middle of the Andes swimming in a river that had its source like a couple of miles away. Was nice to cool off.

One passing car gave us a lift about 5km but mostly we just walked for about 5 hours, in the sun, with our massive back packs on, it was tough. Eventually as it started to get dark we gave up and made camp by the side of the road. I slept like a baby, regardless of the pile of rocks underneath me and the cactus poking me in the arse through the side of the tent.

The next day we set off again, walking through the nothingness, and we started to ration our food and water because we were getting seriously worried we were going to be there forever. Some guys picked us up and took us for about 10km further along the road, they felt so sorry for us that they gave us some bread - you know youre in a bad way when youre accepting charity from Bolivian farmers who live in mud huts...

Finally, after 3 hours walking, we were picked up by a lorry that was going all the way to Sucre! We were so happy. Little did we know we´d managed to hitch the most useless truck in the whole of Bolivia.

We were sat in the back of the truck, with a hundreds of boxes of floor tiles, some sugar cane, and a big tyre and all was going well, we were getting some sun, making good progress but then we ran out of petrol. We had to wait in the lorry for 2 hours whilst the driver took a bus to the next town and got petrol. Whilst we waited we chatted to the co-driver of the lorry, it was funny he was asking us about England: "Do you have cows?", "Do you have sheep?", "Do you have trees?"...

That was just the beginning though. The damn thing ran out of petrol another 4 times!!! A journey that should have taken 8 hours took 24. 24 hours sat on some boxes of tiles. We even had to sleep there and it was bloody freezing!

Anyway, EVENTUALLY we made it to Sucre at about 10am two days after we set off.

It was a tough, but amazing trip.

Coca

Coca leaves and grown and produced here in Bolivia and also in Peru. Theyre used to make cocaine but also have more legal qualities:

Pretty much all of the native people here chew coca leaves. They put a big handfull into one side of their mouths and chew it, releasing its medicinal properties. They also use "catalysts" such as bicarbonate of soda or this weird spongey mass made from the ash of burnt cactus and potatoe (?!). The result is like a tiny tiny bit of cocaine, it numbs your mouth and throat and gives you energy. It is also used to cure altitude sickness and to help digestion.

The first time I tried it I just chewed it like normal food, and it was horrible, I was picking leaves out of my teeth for hours. Once Id learnt the technique I experienced the real effects of the leaves, my mouth went numb, it woke me up a bit, but the taste is really horrible. I like the numb mouth feeling but the problem is that you get bits of leaves everywhere but you cant tell because its all numb.

Its basically a way of live here, people walk around looking like hamsters because their cheeks are so full of coca, but I dont think i'll be doing it again.

Laguna Volcanes Tour

24th June

I did a trek today to Laguna Volcanes. There are no volcanoes there, but the mountains are cones shaped, and look like volcanoes.

Eight of us went: 4 men from Spain, 2 American girls who are staying in the hostel, Southern gentleman Jonathan, and myself. We went with Carmelo, the same guy who lent us his motorbike.

We drove an hour and a half to a really posh golf resort where we started our tour. On the way there we drove past the skeleton of a horse by the side of the road, there were about 10 vultures surrounding it picking off the remains of its meat. It had only died two days previous yet there was next to nothing left of it. Ive never seen anything like that before.

We began our trek, in the pouring rain, walking to the far side of the golf course and then off the track into the woods where Carmelo pointed out different and interesting plants. There was one that burned your skin if you touched it, and another whose leaves closed up as protection.

We walked up a really steep hill to get a panoramic view of the mountains, the rivers and the village down below, however there was so much cloud you couldnt really see much, just the tip of a mountain or the occasional flash of greenery when the cloud momentarily cleared. It was quite mystical looking. We walked along narrow path across the crest of the mountains before eventually heading down towards the jungle.

Luckily, just as we stopped for lunch, the cloud cleared enough for us to get a good view of the mountains. It was very beautiful and majestic, and they really do look like volcanoes.

The walk down was steep and the vegetation gradually got thicker and thicker until we arrived at the jungle floor. We walked through the jungle some, which was very challenging, the floor was wet and slippy and there was no path, just Carmelo infront of us hacking away with his machete! At one point I stood on a log to cross the river and it was totally decayed, it disintegrated under my weight and I got a wet foot! We also saw a family of monkies jumping through the trees, that was really awesome, Id never seen wild monkies before.

After pulling some Tarzan moves we emerged at the edge of the jungle at a river. We were to cross the river 10 times so we took our shoes and socks off and rolled up our pants. Walking in the river was nice, but the track along the side of the river wasnt so great; it was super slippery because of the rain and it was all ups and downs, meaning we slid about loads and were falling over every ten minutes. Plus the path was covered with little stones and twigs and stuff, so I didnt much enjoy that part of the walk. We had to climb over some pretty huge rocks too and it was really difficult, I fell a couple of times and had to get a hand up from Carmelo (who mysteriously didnt fall once!)

It was a very wet, muddy tour but enjoyable nonetheless. Going into the jungle and seeing the monkies was the best bit.

More about Samaipata and Andoriña Hostel

*There's an animal refuge. I went one day, its about a 20 minute walk from the centre of town and has pigs, parrots, dogs and monkeys. The monkeys roam around freely and randomly climb on you, theyre cool. There was a baby one call Kiki that I fell in love with.

*A "famous" Bolivian singer called Piraí Vaca came to do a concert in Samaipata, and he stayed in MY hostel. He was slightly arrogant although he practiced for his concert all morning in his room and played for us at dinner so we got to listen for free, he's very talented. I didnt go to the concert though, I had to work.

*The hostel owners also have a farm far away in the mountains (where Jonathan works) and I went there one day. Its on the edge of the Cloud Rainforest where giant fern trees go and supposedly has wonderful views. When I went there however it poured with rain and I didnt see a thing. They grow allsorts of fruit and veg there, and its a pretty nice set up, although its pretty basic (ie the toilet is just a cess pit.) I couldnt live there, for one Im no farmer, and I couldnt handle the isolation.

*Everyone at the hostel is really nice apart from Andres, the Dutch owner. He drives me mad and is pretty much the sole reason for my early departure. The way he talks is really patronising and condescending, he has a weird sense of humor and he's absolutely disgusting. He's all into sustainable living and eco shit, which is great, apart from the fact that he leaves decaying food around the hostel and it attracts flys. When we went to the finca he actually scooped up a load of shit from the cess pit and showed it to us saying "look what wonderful fertilizer"! Given that I have to stay in the hostel from 1pm til 8am - yes 19hours a day - I think he gets a buzz over giving me "permission" to go out, for a whole hour at a time sometimes! Ive gotten to the point now where every little thing he does grates on me, even the sound of his voice. I was meant to be here for 6 weeks but I'll be leaving after 2 and a half. And I cant wait!!!

Winter Solstice

20th June

The winter solstice is a very important event for the local people here, they see it as an opportunity to worship the earth and ask for a good harvest. Its also an excuse for a big piss up.

At the site of El Fuerte, that big carved rock I went to, all the local communities get together to hold a big event to celebrate the solstice. The idea is to stay up all night and watch the sunrise in the morning, its said to be a magical and spiritual experience.

There were stalls selling food and drink, a big bonfire and a stage where various speeches were made, bands played and people in traditional dress danced and performed.

We went in a big group from the hostel and decided we would hitch hike there (sorry again Mum!) As we got to the main road there were lots of military vehicles and police preparing to go up to El Fuerte and I, as a joke, asked them if they minded giving us a lift. To my surprise they said they were happy to take us and we all climbed onto the back of a military jeep. One of the soldiers said that me and one of the other girls could sit inside the jeep, which we did, however we were soon to find out the soldiers ulterior motives. Once inside the jeep we were chatted up by the soldiers, who asked for our email addresses and invited us out to dinner the following day! To makes things even weirder they were playing Justin Beeber's album and asking us what the lyrics meant and they had multicoloured neon lights flashing around the stereo. Sitting inside a military vehicle translating Justin Beeber songs is yet another thing I wasnt expecting from my trip to Bolivia! Whatsmore, halfway up the mountain the huge army truck infront of us hit a rock and broke off its front axel, so all the soldiers plus a few dozen civilians all got out of their vehicles and lifted the truck up to move it to the side! It caused a huge tail back and we had to walk the final 1km up the mountain.

When we finally got to the top we pitched a tent and drank our booze; 1.5lt bottles of wine costing 24 bolivianos (just over £2!). We watched the dancing for a while and sat by the fire. There were lots of people there I knew or recognised, its a small town afterall, and I eventually found myself sat on an airplane seat inside a white VW camper van with a bunch of crazy hippies and an old austrian man who offered me every kind of intoxicating substance known to man. The hippies were fun to talk to, your typical spiritual, nature loving happy people who live up in the mountains and were drinking some foul tasting home made alcohol.

The night concluded with me throwing up (too much cheap red wine), passing out in our tent, and missing the sunrise! I hear it was cloudy anyway though so Im not too bothered. I didnt wake up until 10 and missed the locals sacrificing a llama! - Im not too upset about missing that either!

We got a taxi back into town and I spent the majority of the day in bed when I was supposed to be working. Ah well :)

The Motorcycle Diaries

16th - 17th June

If you'd have said to me that one day I would hire a motorbike in Bolivia and follow Che Guevara's final steps along a dirt path through the Andes to the spot where he was assasinated, I would have thought it unlikely. Certainly isnt something I had planned to do. But I did!

Me and Jonathan found a guy in Samaipata willing to lend us his motorbike for a few days for the small price of £30 each. So on Thursday morning around 9am, with our backpack full of camping gear tied to the back of the bike with a piece of rope, we set off into the mountains.

Our destination was La Higuera, the village where Che Guevara was eventually apprehended and killed. The 'Ruta del Che' has recently started to attract tourists but isnt a busy route as its so far out and the road is pretty dangerous.

Our first pit stop was Mairana, the next town after down the road. Its a busy town, seems livelier than Samaipata, and we stopped there for petrol. From there we went to Mataral, a sleepy town where the road splits off South towards Valle Grande. We sat at the crossroads and had an ice cream before getting back on the road again to Valle Grande, 123km away from Samaipata.

Valle Grande is where Che's body was taken and exhibited after he was killed. His remains were kept there for a while before Argentina claimed them. You can visit the spot where his body was kept, its inside an old hospital, but we didnt go.

After Valle Grande there are no more paved roads. On the 2 hour drive to La Higuera the road went from bad to worse, there were huge bumps in the road, rocks to avoid and a sheer drop down the side of the mountain. At first I found the bumps quite fun and exhilarating, but then my knees started to ache and my bum got sore. At one point we stopped off by the side of the road and climbed up a hill for a rest. The views there, and along the whole route we amazing, you go right deep into the Andes, theres just mountain after mountain for as far as you can see. Its totally untravelled terrain too, there we very few villages along the way and hardly no other traffic.

We finally made it to La Higuera at about 5pm, after a loooong drive. La Higuera is a tiny little village with a population of only 50, theyve not even got electricty there.

On the dirt path leading into the village we saw the spot where 3 of Che's guerilla fighters were killed, the same road where Che was shot. He carried on, wounded to La Higuera where he was captured and then killed.

We carried on too, although unharmed, to a corn field where we decided to camp the night. Jonathan, as well as driving all day, also provided and assembled our tent. We set up camp and went back into the village where we met an old lady called Irem, she had lived there all her life, had met Che and was there when he was killed. She invited us into her shop and gave us a bowl of soup each. The soup was disgusting, it had some kind of offal in it which I dont even want to guess where it came from, I fed mine to her dog. Irem also let me look at her house and use her bathroom - interesting! It had no doors, and the floor was carpeted with corn! Corn on the cobs, millions of them all over her floor and there were ducks and chickens randomly sat the amongst it all. Ive really never seen anything like it.

As the sun set we drove back to our camp. Jonathan earned himself yet more man points by making a fire using wood and grass that we found by the side of the road. We heated some water and made tea then attempted to make pancakes! I say attempted because our awesome fire eventually went out before we could cook the pancakes and we resorted to burning some pages from my book and cheated by using some petrol from the bike. The pancakes were, in the end, edible and thus a sucess and we had fun making them.

Sleeping in a corn field isnt the most comfortable experience, and there were a few fairly large rocks underneath us, however it was better than some camping experiences ive had in England, mainly because it wasnt raining and blowing a gale.

In the morning when we woke up there was a little girl sat watching our tent - very creepy! We asked what she wanted and she told us she was waiting for her Dad and that they were going to harvest the corn. We were in her field. She stayed there watching us until we packed up and left.

Back in the village we went into a hostel and got coffee for breakfast. The hostel was called El Telegrafista and had a beautiful courtyard where we drank our coffee in the sun. We spoke to the guy working there, he was from Nantes in France, of all places, and had some very interesting opinions about Che, communism and politics in general (he confirmed my opinion of French people being militant!) It was nice speaking to him.

In La Higuera you can go into the room where Che was killed, its been converted into a shrine-come-museum. We had to go to the owners house and asked her to open up for us, this provided me with another excuse to snoop in her house; its so different to what I consider to be a home. Made out of mud bricks, dirt floors, the toilet a hole in the ground... and this is one of the more well off people from the village. It really made me appreciate what Ive got at home.

The actual "museum" wasnt very impressive, much more of a shrine than anything else but it was good to see. We called in to say goodbye to Irem before heading off again.

Back on the terrible road again we had our first set back - we fell off the bike! Going round a sharp corner we hit wet ground and the wheel slipped. I was terrified of falling off when I first got on the bike but when it happened it was nothing, we were going slow and it was the same as falling off a push bike. I grazed my knee and we snapped the hand guard on the bike and bent the gear lever. Nothing serious. Now I can pretend to be cool and tell people Ive fallen off a motorbike.

I really enjoyed the whole motorbike aspect, even though I was really scared at first. I secretly felt pretty bad ass driving around on the back of a bike, and it was a really fun ride. Plus its more 'authentic' going on a bike just like Che.

From La Higuera we went to Pucara, and bought petrol from a corner shop. Pucara is a really pretty little town along the Che Trail, although we didnt spend very long there as we were pressed for time.

We got back to Valle Grande for 1.30 and were starving. We had an excellent meal in a nice restaurant overlooking the main plaza and then lay on a bench in the sun for a while before continuing on.

We made our way back to Samaipata just as it got dark. The route is so pretty, its "real Bolivia", just how I imagined it to be before coming here. We had to stop so many times along the way because there were random animals stood in the middle of the road, so many animals! Horses, cows, donkies, chickens, pigs, dogs... repeatedly blocking our way, it was really funny.

It was an awesome trip. Felt really cool to be doing it ourselves alone, and not paying a ton for a guided tour. We were just free to do what we wanted and go where we pleased. I enjoyed camping too, proper roughing it! I was exhausted by the end though; a lot of the trail was downhill, meaning my whole bodyweight plus the weight of the back pack was falling forward onto Jonathan, and squashing his balls against the petrol tank!! Uncomfortable for him but also hard work for me as I was constantly trying to push back with my legs to support my weight.

El Fuerte

14th June 2011

El Fuerte is... THE BIGGEST CARVED ROCK IN THE WORLD! Pretty amazing right? I went there today with an English lad called Sam who is staying in the hostel.

We half walked, half hitch hiked there, its only 9km away from Samaipata but the road there is up and down hill and is dusty and hard to walk on. We hitched 2 cars to get there, the first dropped us at the bottom of the hill, from where we walked about 2km before stopping a couple in a jeep, they stopped leaving us in a in a cloud of dusk and took us right to the enterance.

El Fuerte consists of a long walkway around this massive rock. The path has several look out points with beautiful views of the surrounding mountains and of course, views of the "world famous" rock. It has carvings from pre-inca times and has been used for centuries as a fortress, a temple, a trade centre - everything. It was a very pleasant walk actually. Nice views, inca ruins - standard south american tourist attraction really. I enjoyed it. We rushed through a little because I had to be back at the hostel for 1, but I think we took enough time- theres only so much rock you can look at before getting fed up.

We started walking, unenthusiastically, down the mountain for about half an hour before hitching a ride on a flat bed truck. Sitting on the back of a truck in south america hitching through the Andes is endlessly cool, however, the cloud of dust and dirt which envolves you is not. We got a lift all the way back to Samaipata, saving us loads of money, but we were covered in dust and dirt by the end of it.

It was a good trip, followed by a good evening. Even though Im supposed to stay in the hostel all night I managed to slip out for dinner. We went to Tierra Libre, by far the best restaurant in town, and had a fantastic meal followed by lots of red wine, card games, cake and music in the hostel. Not bad really.

Hitching to Cuevas

11th June, Cuevas

The people who run the hostel, Andres & Dora, also have a farm far up in the mountains, and there's a guy living up there in total isolation taking care of the place. His name's Jonathan and he's American. He comes from North Carolina and calls me "ma'am" which I quite like.

Today Jonathan and went to a town called Cuevas, 20km away from Samaipata. As there are very few buses per day, and taxis are really expensive, we ended up hitch hiking there. So... Im sorry Mum, I broke my promise and hitch hiked. Everyone does it here as we're so far away from everything and everywhere, it's the most reliable mode of transport.

After 20 minutes walking we got picked up, coincidentally, by some guys staying in the hostel who were off out on a tour. We climbed up onto the back of their guide's jeep and got dropped off right outside where we wanted to go.

We paid 10Bs each, which is about £1, to enter this reserve. We walked through the reserve, past 3 beautiful waterfalls, and carried on, eventually going off-track, over barbed wire fences and fighting our way through trees and branches until we could go no further. We turned back and made it to the river where we agreed we wanted to climb the huge mountain facing us. Naturally, being the born adventurers we are, we chose not to follow the winding path that lead slowly and safely to the top, instead we chose the straight up vertical route. We were doing well clawing up mud and clinging on to grass and rocks, until we got about 2m from the top. First John got stuck and very nearly fell to his end when the rock he was stood on started to slip. Then when he managed to get over the ledge at the top it was my turn to risk my life. At one point John was holding my whole body weight with one hand and I was just dangling precariously off the edge of this cliff.

But we survived it and the view from the top was very nice. We celebrated our triumph with a banana.

After the sweaty hike we swam in the river and jumped in off rocks by the waterfalls. The water was freezing but it was so nice. There was even golden sand by the side of the river so we dried off on our own little beach. It was gorgeous.

Getting back to Samaipata I fulfilled a small ambition of mine; I hitched a truck! We stopped a big lorry thats probably usually used to transport cows, and we had to climb up the side and over the top to get in. Inside there was a load of bags (probably full of cocaine) and a rural looking woman asleep on top of them. We stood up and leaned over the sides, getting thrown 2ft in the air everytime we went over a bump. It was FUN.

Andoriña Hostel, Samaipata

I am volunteering at Andoriña hostel in Samaipata. Samaipata is a little village in the Andes in the Santa Cruz region of Bolivia, its in a valley surrounded by mountains, there are no cash machines or supermarkets and the only internet available is in one of two internet cafes where the connection is incredibly slow. Its a very quiet, peaceful and picturesque place.

The hostel is located 2 blocks away from the main square, it has a maximum capacity of 20 and is run by a couple called Andres (Holland) and Dora (Samaipata). They're a pretty odd couple. Eccentric vegetarian eco hippies, neither of them are very chatty or have any discernable social skills. When I arrived, after almost 24 hours travelling, I introduced myself as the new volunteer and expected to be welcomed with some kind of induction, a tour of the hostel, perhaps maybe even a cup of tea. But no. All I got was a frosty hand shake and I was left sat at a table for hours. No one even showed me where my room was.

The hostel is nice, it has lots of plants and hammocks and verandas where its nice to sit and chill. My room is downstairs in the communal living room, but no one uses it so I have a pretty large space to myself, and my own bathroom.

I get to stay here for free, free breakfast, and free reign on the hostel in exchange for working here 5 afternoons a week. Although its not exactly clear what I have to do, as nobody bothered to explain it to me. Basically I have to be around from 1pm, incase anybody arrives, sometimes there are beds to be made, or washing up to be done, but most of the time I just sit around in one of the hammocks and drink coffee. The lame thing is that I have to stay here all the time, even though theres nothing to do. I have to lock up at night and be around incase anyone forgets their key or incase we have late arrivals. I dont see myself staying here the 6 weeks theyre expecting me to stay.

The Trip to Samaipata

8th June
More long bus rides.

After about 5 hours sleep in the whole time I was in La Paz I got on the night bus to Santa Cruz. For a 17 hour journey the bus didnt even have a toilet, and for the first time on a bus I felt scared.

At one point, slowing down in traffic to pass through a toll, I asked the driver if we could stop for a toilet break and he told me no, but I could go by the side of the road if I liked. So naturally - I did. I peed in front of a long line of traffic, on the hard shoulder before a motorway toll, and the bus didnt even wait for me, I had to run to catch it up again and get back on!

More trauma occured at about 2am; I was leaning back in my seat, unable to sleep, with my arm behind my head resting on the head rest, and the man behind me wiped his face along my arm!! It scared the life out of me. Slobbery and whiskery. I turned round to see what the hell he was playing at and he looked out of his face on something. He was scary. So I just kept my mouth shut and sat there traumatised for a while.

My saviour during the trip was the girl next to me. Although the rest of the bus passengers were scary looking men, my companion for the trip was a sweet 17 year old called Vera, from La Paz. We chatted lots, she read my palm and did some sort of adolescent 'he loves me he loves me not' thing with a lolly stick. I liked her.

Early in the morning we all had to get off the bus whilst the army searched it for drugs. Id just woken up and was well confused. They didnt find any and we were on our way once more.

From Santa Cruz, which isnt a particularly inviting or interesting city, I took a 'colectivo' to Samaipata. A colectivo is a pooled taxi. Our driver, a keen businessman, cramed 6 of us into the car including himself. There were two fully grown men squashed onto the front seat for the 2.5 hour drive!

The drive to Samaipata was 1 hour of straight road, followed by 1.5 hours of poorly or unpaved windy mountain roads as we went further into the Andes.

Finally I arrived at Andoriña hostel.

Wild Rover, La Paz

6th - 8th June, La Paz

I stayed in Wild Rover hostel. A well known chain of party hostels in Peru and Bolivia. And oh how it was fun!

On the first night I arrived at half 5 had a shower and went straight to the bar. The night ended with me dancing on the bar, getting called a pikey, crying, and being taken home by two Iraelis.

On the second night I lost 40 bolivianos in a game of poker, pulled a sexy Serbian and stayed out til 8.30 in the morning in a secret club where you can order cocaine at the bar.

And two Austrailians gave me money. Totally separate unrelated and random people.

As for La Paz, its big, hilly and busy. I visited a witches market selling dead baby llamas, bought some "sex potion", and went for a pee in the poshest hotel in the city which costs 800 bolivianos per night.

The city is like a bowl, the centre being at the bottom of the bowl and spreading out up the sides. There are great views if you can be bothered walking up high enough and can find a spot without a sky scraper blocking your view.

All in all I had a great time there because of the people, the hostel and the nightlife, but the city itsself didnt endear me that much; its big and everything is spread out, and there arent specific tourist attractions to visit so its hard to know where to go.

Copacabana & La Isla del Sol

After being ill all night I missed the morning boat to the islands, so I spent a few hours moping about Copacabana, feeling rough and sorry for myself. I sat on the beach, which is overrun with tour operators and I was in such a foul mood I considered going straight to La Paz and just skipping the island all together. I didnt though, and Im really glad.

At 1.30pm I got on a boat to the Isla del Sol. It's an island and protected nature reserve with a population of 2000, it took an hour and a half to get there from Copacabana on the boat, and I didn't get sick. On the boat I met two English girls, an Argentine girl and some Brazilians.

My first impression of the island wasnt great as I still had a grey cloud hanging over my head and I was faced with yet more stairs to climb. Seriously all Ive done is climb things since I got to South America. We went up and up and at the top I forced myself upon two of the Brazilian boys and made them share a room with me. It worked out cheaper and I really didnt want to stay on my own. Plus they were hot and really funny. The room had the most stunning view I have ever seen, overlooking the lake and the Isla de la Luna.

Across from the Isla del Sol is the Isla de la luna, a smaller less touristy island with only 100 inhabitants. You can get a private boat there but I didnt because it's expensive.

Me and the Brazilians, Sebastian and Valmor, then continued to climb to the very top of the island where we could see the west side. We had lunch on a terrace, in the sun, overlooking the lake. There was no one else around and it was peaceful.

After lunch we walked up (yes, up some more) to the highest point of the island, from where we could see the whole island, Puno to the west, Copacabana in the south and the snow capped mountains in the east. We stayed there for ages and watched the sunset, the whole sky turned orange.

As it got dark we headed back towards the village and went to a restaurant with another Brazilian couple. The restaurant didnt have any electricity and the only light outside was the moon shining on the lake. Inside we sat by candle light and drank red wine and ate pizza.

It was a really nice evening, although it was a bit of an effort to keep up with the conversation which was mainly in Portuguese! We stayed in the restaurant for ages before stumbling home in the dark.

The next day we woke up really early to our beautiful view and had breakfast outside. To celebrate the gloriousness of the view I had one of my precious Tetleys teabags that Stacey gave me before I left home. Then we went on a mini trek across the island to some pre-inca ruins. A temple built around 1200AD to worship the sun.

We got the boat back to Copacabana and I gave up trying to converse in Portuguese, instead I sprawled out at the front of the boat and enjoyed the sun and the scenery.

Back in Copacabana we went for lunch and RANDOMLY I saw the 4 rugby boys off my Colca trek! They had lunch with us, it was so nice to bumb into them again, in a totally different country!

Then I was off again on my way to La Paz. I sat next to a German lad on the bus, his name was Christian and he lives in Sucre. At one point we had to get off the bus and onto a boat to cross the lake, the coach was sent across on what I can only describe as a wooden raft! I couldnt believe me eyes.

The bus to La Paz was only 3 hours and I got there at about 5pm, said farewell and promised to visit Christian, and went to my hostel, straight to the bar to find some new friends!

Las Islas Uros

The Floating Islands, Puno, Peru.

At 8.30am I was collected from my empty hostel by a chatty Oasis fan called Luis. He escorted me to the port and left me sat on a boat. We eventually set off across Lake Titicaca. It´s beautiful, still and clear like a mirror. It took half an hour to reach the islands and we were welcomed by the locals singing in their native language Aymara and wearing traditional dress. On each island there are up to 10 families, living in houses made from reed. The islands themselves float on the root of the reed, 3m deep. It´s weird and squishy to walk on. We got to taste the reed, which the locals eat, it was like soft coconut and we went in the reed houses...which have solar powered TV!!!

We went on a ride on a reed "taxi" where we were hassled to give money to the local children, they fleeced me.

It was an enjoyable trip, really surreal that people live like that. Really interesting. During the trip I met some lads from Bolton (small world) and some Canadian girls.

After that I had a mooch around Puno. It´s pretty unspectacular. The most interesting thing was a lookout point up the mountain that had amazing views of the entire town and bay.

At 2.30pm I got my bus across the boarder to Copacabana. Crossing the boarder I had to actually get off the bus and walk across, and get stamps in my passport from 3 different immigration offices!

Copacaban is lovely, and so cheap! But unfortunately I didnt get to see much of it because I got sick pretty much as soon as I arrived and spent the evening hugging the toilet bowl in my not-very-nice hotel.

I´m always sad when I leave people and go off travelling on my own again, and this was compounded by my being ill. I wanted to go back to Arequipa to my nice house and all the lovely people there. Nothing worse than being on your own when youre sick.