The ultimate destination

Leaving the gorgeous Iguazu falls behind me I make my way into Brazil heading for the city of Curitiba. Curitiba is a nice and well-maintained city in southern Brazil and well-known for its exceptionally well-developed public transportation system. My main reason for going there is the famous train ride to the coastal town of Paranagua.

The train ride is spectacular passing through marvellous landscapes and cliffs. It brings me to the colonial town of Morretes where I have lunch. It's my first experience with the typical Brazilian 'per/kg' restaurant. What you do is fill up your plate with whatever you'd like to eat. At the checkout they put it on a balance and you pay for the amount of kilograms. I like the concept and it's a good way of economizing a bit on food expenses.

People in Brazil speak Portuguese. For this reason during my first days in Brazil I feel a little lost. Lost because I cannot talk to anyone anymore like I used to do in Spanish. Lost because it seems to be Spanish but sounds like Russian. Lost because all of a sudden I feel like being a stranger. It's kind of frustrating but interesting: a language so close to Spanish, but so differently pronounced. Brazil is very different from previous countries in other aspects as well: cities are well-developed, transportation and accommodation are expensive, even compared to European standards.

My journey continues into São Paulo. With 22 million inhabitants, São Paulo is the largest city on the southern hemisphere. It's a huge metropolitan jungle and I'm planning to stay only two days here. On my first day, I walk around the city center and from one of the highest buildings I have a nice overview of all the mushrooming skyscrapers. The next day it's raining so I spend most of my day in the hostel. In the afternoon I make a short excursion to the Ibirapuera city park, the largest park designed by the famous architect Oscar Niemeyer. From São Paulo I take a night bus to Rio de Janeiro, the final destination of my journey! Arriving there gives me mixed feelings. I'm feeling a bit nervous because the end of my trip is near! My final destination: this is it! I've been looking forward to this for so long. Is this it?

It's 5:30 in the morning. I wake up and I'm on an empty bus in a dodgy terminal. The driver friendly requests me to get off the bus and to collect my baggage. At least, that's what I assume what his words mean. Even at this early hour the terminal seems crowded with people. I buy myself a coffee and still half asleep try to find a bus that will bring me to my hostel. The weather is bad: it's pouring down. Is this the famous awesome Rio? Despite the bad weather I spend a good couple of days in my hostel in the neighborhood of Botafogo. During these days I check out the city. On my third day I embarkon a city tour to see the famous statue of Cristo Redentor that overlooks the city and welcomes everyone with open arms. Of course this is a huge tourist trap, but inevitable when visiting Rio. The view from here over the city is just incredible! I also see the famous bohemien neighborhood of Santa Teresa where many artists live and work. It's the only part of Rio that is still connected to the center by a tram. The slums or favelas' can now be visited as many are controlled by the police. This offers me another view on Brazil where not everything is glitter and glamour. Going up the Sugar Loaf mountain on the first sunny day gives me another stunning city view from the seaside. Counting down the days I'm enjoying Rio de Janeiro spending my final days in South America on the beach. While enjoying it in all its glory I'm spending time to reflect upon my eight-month journey that's about to come to an end here!

Across a wall of water

From Asunción I will leave Paraguay and travel straight to the Iguazu waterfalls. They are located in Argentina and in Brazil close to the triple border point with Paraguay, which makes the journey tedious but interesting.

The city on the Paraguayan border side is called Ciudad del Este and is best known as 'South America's shopping mall', because all Brazilians and Argentinians go there to buy cheap goods. And it's actually true: at the bus stations I see tonnes of people carrying huge bags with clothes, electronics, toys, blankets and other cheap stuff that they're bringing to their homes in either of the two neighboring countries. From Ciudad del Este I have to take a shuttle bus that will bring me to Puerto Iguazu, the town in Argentina from where I'll visit the falls. The shuttle bus crosses the bridge into Brazil but won't stop there, meaning we won't have to get Brazilian stamps. Although this saves us a little time the short journey still takes us about two hours due to all the border crossings and all formalities due there. Puerto Iguazu is a well-maintained but very touristic town. The next days I visit the falls and they are just astonishing. Words cannot describe the incredible awe that fulfills people when seeing the falls, so I won't even try. What I cán do is quote a famous American named Roosevelt: 'Poor Niagara is nothing compared to Iguazu'.

The park is very touristic: it's like walking through an amusement park. The second day I visit the Brazilian side. From the Brazilian park I can look across the river and see Argentine people and visitors staring at us. It's kind of intriguing and bewildering at the same time: such a magnificent piece of nature with people staring at it. Moreover, they're standing in different countries, which fascinates me and distracts me a bit. Where a borderlline runs on the map I see plain water and where the powers that be rule their respective territories all I see is a peaceful united marvel of nature. It seems to justify my belief that borders are only a spin of the human mind. Nature doesn't respect them and the birds can just freely cross the border. These birds remind me of the Dutch lyrics in 'Over de Muur' about the Berlin Wall:

En alleen de vogels vliegen van oost naar west Berlijn,

Worden niet teruggefloten, ook niet neergeschoten.

Over de muur, over het ijzeren gordijn.

Omdat ze soms in het westen, soms ook in het oosten willen zijn

(Only birds fly from east to west Berlin

Are neither called back nor shot

Across the wall, across the iron curtain

Because now and then they prefer either west or east)

When visiting Iguazu it was exactly 50 years ago that the Soviets put up the wall that physically split the continent into two parts. Germany now celebrates its reunion and together with the rest of Europe they take pride in the free and open European Community as we know it today.

However, at the same time, in many parts of the world borders still dó exist. I think of the people from Cuba whose government doesn't allow them to leave their island. I think of the Colombians that are hardly given any opportunities abroad justbecause they are Colombians. I think of the people from Venezuela that have a set budget for traveling each year.I think ofEurope, where borders are open for natives, but whichproves an unaccessible 'fortress' for non-residents.I realize that the borders between which you are born determine your nationality and your nationality determines your life.

Leaving the waterfalls I go back to Argentina. With my Dutch / EU passport the little journey across the border takes me about two hours. Staring out of the window I see the birds flying. Without any passport they accomplish their journey in two minutes. Spreading their wings they vanish into the distance.

Change has come to Argentina and the mystery called "Paraguay"

Change is an intriguing issue everywhere I've been to in South America. Not only because of the political pamphlets I see posted everywhere: 'Vote for change!', 'Por el cambio'. Especially there's the problem of a lack of small cash in most countries here. That's what I found out. However, contrary to my expectations, Argentina outbeats them all! Due to devaluation of the Argentinian peso prices are subject to sudden change. For example, where most guidebooks give price indications for hostels for about 30 pesos per night, to my disbelief the cheapest seems to be 50 pesos now. Taking a city bus seems easy, but the bus tickets cost 1.75 pesos. This is absolutely a nightmare fare in terms of coins, because a machine issues them, doesn't take bills nor does it give any change.

Peso bills: the smallest denomination is 2 pesos, or about 30 cents!

On my second day in Salta I'm stuck at the bus terminal and want to get back into the city center by bus. So before I get on the bus, I need to get change because I only have bills! Good luck. Going into a sandwich bar seems a straightforward solution of getting some change, but after ordering a couple of sandwiches I find out that all prices are rounded up to even numbers. The two-peso bill is the smallest bill. So no chance I will get any change here. Then I try a small shop on the same block to buy a chocolate bar for 3 pesos. I pay with two 2-peso bills and anxiously I wait for my 1-peso coin to come back. But this quickly turns into a deception as my change is given in the form of little sweets. 'Sorry, no change sir' is the simple answer i get. Almost desperate (I want to get back to the hostel) I look around for which bank I should rob in order to get some of these precious little coins. A very friendly lady tells me the way to the closest bank. But at least fifty people are waiting in the line so no chance here either. I decide to give up, walk back, and enjoy Salta once again. On my way back I pass by at least twenty bank offices all having huge lines in front of them. This is Argentina. Developed and rich but with some fascinating monetary problems. Having money but without change you'll live like the poorest here.

I spend three days in Salta, a pleasant city in northern Argentina and of course I have my first good steak here. Then I take a bus to Asunción, the capital of Paraguay. Actually my next destination will be the marvellous Iguazu falls, but I'm fascinated with the idea of visiting Paraguay: hardly any traveler knows about it. The unknown is wat attracts me so I decide to check it out.

Welcome to Paraguay! The country of red, white and blue!

My stop in Paraguay will be Asunción, the capital, which is located just across the border. Asunción is a beautiful old colonial city with fascinating constrasts: rich Paraguayans live here together with the poor. It's hot here: at almost sea level and close to a huge river it reminds me of Guayaquil on the coast of Ecuador.

People in Paraguay aren't really used to tourists. They stare at me and at the few other tourists I see. It's like they want to express me their disbelief: 'Did you really come to Paraguay to see our country? Are you crazy?'. Street vendors seem to be significantly more aggressive here. While dining with Christin, whom I traveled with to Paraguay, the same watch vendor approaches us at least four times. He isdropping his 'ultime price' at least three times before he finally gives up. At least three other vendors try to sell their stuff to those who seem to be the only tourists in town. It's funny and tragic at the same time. All of a sudden an old lady runs into our table. Immediately I grab my belongings, however, that doesn't seem to be necessary. She picks up the full glass of beer from our table, downs it and heads off as fast as she came. Leaving us perplexed as we are, I request another glass with the waiter. (voor alle BoLe die dit lezen: het glas was absoluutbeheerd!)

Governmental palace in Asunción decorated for the 200th anniversary of Paraguay!

Like all countries I visited before Paraguay is celebrating its independence day around these days. Because it's the 200^th anniversary all streets and buildings are dressed up in red, whit and blue. The Paraguayan flag resembles the Dutch flag so it's easy to feel at home here. To be honest, this is absolutely hilarious.Every day I question myself if oranjehas to play today. The interesting thing is that Paraguay, though lacking major tourist attractions, has a lot to offer. There are vast areas of nature, national parks and wildlife being easilly accessible. It's a good country for hiking, trekking and birdwatching . Most of the country is very agricultural and not very populated and many people live on ranches. People in Paraguay are very friendly and although not very used to tourists they're happy to receive them. They're proud of their country now celebrating its 200-year anniversary and maybe it will just take a little more time for the tourists to come. Until that day take the chance and enjoy Paraguay in all its purity!

From Bolivia into Argentina: miles ahead – years behind

Salar de Uyuni, the world's largest salt flat is incredibly beautful. It's a surrealistic landscape, it's like being on another planet.

Despite its beauty, in Uyuni it's extremely cold so I'd like to leave as quickly as possible for a warmer place. My next stop will be Tupiza, a pleasant town in southern Bolivia. Together with Christin, from Germany, I decide to take the 8 pm bus. Only a six-hour drive separates us from an appealing warmth compared to the deep-freezer Uyuni is like. After an incredibly running dinner and race towards the bus stop we make it just in time. 'Is this our bus? ' Christin notably questions, as it doesn't seem that luxury (which is an understatement). But yeah, this is it and although almost empty it suprisingly departs on time. This is against all South- American standards! Leaving Uyuni the most bumpy six-hours of my live begin. Just imagine yourself riding a supermarket trolley on a cabblestone road for six hours. No light. Freezing cold. That's about the feeling we experience for six hours. Something you should experience at least once in your lifetime. Frozen but safely we arrive in Tupiza.

In Tupiza I relax a bit and on the national Bolivian independence day with a lot of fiesta I embark on a roundtrip to see the beautiful surroundings. Jeep driving, horseback riding and mountainbiking are all included. The huge variety in colours and vegetation in the landscape are breathtaking.

I meet two Danish people and they explain me the possibility of catching a taxi that will pick us up and bring us all the way to the border with Argentina. It sounds attractive for the price given and for the fact they'll leave earlier than scheduled bus services so together with them and with Christin we're four people and make a good deal with the guy. He promises to pick us up at our hostel at 6:00 a.m. so we'll be able to catch a connecting at the border around 8:00 a.m. We pay him 50% upfront.

The next morning we're all packed and ready, waiting in front of our hostel, but after 6:15 we're starting to get a little nervous. No driver, no car. Because I lost the little note with his phone number I decide to walk to the office, two blocks ahead, to inquire but no-one is here to answer my questions and I walk back to the hostel where the other three are still waiting more or less having accepted the situationand considering other options. On that moment a car stops and here he is: our driver. Visibly exhausted he starts to upload our bags. Because there's another girl in the car, our bags have to go on top of the car, but there are no ropes to fixthem. While arguing with him I start asking him questions and while asking these it becomes clear he must have drunk a lot last night, like everybody, being the cause for his delay. I suggest to go to his house to pick up some ropes so we can secure the bags and finally leave.

In about five minutes we arrive at his house and collect the required ropes. Togeth er with him we climb onto the roof of the car to fix our baggage. However, one of the ropes breaks so the whole process takes forever. When we finally leave Tupiza it's already past 7:00 and I start complaining that we're never going to catch our next bus, but the driver assures me that everything is going to be all right. Smoothly we drive onto the road under construction: most parts are well paved. Normally this would have pleased me but in this case I'm noticing our fellow driver has a hard time not falling asleep so I'd have preferred a bumpy road instead. The whole situation now really begins to stress me out and all I want is to arrive safely at the border and not crash because of this stupid and irresponsible guy. In order to keep him awake I just start talking to him and make him drink half of my bottle of coke which I luckily brought with me. This gives him a new boost as his eyes seem wide-opened now. After 45 minutes he stops again to spray some fresh water and we move on quickly. After five minutes, however, we stop again as the tire has gotten flat. I question the whole situation and suggest to replace the tire, but our fellow driver tells me doesnt have a spare tire and I now realize why: he has already been driving on his spare tire for the whole journey! He assures me that we're close to our destination and that we'll just continue carefully so he gets back in the car and keeps on driving. But after a few minutes we hear a loud bang from the exploding tire and we're stuck in the middle of nowhere. Can you call someone?' I suggest to him. 'No sir, there's no signal'. So stuck in the middle of nowhere I inquire about the possibility of walking. He says it would be 3 or 4 kilometers but considering his state of mind we don't really believe this.

All we can do is wait for another car with a spare tire. Luckily we don't have to wait very long before a taxi driver stops. He doesn't have a spare tire either but I ask him if he could take us to the border which he's willing to do for 15 bolivianos per person. Our reliable driver comes in between and suggests we pay him the remaining 50% of his fee and he will negotiate a price, but I immediately wave him off saying we're not going to pay him anything and order my friends to grab their bags and move them into our rescue vehicle. We drive for about twenty minutes and considering the velocity it must be at least another 25 kilometers before we arrive at the border crossing which is fairly easy and brings me into Argentina!

Argentina brings me a European feeling as it is so much more developed than all countries I traveled through before. Buses are luxury and pricy. For the first time in eight months I'm driving on a real highway with several lanes, guardrails, exits and so on. I'm leaving behind Bolivia, South America's highest but poorest. Bolivia that has so many beautiful things to see and to offer but at the same time lacks significant development. Bolivia the landlocked state that is governed by a corrupt regime. Bolivia: it was not always easy, but it was a pleasure.

Crossing the bridge with my backpack on my shoulders I'm looking back, back upon my trip and back into time. Not just one hour as the clock tells me, but decades separate Bolivia from Argentina. Ahead I see a different world. I'm touched by these two worlds so close together in place yet so far apart in time. Crossing the bridge I gratefully say goodbye and look back once again on this marvel of nature. Chao Bolivia!

Into Bolivia - into extremes

From Peru my journey continues through Bolivia. Known as the poorest country in South America, having the worst roads and the extremest cold in some areas, I'm quite excited to cross the border and to experience the extreme!

The border crossing is easy and my first stop is Copacabana on the other side of Lake Titicaca. This town is definitely a tourist trap and my only reason for stopping here is to see the Isla del Sol, which offers beautiful views over the lake and has several ancient Inca ruins, as the Inca empire was founded here. After this short trip I take today's last bus to La Paz, leaving at 6:30 pm. La Paz is the de facto capital of Bolivia and its largest city. It directly reminds of Quito: squeezed into a valley at high altitude it's a crowded, chaotic but lively and pleasant metropolitan city. I check into quite a large and gringo-like hostel. Usually not my preference but the free pancake breakfast is appealing and good.

On my first day I explore the city by just walking around. Its steep streets directly remind me of Quito. The whole city seems to be like a huge open-air market. This is similar to many cities in Latin America, but I've never seen it like it's here: people literally selling everything from the early morning until late in the evening. Even at 10 at night people are still withstanding the cold to make a couple more bolivianos.

As La Paz is located at an incredible 4000 meters of altitude, it gets terribly cold at night. At daytime it's quite pleasant as long as the sun is shining. One of the museums in La Paz gives an interesting outline about the Pacific War during the 1800s. During this war, Chile conquered the coastal area of Bolivia and ever since the country has been landlocked. Realising myself that having no seaport means a significant drawback compared to most other South American countries I conclude this must be one of the causes for Bolivia being the poorest country in South America. While I'm in the museum a group of school children come in. The teacher recalls the Pacific War asking them: 'What did we lose during the war?'Chorally, the children reply: 'Our sea!' Another cool museum is the Coca museum in which everything about the production of coca, coca-cola, cocaine and whatsoever is outlined in an appealing way. Of course mate de coca is available to drink.

In Bolivia bus rides are challengeing and spectacular. Whereas in Peru more comfortable and luxury buses are easy to find and as a gringo you can pay yourself into a western way of traveling, in Bolivia this is far more difficult. It's especially challengeing when it comes to the less crowded routes. It's always a surprise whether you end up with half a meter of leg space, or hardly any space at all having a lama on your side. Roads in Bolivia are simple and many of them are unpaved. To and from La Paz, the majority of the roads is fairly acceptable, but in the southern or eastern parts of the country, one should not expect much more than a bumpy track through a desolate landscape. Just imagine yourself sitting in a supermarket trolley on a cabblestone road. For hours and hours, making 180 degree turns on rickety cliff roads and throug hairpin curves. Then try to imagine that it's minus 20 degrees outside while the windows of your bus will only partially shut or give some additional ventilation through the many cracks that are in it. Welcome to Bolivia.

After La Paz I make my way down to Cochabamba. This place has a milder climate as it's off the cold and high altiplano. I spend two days there on one of which I rent a bike to explore the indicated bicycle route. From Cochabamba I decide to take a flight to the capital, Sucre, to save myself a 12-hour bus ride. In 20 minutes I get into Sucre, the landing in the mountaineous area is just spectacular.

Sucre is outstanding. Being called a white city, it definitely is and it reminds me directly of Cuenca. Driving into town I see signs everwhere saying 'Sucre capital de Bolivia', just to remind people of its official capital status Today is Sunday and I've been told that there is nice indigenous market in the village of Tarabuco, about an hour from Sucre. I take a small collectivo (a minibus that you share with as many other people as possible so the drive makes as many Bolivianos as possible). I walk around the market, have lunch and buy some souvenirs. On the bus back to Sucre I share an interesting talk with a Bolivian gynaecologist. We talk about the economical and political problems in Bolivia and why it is so tough to make a living in this country. He gives me some great travel advices.

Leaving Sucre the taxi driver brings me to the bus terminal. The taxi driver is a friendly man well interested his passengers. Because there's a lot of traffic and the bus will leave in 25 minutes, he makes a quick and smart detour to make it to the terminal. Before arrival he asks me if it were possible to pay him in my own currency. The taxi ride is 8 bolivianos and as it is 10 bolivianos to the euro, I give him one euro coin of which I still carry a few in one of my pockets. Jokingly, I excuse myself for giving him a Belgian coin instead of a Dutch one and let him keep the change.

From Sucre my trip goes further south towards Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt lake in the world. Even without having seen this highlight, Bolivia has already met my expectations being a country of extremes.

Across the poverty line

Lake Titicaca is the world's highest navigable lake at an altitude of about 3,800 m. It has a Peruvian and a Bolivian side. No borderline is visible on the lake, of course. Close to the city of Puno are the floating Uros islands on which people actually live: the so-called Uru people.

In Puno I decide it would be a cool and interesting experience to spend the night on one of the floating islands. Most tourists take daytrips to some of the bigger islands, but I think a closer look and experience will bring me closer to the real thing. Doing a little research in Puno I obtain the phone number of one of the families and after a short phone call they pick me up at the main plaza in Puno in the afternoon.

From there we take a taxi towards the lake shore, where a little boat is awaiting us. In about thirty minutes we arrive at the Uros community. Some of the islands are visibly very touristic. On Qhantati island people can spend the night, but only a few people do this every week, as it's not offered by the travel agencies. This means that the money I pay directly goes to the family and not into the pockets of sketchy agencies.

The family whom I'm staying with, Christina and Victor Vilca, gives me a warm welcome. I walk around the island, which is actually a huge floating device, it's incredible! They're made of totora, a type of reed that grows in the lake. The islands thus require a continous and labor-intensive process of maintenance. On the island, I meet a Brazilian couple and we go out for fishing. Questioning myself where the rods are I realize that we're not going to catch anything today,: we're just setting out some nets for the next day while we're enjoying the sunset.

At the island I also meet a French lady (Fabienne) who works for the French 'La Runa' association with social development projects in Latin America. Passionately she tells me about their latest projects in Peru. Right now she's at the Uros islands to donate toothbrushes, toothpaste and second-hand clothes to the communities that live in poverty. In addition, she gives instructions how to brush your teeth, which is the educational aspect of the program. She brought items all the way from France, which wasn't an easy job. Although KLM - Air France offered her free carriage of the goods, Peruvian customs were a little bit surprised to encounter 1200 toothbrushes in her bags. The next day, she'll go to the other side of the lake to distribute them. 'In this part,' she says, 'tourists never come. People here live under hard conditions, below the poverty line.' She invites me to come with her to help her with the distribution. 'It's a totally different world, ' Victor assures me. Without hesitation I promise to go with her and Victor, who is going to captain the boat.

The next day the three of us load all clothes, toothbrushes and some food (I brought some fresh apples from Puno) into the vessel and set sail towards the islands named Ccapi. After sailing for about 1,5 hours we arrive at the community. However, as there is a wedding today, most adults seem to have already left. We visit one of the schools, but nobody is there. It's interesting though to see that one of the school has solar panels, financed by Euro-Solar, an EU-funded program. Victor tells us that education on the islands is of low quality. 'All teachers come from Puno. They usually arrive from the city on Monday, so class won't start until Tuesday. It's really a problem for the community.' We move on to the village, where a couple of kids are playing. Immediately it is evident that Victor was right: this is a totallly different world. The children look neglected, unhealthy, starving and very fragile. Some of them approach us on their rafts, interested by this foreign visit. Victor asks them if there are any adult people in the village, because we need a responsible person to give the toothbrushes to. One mother shows up, carrying a little baby. Though being the only adult present, she's probably not older than fifteen years. She seems really reserved, not willing to be approached by strangers.

More and more children are gathering around us. 'Let's give them something to eat', Fabienne proposes. Victor starts handing out some cookies to all of them, which they're happy to receive. Fabienne opens the bags with clothes and starts matching sizes with kids. As soon as they realize they will get some neat and clean clothes they get really excited . Some of them try to jump into our boat. In the meantime, the mother has joined the group together with a few more little children. In total, I think, we're surrounded by at least 25 villagers. While Victor and Fabienne are doing the clothes-stuff, my main task is to take photographs and capture video material for the association.

Victor coordinates the process speaking to the kids in Aymara language and he translates this into Castellano for us. Every child receives a new jumper and some new pants. Despite the pityful situation in which they obviously are, it's heartbreaking to see the many happy faces. Upon departure, one little boy has decided to become captain of our boat, not being prepared to let it go. Victor talks to him and I hand him an apple, which proves sufficient distraction to make him move onto his friends' raft.

Leaving the first island, the three of us are more or less silent, thinking of what we just saw and experienced. Victor explains that he and his family try to support the people in this part of the lake, but that it's not easy. 'Even the government doesn't do much to support these people,' he adds. 'The only thing they do is fishing. My wife came from this part of the lake. With the money we make we try to do our best to help them.' Fabienne, usually not the most silent person, doesn't have a lot to add. 'It's very tough,' she utters , 'but it's reality.' I ask Victor why they don't move to the wealthier part of the community. 'This is their land, their culture, their tradition. They want to maintain it.'

Carrying the clothes, toothbrushes (they will be delivered later) and the experience from the first islands, we head towards the second island. Here we find six children without any parents at all. They're living in the same poor conditions. But as their parents are away they're making a lot of fun. We invite them to come to our boat and they follow us excitedly. Here the process of handing out clothes starts again. Patiently they take a seat in our boat, awaiting turns to receive a Spiderman t-shirt, some clean pants, or a hat .

The oldest girl is probably about eleven, so we don't have any size available for her, but we give her some for her little brothers. Fabienne gives a brief toothbrushing instruction with the model she brought. When we head off, we leave the children behind us, gratefully waving at us.

Sailing back to Qhantati island we talk about what we've seen and done today while we enjoy the sunshine and tranquility. A little breeze pushes us forward across the gorgeous deep-blue lake. We're approaching Qhantati island, our home-base. Back to the other world. We just crossed the poverty line again. We didn't see it. But we know it's there.

For more information on 'La Runa' association, their projects and volunteering positions in Peru or Bolivia, feel free to visit their website: http://www.laruna.fr/ . In English soon!

The power of dreams

The Ballestas islands are just a few kilometers off the Peruvian coast. They preserve a great abundance of birds and sea animals. It's referred to as the Peruvian Galapagos and whether it deserves this description or not, it's a miraculous experience to admire such a great amount of pinguins, birds and sea lions.

The next day I head off to Nazca, famous for the so-called Nazca lines and geoglyphs in the middle of the desert. For those who never watch Discovery Channel: the Nazca figures and lines were created by ancient civilizations over periods of thousands of years. The lines and figures are supposed to be enjoyed from the air. Many tourists visit Nazca just by taking a $100 dollar flight over the lines. I consider this too much for thirty minutes of fun and decide to admire them from the viewing tower. A bus drops me off at the Panamerican highway, in the middle of the desert. A small iron tower, about 4 floors high, leads to a platform from which two huge figures can be seen: a tree and a pair of hands. It's incredible how the lines, only one foot deep, have been conserved for so long in this dry desert. Almost for a century research has been done on the origin of the lines. According to Maria Reiche, a German mathematician who researched the lines for sixty years, the lines were built to lead the way to underground water aquifers. The lines are thus a collective notebook leading the way to the scarce water sources for the people in the desert. Besides, some of the lines are supposed to have marked the sun's position at the beginning of a new season.

One of Maria Reiche's friends and former assistants, Viktoria Nikitzhi, gives one-hour lectures about the history of the lines. I'm visiting her lecture and meet here with a French guy. She appears to have interesting viewpoints, a bit deviating from general opinions. 'I'm from the cosmos', she answers upon our question where she is from. During her presentation, two of her little cats jump into our laps. 'The lines are in great danger, because people don't respect nature', she repeats several times. It makes me feel frustrated and surprised at the same time. 'Why would the lines be in danger after lasting thousands of years,' I question. But obviously, as she explains, nearby natural destruction has significantly risen the risk of floods. 'Floods could destruct the lines in just a split-second. Very few funds are available for conservation and research,' she adds. 'Tourists just come for a day and take a flight and visit the planetarium that just brings up the feel-good stories.' It makes me feel humble, to be able to enjoy this marvellous yet vulnerable piece of history.

The day after these new insights I straw around in the peaceful and sunny town of Nazca. The Peruvian national selection play the quarter final of the Copa America and win, so cheerfulness is omnipresent. In the evening I decide to go to the 'controversial' planetarium, where an astronomer gives an interesting, slightly different, outline upon the background of the lines. We go outside to look through a telescope and look at different constellations. It's really interesting, because the Southern sky is totally different from the stars we see on the northern hemisphere. I can now easily pinpoint the Southern Cross! We can also see Saturn with two of its biggest moons and through the telescope I take a gorgeous picture of the almost full moon. In the end planetarium, though a bit touristic, proves a nice experience.

That night I leave Nasca for Arequipa, Peru's second largest city. Arequipa is the city of the eternal blue sky. 360 days a year the sun shines here. And it seems to be true, as I did not encounter one of the five annual non-sunny days. From Arequipa I book a tour to the Colca canyon. This is said to be the world's deepest canyon and worth three days of exhaustive trekking. It's an extreme site, as it gets hot at days with hardly any shade, whereas at night it freezes deeply into the negatives Celcius.

On our first day we're picked up at 3:00 a.m. Yeah, that means it's early. We drive for three hours to our breakfast and then another good hour and a half to a viewpoint from where condors can be admired. But I don't see anything. Our guide explains us the condors will show up once the sun rises over the canyon. We set off to the crowded but magnificent viewpoint. Then around 9:00, out of nowhere, the first pair of condors appear. As having just checked their Swiss watches they silently traverse the canyon, making use of the ascending air currents. We continue our tour and start hiking at around 10:00. Our first day mainly goes downhill. Although that doesn't sound that intense, it really is as the trail is full of rocks and the sun is burning high in the sky. At night we stay at a lodge on the slope of the canyon, withstanding the incredible cold.

On day two, the route is more or less flat. Our guide Steven, has been a guide for nine years, not just in Peru, but in many countries in Latin America: in Colombia, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile and Argentina. He tells me about his passion for mountaineering and he says he has plans to travel to Europe. He has been saving money for nine years now, to travel to Europe next year and spend a few months here. Touched by the way he aspires and lives his dream I invite him to Amsterdam to show him around. A girl in our group tells me she used to have two full-time jobs to be able to travel around the world. 'That sounds crazy, why did you do that?', I utter. 'Because it's my dream,' she simply answers. It's the only true reply and I realize that everyone in our group is doing the same. Each of us has the desire to explore, to experience new things, to see the unknown, to challenge himself. Everyone is here, not just to see and enjoy, but to chase his dream. With this intriguing insight in my pocket I move on on my tour through the canyon.

The third day of the trek is by far the toughest. We get up at 4:45 to start hiking at 5:00. This is essential, as we have to go all the way up, before sunrise. It's a tough and steep climb, many people end up sitting casually on a mule's back. We arrive at the top by 8:00, just at sunrise. Three days of trekking have exhausted our bodies, but have enlightened our spirits. Full of new energy to spark my dreams I happily return to the city of Arequipa.

Así avanzando (por) el Perú

After Cuenca it seems time to head south to Peru. So on Monday morning I decide to take an early bus to Máncora, Perú. This is a nine-hour bus ride, with the border crossing at Huaquillas. Although I've never done this border crossing before, many stories that circulate among South American travelers and on the internet would make you believe that this is the most terrifying border crossing in South America. It is often said it would be very chaotic and thus easy to get scammed and ripped off. You could spend a good couple of hours reading these stories. So kind of preoccupied I embark on this journey.

After a good six-hour drive the bus arrives at the border zone. The driver drops us off at the Ecuadorean migration office where we get our exit stamps. This is still a few km ahead of the actual border. Although this takes a little longer than I expect, everything seems fine. No scams or bribing yet. A good thirty minutes later we're picked up by the next bus. This bus takes us to another building which apparently is a second Ecuadorean migration office.Here we're supposed to hand in the Andean immigration card that we have just filled in. All right. The officer seems to have some trouble with his desktop computer and has been staring at his screen for at least fifteen minutes as the line in front of his desk is growing and growing. After a while, he presses the right button and I get another stamp in my passport, don't ask me why. Drugs police and dogs are searching around and finally we're ready to board the bus again. Now we're taken through Huaquillas, the border town. And that's wat it really is: crowded, chaotic. I could imagine getting lost in this crowd hadn't I been safely on this bus and it gives me a good feeling. The real border is nothing more than what once used to be a river with a bridge that crosses this dry sandbed. 'Bienvenidos al Perú' says the sign across the 'river','meaning I just left Ecuador. I'm in Peru,but the world doesn't seem to have changed a lot.

Or does it?

In Peru the landscape quickly turns brown and dry. Compared to Ecuador it seems like a desert. We drive another two hours (after another stop and search) to the beach town of Mancora, where I spend three days on the beach. In Mancora -like in most Peruvian towns- most taxis are motortaxis. They're cheaper than regular car taxis (they'll usually take you somewhere for 2 or 3 nuevo soles) and a bit more spectacular. Similar to Ecuador is all national propaganda in the media. On my final night in Mancora I watch the Copa America soccer match Colombia vs. Argentina with some people in my hostel. During the live broadcast, every now and a while, the reporters are supposed to exclaim some commercial message or 'propaganda'. For example 'Thank you Movistar for telling us the time' or in Spanish 'Construyendo 6200 km de nuevas carreterras. Así avanza el Perú' (constructing 6200 km of new roads, that's how Perú moves on!). Although very disturbing (you can't follow the actual game) it's quite hilarious to hear these messages, as they don't make any sense in the context of the game.

From Mancora I take a bus south to Chiclayo on Thursday. This road goes through a dry and desolate coastal area full of dirty oil refineries and then straight through the Sechura desert. It's kind of bewildering to see the landscape change so drastically. Even more astonishing is the visible amount of dirt, poverty and trash: it's literally everywhere. On both sides of the road, everything is full of plastic bags, bottles and paper. Nobody seems to care. Why should one, whose main priorities are food and housing?

On Friday I explore the nice city of Chiclayo and travel to the pyramid ruins in Túcume, thirty kilometers north of Chiclayo. I take part in the following contest: how many people could fit in a mini-van? Although suprised by the result, I'm not sure if we won it, but I'm sure we beat every Western-European standard! The pyramid (ruins) of Túcume are situated in a very dry area. A viewpoint offers an majestic view over what once used to be the powerful settlement of a lost civilization.

Though distinctly different from Ecuador, I'm enjoying my time in Peru. Despite the great amount of visible poverty and dirt, the great majority of the people is very friendly and most cities are a pleasure to visit. During my time off, I kill some time watching the Copa America games with Peruanos. Checking and marking every bill I get for change, as there are so many forged ones, I spend a lot of time checking out new places along the Peruvian coast, making my way south to Lima, further east to Bolivia and final stop: Rio de Janeiro!