Author: M

What do you mean you don’t travel with Vegemite?

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Day 2 started with me being annoying with the late night clomping around by the other 2 sharing our dorm. I forgot to mention in the last post that when I returned to the dorm last night, R was on the floor sick as hell. She had returned to the dorm before me, and seemed to have an adverse reaction to the alcohol (don’t worry, she wasn’t drugged or anything, she just doesn’t handle spirits well since a few health issues). She’d thrown up on her top bunk and to their credit, the 2 that would later annoy the crap outta me were kind enough to look after her. The next morning, we were due to pick up our Olympic tickets. I had made my mind up prior to Rio that everyone had to come to pick the tickets up with me, or I wouldn’t hand over their ticket. We’d read on forums that people picking up their tickets from CoSports were waiting over 5 hours to get them at prior Olympics. We’d purchased ours through a different company as we had to be a little creative in getting Opening Ceremony tickets when the Australian allocation had been exhausted, but I was still wary that we’d face the same issue and I didn’t want to be waiting by myself while the others got to explore Rio. Luckily everyone came along, and miraculously, it didn’t take 5 hours, it barely took 15 minutes. I didn’t even bother faking a Singaporean accent, the staff didn’t care (long story short, we bought the tickets via the official seller to Singapore, but you had to live there to technically buy the tickets, so I had to pretend to be a student temporarily studying in Aus. Oh, and the company selling to Singapore? They’re based in Sydney…). Along with our tickets, we got 2 nifty pins  to commemorate the games. 

RIP green sunnies, you were iconically “Maz”. You served me well for a pair of eBay buys.


Once the tickets were in hand, we went back to the hostel and put them under lock and key. Naturally, V was still hungover and wanted a nap, and R was still feeling ill. Not wanting to waste a beautiful day I decided to head out for a walk along the beach. I invited M along otherwise I knew he’d just bum around the hostel and play a game on his phone while V napped. We headed down the road to Ipanema beach and just walked the whole length, taking in the sights, namely the very fit people playing soccer or volleyball on the sand. Getting to the end of the beach, we hiked up the rocky outcrop that hinged between Ipanema and Copacobana. Along the beach, there were people hawking their wares, you could get everything from hammocks, to Brazil paraphernalia. I finally caved when we got to the lookout, my trusty green sunglasses had cracked at some point during the Galápagos cruise, and I MacGyvered a bandaid fix (literally) using sports strapping tape I had in my first aid kit, but it was time to get a new pair. I dearly wanted another green pair, but I like my mirrored lenses, they prove handy when you’re trying to peeve on someone without them noticing… I ended up getting a blue/black pair with blue mirrored lenses for the pricey sum of R$10 (that converts to around AU$4..), and of course, one of the arms came off within 5 steps from buying them. Luckily they pop back in pretty easily, though it would come off fairly often for the rest of the trip. Still, they were better than nothing, and my gree sunnies were looking a little worse for wear. 

We’re pretty spoilt in Perth, Ipanema and Copacabana were nice, but nothing compared to beaches back home


We continued on to Copacabana and stopped by the official Olympic merch tent in search of a pin for M, and I was hoping to find a patch to add to my collection. Instead, I ended up buying 2 sets of the official Olympic Lego kit that let you build the 2 mascots. The plan was to buy 2, one to keep and build, the other to sell when I got home. I’ve learnt some Lego sets have an astronomical resale value, I have the limited edition “Women in Research” set which cost about $75 when it first came out, sure it was pricey for such a small set, but it sold out pretty quickly online, and goes for almost $200 now. Good thing I got 2… Anyway, I figured this set would be no different (I would later cave and give my spare Olympic set to my niece and nephew to enjoy). Shopping safely secured in my backpack, we decided to turn around and head back to the hostel. But not before stopping at one of the beachside Cafes to enjoy a fresh coconut. Naturally, we somehow found ourselves at the one bloody cafe that had insanely loud live music. Still, the view was nice despite the constant disturbance by roaming street vendors, one of which was was peddling hash and pot. I mean, who still does hash? We tried to politely decline, but the dude was pretty pushy, eventually I just lost my cool and told the guy to fuck off. I mean come on, there’s only so many times we can politely say no to the same guy, and he kept escalating the type of drug. Mate, if we weren’t interested in hash or pot, we’re definitely not going to take up your offer of coke. Sadly this situation would repeat itself a few more times whenever we’d walk along the beach, no wonder that dumbass Australian guy ended up dying from whatever random drug he took in Rio a few weeks prior. 

Not exactly the greatest meal, but at least I got to watch the game.


We made it back to the hostel to be greeted by the others in a much better mood. Since we’d all skipped lunch, we went for an early dinner, though I think V actually wanted an early dinner so he could be back in time for Happy Hour and to go clubbing again. Ever the indecisive bunch, and also somewhat pretentious (note: I refer to the other 3), we had to find somewhere to eat that was on the nicer end of the scale. I finally forced them to just pick a bloody pub that was full of tourist so I could get a damn drink, and also the pub was screening a soccer game. At least I could watch a game while the others continued to whinge about one thing or another that they hated about the hostel/South America/Brasil/other racist and pretentious crap I had to listen to for 3 weeks. We ended up ordering far too much food (which again, would be a running theme with them), and rolled back to the hostel. I stuck around for a little while at Happy Hour, but quickly retreated back to the dorm in hopes of falling asleep before everyone else so I could avoid the snorers (assholes came in at an ungodly hour AGAIN and made a racket).

Really guys, you DIDN’T bring vegemite on a 2 month trip?


I woke up mildly grumpy the next morning and grumbled about people turning the lights on when others were asleep. I was countered by V with the reasoning “that’s just hostel life”. Let’s just file that phrase for a bit shall we, because on this trip, karma played out beautifully, it should be an Olympic sport or something. Today was going to be a big day. Between people having hangovers, and pure laziness, we pretty much had to cram sightseeing into one day. And of course it had to be the bloody day the Opening Ceremony was on. The German girl from the first night gave us a handy tip to visit the big ass Jesus statue first thing in the morning when the crowds weren’t as intense. So we went down for a quick breakfast, where the others were excited to find out that I had brought a tube of Vegemite with me on the trip. For such lovers of Vegemite, I was surprised that none of them had ever thought to bring a tube, that’s WHY they sell it in tubes. Who actually buys a tube for home consumption? You always get a jar for home, even if it’s a small jar. I always figured the tube was for travellers or camping. I watched in mild horror as the others liberally applied the precious little tube of Vegemite to their toast, silently cursing at them should I run out before the end of the trip.

They actually provided rubber mats for people to lie on when trying to get an “arty” shot. A selfie was enough for me.


Once breakfast was up, we jumped into an Uber and headed to Christ the Redeemer aka the big ass Jesus statue on the hill. Turns out it wasn’t as easy as jumping into an Uber to get to the statue. We were stopped by a roadblock who seemed to have a monopoly on the busses that would drive you PART WAY. We had to fork out R$30 for a return minibus to the “tourist centre”, where you had to pay yet another R$37 for entry and for ANOTHER bus to take you up the rest of the way. We finally reached the base of the statue after a rather nerve wrecking bus ride up the steep mountain and some super tight turns. I was greated by a surprising sight, there were escalators. You could take escalators all the way to the top platform. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, religion has always been pretty good at commercialising themselves, at least it meant the statue was somewhat accessible. We took some time to take the cliche shots with good old Jesus, and admired the panoramic view of the city before making our way back down to wait for the bus back to the tourist centre. Ok correction, THREE of us made our way back down to the bus stop to wait for R to finish taking a million bloody photos of every single bloody angle of the statue and the city. Not surprisingly, the stairs back down to the bus stop were littered with stores hawking tacky souvenirs, again, I tried hunting for a patch for the collection to no avail. It would seem that patches weren’t particularly a thing in Brasil. 

Their loss, I found some pretty cool street art further up the Boulevard


Naturally, we had no idea where the final minibus was dropping us off, it just kept driving through the original roadblock. It finally dropped us off at some random park where we’d spend the next bloody 30 minutes waiting on V to google where the Olympic Boulevard was, despite me suggesting the address my map app spat out, multiple times. Getting more and more annoyed I was relieved when he finally ordered an Uber and we were on our way. The Olympic Boulevard was a new development along the old port area that had multiple giant screens for the public to watch the games and almost all the main sponsors seemed to have some sort of tent/building. We had arrived around lunch, and the others ware complaining about needing to eat RIGHT NOW. And because they’re all smart people, no one had any cash, each expecting South America would accept card everywhere. So we went in search of an ATM, luckily we passed a bunch of food trucks that seemed to take card. Crisis averted, we settled for some unsatisfying hotdogs before continuing our exploration of the boulevard. It was a worrying sight, stages were still being set up, sponsor tents were still being prepped, nothing was really open besides the giant Coke pavilion. Bear in mind, the Opening Ceremony was later that night, Brasil definitely seemed woefully underprepared for it to start. Part way through exploring the Boulevard, V announced that he wanted to return to the hostel for a nap before the Opening Ceremony, and that they still needed to get the Olympic transport cards that would allow us on the dedicated line to the stadium. As per usual, the others followed suit and thought a nap was a good idea. 

I loved this set of artwork opposite the Coke pavilion


Not wanting to waste the day, and still keen to explore the rest of the Boulevard, I ditched the bitches and pressed on. I figured I’d find my way back on my own. By the time I finished exploring the Boulevard, I had 2 failed attempts to catch public transport back. First was with the light rail that I think wasn’t running yet (or that’s what I interperated from official looking guy at the station), second was the bus that never seemed to arrive. I had fired up an app that was meant to tell you how to move around on public transport all over the world, but I don’t actually think bus 111 existed. Luckily for me, a bunch of local Uni students were spending the day in the city and were heading to Copacabana. Thinking I was a local, they tried to ask if I knew what bus went there, but I was as clueless as they were, or more so because they could at least ask the bus drivers when they stopped. Eventually they gave up waiting and asked if I wanted to join them to walk to the train station, I figured why the hell not, they seemed like a friendly enough bunch. The tallest chick was doing most of the talking, she said the others were a little shy, so she was fielding questions from them to ask me, they mostly wanted to know about Australia, and what it was like to travel overseas. It was cute, the tall girl was really keen to visit South Korea one day because she was in love with K-Pop, and the lone guy had always wanted to go to Australia. I passed on whatever tips I had about travelling to Australia, and they in turn shared tips on what local alcohols I should really, REALLY try. Though I noted their advice as a bit of local mischief, whenever one of the girls suggested a local liquor to try, the rest would laugh. I figured it was similar to Aussies telling visitors that they should try goon or Passion Pop if they were interested in really cheap drinks. 


The students got off a few stops before me, and instructed me to get off at the end of the line, and from there I could walk back to the hostel. Turns out the mum of one of the girls worked at the hostel, so she knew exactly where it was. Before saying goodbyes and thank your, they asked if they could add me on Facebook, in case they they ever make it to Australia. I was happy to oblige. Reaching the end of the line, I fired up my trusty map app and realised how far the walk would be, I contemplated catching an Uber, but thought better, the walk would be good. Ipanema was definitely yet classy end of Rio, it probably had more designer stores than Perth CBD. I finally reached the hostel a little puffed and sweaty, only to discover the others only got back about 30 minutes before me, despite parting ways over 2 hours ago. Of course they were still keen to have a damn nap, which meant none of them were too keen to get to the stadium when gates opened at 4.30pm. They tried to justify getting there at 6.30pm since “websites were saying the ceremony doesn’t start til 8pm”, despite the tickets saying it started at 7.30pm. I tried to argue that it would be a nightmare trying to get in with the crowds and security measures in place. I’ve been to my fair share of stadium concerts, and those were bad enough. But alas, no, I was outvoted, their laziness won. I silently cursed at them again. It’d only been 3 days since joining them, and I was already hating it.


By the time everyone had their nap, then their shower, it was almost 6pm. Instead of taking the train LIKE EVERY GUIDE RECCOMENDED, we took an Uber. And of course, there were a million roadblocks, we couldn’t even get close to the stadium. Our Uber driver just kept going round and round in circles as I watched the time get later and later. We finally got the guy to drop us off at the first train station that he could reach, and even that was a drama. Finally arriving at the stadium train stop, we discovered that they had closed the direct route to the stadium, and we’d have to take an alternate route (which btw, I warned the others of, it was written in the free guidebook that littered the breakfast area of our hostel). But of course, no one fucking listened/cared. So we had to walk ages to get to the entrance, the route initially led away from the stadium, then parallel to it, but 5 blocks away, and finally 25 minutes later we got to the entrance. We literally got to our seats as the countdown to the start began. I think my ass was in my seat when the countdown reach “7”. 


How much longer am I travelling with these guys?

Um, what’s with the Singaporeans working Rio airport?

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True to form, I slept the whole way to Rio. I was initially disappointed that I wasn’t able to change my flights to have a layover in Sao Paolo so I could watch the Matilda’s play Canada. Well I could change my flight for a obscene fee of over $1500, but I guess it was lucky I didn’t, the Matilda’s didn’t fare too well in that match. Landing in Rio was a slightly bizarre event. Exiting the place, I was greeted by Olympic advertising everywhere. Team China must’ve also landed just before my flight, so there were Chinese officials and athletes everywhere. All of whom annoyingly thought they could ignore and bypass all the queues and push their way through to the front. I had some choice words for a few of the athletes who tried to push me out of the way. So yeah, I may have told some Olympic athletes to “get fucked”. Let’s hope they didn’t get a medal either. Anyway, while waiting patiently to get through immigration, I was mildly confused by the shear number of Singaporean accents I heard from the airport staff ushering the crowds. Seemed like Rio airport shipped over a whole bunch of workers from Changi airport to help during the olympics. I will admit, I cringed everytime I heard the accent, I’m just not a fan. Let’s face it, when was the last time you heard the words “Oh my, that’s a sexy Singaporean accent”?

The Olympic passport stamp was pretty cool.


Finishing up with immigration, they offered a special Olympics stamp for your passport along with the standard entry visa stamp. I thought that was pretty cool. Thankfully picking up baggage wasn’t too much of a hassle, but I was then stuck with how to get to the hostel. I was keen to avoid a taxi knowing it’ll probably eat into my budget, which I anticipated would take a fair beating once I met up with the gang. They’re uh, what you’d say has champagne taste on a passion pop budget. Ok, maybe that’s a bit harsh, it’s not like they don’t have the money, it’s more that the money happens to come from credit cards and loans, whereas I prefer not to dig a debt hole. A taxi would’ve been feasible and relatively cheaper had the jerks been nice enough to wait THE HOUR I arrived after them, but no, of course not. That’s just too hard, they were tired after flying from Paris. This would pretty much be the theme for the next 3 or so weeks of travelling with them. So you can expect entries right up to the end of Mexico to be full of whinging, but trust me, much of it was warranted. Anyway, back to the transport issue. V had sent through the hostel confirmation a few days prior, which thankfully included directions on taking a bus, which turned out to be a mildly condesending affair. I trudge over to the information booth and was given vague directions of “go out, turn right”. Great customer service guys, such a wonderful welcome to all the tourists coming for the Olympics. I managed to find some bus “stall” spruiking a “premium bus” service with free wifi (note: wifi was a lie!), again, the chick managing the stall wasn’t exactly helpful. It would’ve been nice if she actually told me which line to wait in for the bus to Ipanema, so instead I stood like a dope in the line for a bus that was definitely NOT going to Ipanema. To top things off, once I finally boarded the right bus, they didn’t have change for a R$50. I get it, the bus only cost R$16, but considering the line started at the international airport, you’d think they’d be prepared for people who’d only have large notes from the ATM or currency exchange. Moving on, I was finally only my way to Ipanema. Thankfully Hannah had shown me the handy map app that didn’t need data, I kept a close eye on when I needed to get off, but clearly not close enough, I ended up about 2 blocks away from where I needed to get off, so armed with an oversized backpack, and a unnessisarily heavy daypack, I slowly made my way to the hostel.

Notice anything wrong with this booking?


That’s where things went from annoying, to joyfully wonderful! (I hope you can sense the sarcasm here, because I was certainly ready to murder someone when I went to check in). So I can’t quite remember if I had mentioned in an earlier post about the accomodation stuff up for Rio. Long story short, we put off booking accomodation in Rio til the last minute in hopes that hotels would start releasing rooms for super cheap once they weren’t selling as part of a bundle with tickets to the games. It’s pretty much what happened when the FIFA World Cup was held in Rio. That didn’t happen, so I trusted the others to book somewhere since I had patchy internet connection everywhere I went. Turns out my trust was misplaced as I got a proud email detailing the confirmation of where we’d be staying, there was just one problem. The confirmation was for 3 beds. There are 4 of us travelling. See the slight problem? So I shot back a mildly confused email to V asking if it was perhaps an error on the hostel part (see I was nice, I played naive and assumed that the hostel must’ve been the one to make the mistake, even though I knew full well those assholes forgot to book me a bed). I got an reply that he’d fixed the situation, and that it was just a brain freeze on his part. Ok sure, could he send through the new confirmation so I’d know how much I owed upon arrival. Silence. No response from when I arrived in Easter Island. I knew something was up, he was avoiding me. I just didn’t know why. Well I soon found out when I went to check in to the hostel. My booking was a night short. The guy at reception was like “ok so we’ve got you from 3-6th”. Um no, no, 3-7th. Pretty sure we’re all checking out on the 7th. So not only did they forget to book a bed for me to begin with, when they tried to rectify the situation, the place didn’t actually have enough beds for the whole stay. Awesome friends right? And this was all BEFORE I had even seen them. Eventually the hostel was able to find a bed for me on the last night, but it was at an elevated price because I didn’t book it via the website. I mean for fucks sake, I was just over the situation by then. By the time I finally completely check in, I was thankful the hostel had a lift as we were on the 4th floor. 

The 30mins of free capirinhas definitely helped my mood


And guess who I bumped into when I walked out of the lift. V had come down to look for me, assuming I was due to arrive soon. Naturally I yelled at him as soon as I stepped out of the lift. I calmed down and told him that they’d be paying for my dinner that night. The rest of the afternoon went a little better. Once I got settled and had a bit of a rest, we all headed down to the hostel bar for free capirinhas during happy (half) hour. Multiple heavy handed free capirinhas later, I was feeling fine and happily chatting the night away with a Brit and German whom I ended up out for dinner with later that night. I was sad to hear the Brit was leaving the next morning, we got on pretty well. After the pizza dinner, I hung around the hostel bar for a few more drinks before heading back to my dorm, only to be greated by the most bloody annoying people I’d have to share a room with (besides the gang). I can’t even remember their names, the girl had been napping when I arrived, and I hadn’t met the (very clearly gay) guy yet. But they were certainly party animals. I was getting ready for bed and they were just getting ready to go out. Which is fair enough, Rio is meant to be a party town, and there were no judgements. Except when they came back to the dorm at god knows what hour and decided to TURN EVERY FUCKING LIGHT ON, and make a complete racket, and turn the air conditioning off instead of using their blankets. Oh, and the guy snored. Actually, so did V and R. Fuck. My. Life. I barely got any sleep. One of the nights, V had gone out partying, completely ignoring his own stern rules for his partner to never go out by themselves for safety reasons blah blah blah. The very first night after the rest of us went to bed, he continued partying, went to some club, took who knows what, ended jumping into a cab (by himself) and got dropped off on an unknown street because he couldn’t remember exactly where the hostel was. Lucky for him, 2 guys from the hostel had jumped into a cab behind him and made their cab stop when they saw him get out of his cab. They all ended up going to to Ipanema beach to get something to eat. SO he pretty much did what every safety warning tells you not to do. But rules never really apply to V, he’ll make everyone else follow them, but it’s optional for him. Again, this would be a common theme for the rest of the trip.

So yeah, that concluded my first day in Rio. Capirinhas were good though.

Bathtub laundry and finally a shower without thongs

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Sorry folks, no photos in this update.

Im currently writing this on the van ride to my flight over the Nazca lines, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. After spending the day exploring Easter Island in our trusty Jimny, Hannah and I arrived safely in Santiago around 8.30pm. Being a decent human being, I offered (more like insisted) that Hannah crash at my hotel room I’d booked for my short stay in Santiago to prep myself before meeting up with the gang in Rio. Her original plan was to just take a bus into the city and find a hostel, but I thought it might’ve been a tad dangerous that late at night, thus my insistence. When planning the trip, I figured a little luxury was needed after backpacking alone for 3 weeks, and camping the last 4 nights. Shear laziness meant booking into the Holiday Inn direct across the road from Santiago airport despite hotels further out being significantly cheaper, but this was a splurge I was willing to make. For some odd reason booking a room with 2 double beds worked out cheaper than a single king. Go figure. But it worked out well, it meant I was able to offer Hannah the spare bed in exchange for her paying for dinner and some beers. Once checked in, she seemed pretty glad that she took up my offer. I was going to be there for 2 nights and planned to do fuck all, except laundry. By now, I’d gone 3 weeks without being able to wash anything, my initial investment in merino wool clothing certainly paid off. Hannah was flying back to Houston the next night, but planned to explore Santiago during the day first so I offered to shelter her main pack in the room while she was out exploring. 

Once we dumped our bags, the plan was to get dinner before getting too settled, so we crossed back over to the airport food court and ordered dinner to bring back to the room (I was a cheap date, all I was craving was fries and tomato sauce). The best part of the whole thing was finally sleeping in a bed that wasn’t a bunk, didn’t move, or wasn’t on the ground, it was shear bliss. Though maybe even better was finally having a shower without thongs, and not being terrified of the number of butts the shower curtain had touched. There was a distinct feeling of joy and contentment from both of us after we each had shower and settled into the crisp hotel linen.

It was cute when Hannah started exchanging texts with her mum, updating her on her final night before heading home. Her mum thought I was a sweetie for offering to share my room and Hannah reckons it was the first time she felt safe and clean in a while. I’m building up some good karma here, hopefully it’ll come in handy in the future. I stirred slightly when Hannah’s alarm went off in the morning and when she left early to explore the city, but I was too comfortable and barely registered it. When I finally did peel my eyelids open, I had a serious case of procrastination about doing laundry. Stomach rumbling, I opted to get food instead. I had seen the food court list burgers on their menu the night before and I was again hankering for something familiar and a good old burger would hit the spot. I mean a burger for breakfast wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, it was my luxury time before meeting up with hectic friends. Well, turns out it was a bad move, firstly, the burger was grossly overpriced, and even worse, it was terrible. I was thankful I managed to find a convenience store that stocked instant noodles I thought would appease the budget for dinner. All this was after scouring the airport for the elusive Subway store listed on the airport website, which turned out to be beyond the departure gates. Sigh. Back in the hotel room, with a half eaten burger in the bin, I forced myself to finally do laundry ala fill bathtub with hotel shampoo and body wash rained water. While I had earlier rejoiced in my merino wool clothes not smelling even after 3 weeks, the colour the bathtub water turned told a very different story. Everlasting refills and rinses later, I finally hung my clothes over every surface I could find to dry. While normally merino wool is reknown for being quick drying, it’s certainly not the case when completely wet and you’re not meant to wring it out. Awesome. At some point in the evening I was getting a little concerned nothing would dry in time for my flight the next morning, I attempted to at least dry my socks via hair dryer. That, didn’t last long. I honestly couldn’t be bothered and just wanted to crawl back into bed and read the news on my iPad (lame I know, but I like reading the news). 

The whole time I’m in my luxury bliss, I was seriously getting a little anxious about meeting up with the rest of the gang in Rio. After initial trepidations, I had really enjoyed travelling by myself. Sure, it helped that I was lucky to have a good group on the Galapagos tour, but I’d been really enjoying taking things at my own pace. I don’t think I would’ve ended up on my random hike on Easter Island if I’d been with my friends. They’re not exactly the most adventurous bunch, and well, they have champagne tastes on a craft beer budget (this’ll become more evident in updates from Rio onwards). Plus they’re pretty selfish travellers, I was worried about having to pick up our Olympic tickets by myself because they’d come up with some excuse to avoid waiting the rumoured 5+ hours it can sometimes take to get them. I decided then and there that if all of them didn’t come to pick the tickets up with me, I would just leave their ticket with the retailer, and they’d miss out on the opening ceremony. It’s a bitchy move, but history has taught me that I shouldn’t put anything past them. 

Whilst wallowing in self pity, I got a message from Hannah saying she was heading back to the hotel room to grab her stuff and say goodbye. I’m glad I was able to say goodbye properly, she was initially going to leave with everything quietly in the morning so she wouldn’t disturb my sleep, and leave her main pack at reception, but changed her mind when she couldn’t bring herself to pack after the shower the night we checked in. We exchanged details and did the Facebook swap before bidding each other a fond farewell and exchanging best wishes for the next part of whatever we were up to. And just like that, I was by myself again. It was getting late so I packed as much as I could leaving space for the clothes that were still drying and made myself a bath with the last of the soapy dregs left in the bottles. Instant noodles in a cup for dinner in the bath? Utter bliss. 

My final morning in Santiago was an early affair, miraculously most of my clothes had dried overnight, except my bloody socks. So I just crammed them into my daypack just in case they went musty and infected the rest of my clean clothes. Sadly, in my rush, I left my camping fork in my cup of instant noodles, I was mildly devastated. There goes my matching set with the travelling Tupperware. Oh well, if that’s the worst thing I lose on this trip, I got off lightly. So back across the road I go, backpacks in tow, and wait for my flight to Rio.

Who needs road rules?

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Our trusty little Jimny!


Forgoing breakfast for extra sleep instead, Hannah and I stopped off at a local grocery store to buy road trip snacks before hiring a car. I had seen a bunch of cute Suzuki Jimnys driving around town and was hoping I’d finally get a chance to drive one. They’re one of my favourite little off-roaders and if they had a few more luxury extras (just minor things like central remote locking…), I would’ve bought one instead of my current ride. Anyway, we arrived at the rental company and I was stocked to learn, yes, I would finally get to zip around in a Jimny! Talk about a great start to the day. Now, my license may let me drive a manual car legally, but it’s been quite a while since I’ve actually driven one. So it was a bumpy start to our adventure, but at least we were off! Hannah was on road rule duty, making sure I remember which side of the road to drive on. Our plan didn’t quite work, with her forgetting to remind me a few time when I veered a little too close to the other side, but thankfully, road rules don’t seem to be the biggest priority here.


First stop was the crater lake and Easter Island museum where Hannah played tour guide since she’d visited the site a few days ago and sneakily shadowed a tour group. The site of the museum was where different tribes would come to compete in the birdman completion. From the cliff that the museum sits on, men would have climb down and swim out to a nearby rocky outcrop and wait for the first albatross to lay eggs, the first guy to grab the egg and swim it safely to the starting point would be crowned leader for a year.

My HIGHLY accurate map…


Once we had our fill of Easter Island history, our next stop was to be the Moai quarry I visited during my tour. My turn to play tour guide! That’s pretty much how the rest of the day went. Aided by my trusted map that I used for hiking, and an awesome map app that didn’t need data or wifi, we pretty much randomly drove around the whole day, stopping if we came across something interested, bypassing others that didn’t seem worth it. We did a bit of a photoshoot at the iconic Moai row. So rather than bore you with a blow by blow account of the day, here’s a bunch of photos. I will add that we ended the day watching the sunset from the campsite, a fitting end of a fun day.

Let’s see how long it takes to reach their destinations. Also, I hope I wrote the addresses correctly…


Oh, and before I forget, I had promised my Galápagos family that I’ll send them a postcard from Easter Island, so the next morning, before I flew back to Santiago, I headed back to the main drag in town in search for a post office. And true to my word, 2 postcards are on their way to Canada and Switzerland! Turns out you could stamp your passport with an Easter Island stamp at the post office, but I had left my passport back at camp. Slightly bummed, but I still have hundreds of photos that well and truly makes up for it.

The little stowaway in Hannah’s tent. The camp cat certainly knows how to make itself comfy.


That one time I hitchhiked 

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I’m guessing the title has you a little intrigued, but you’ll have to wait for that bit. So day 3 on Easter Island was an early affair. I had signed up for 2 dives that morning, I wasn’t particularly sure what marine life I’d be able to see, but I figured I might as well give it a go while I was there, I mean who knows when or if I’d ever visit again. Deciding to go to the dive shop via the scenic route meant a leisurely stroll by the coast and passing 2 Moai by the dock. The water in the dock was crystal clear, it was like looking through glass. Once I was suited up, the prospect of the clear visibility underwater was making me excited, nothing worse than not being able to see underwater. What I experienced underwater however, was a bit of a let down. I’d read the forums and Tripadviser, and all had warned me that there isn’t much marine life around the island, but I put it down to the lack of larger animals, surely an island would have abundant and varied fish life. Well no, no it does not. The main draw card of the first dive was the underwater Moai that had been sunk for a movie, but there did seem to be some sort of reef structure around it. It was a little bizarre, it was pretty devoid of colour. Imagine a reef with colourful fish, but on a black and white tv. There were a few larger fish happily cruising around, but the main fish were essentially these long skinny fish that seemed to prefer swimming vertically. Occasionally you’d see a black and white version of a yellow tang (that fish from Finding Nemo in the dentist’s office who thought her reflection was her sister). But everything were dull colours. 

i think i got a little lost, reckon this dude could point me in the right direction?


While getting snaps of the sunken Moai was cool, I didn’t think the marine life warranted the 2nd dive, and luckily, the dive shop let me cancel it. Finding myself finishing up significantly earlier than planned, I thought I’d go check out a couple of Moai a little further up from the dive shop, near the cemetery. But first I had promised myself an ice cream after my dives after I spied a gelato shop next to the dive shop on my first visit! Feeling adventurous, I opted to go for a flavour made from local fruit. I can’t quite remember the name of the fruit, but if it’s what I’ve spotted growing everywhere on the island, it’s similar to a guava. Ice cream in hand, still wet rashie and board shorts on, I ventured off with my trusty (and highly accurate) map in search for adventure. Yeah, so what started as “let’s just visit the close by Moai”, turned into an impromptu 16km hike in search of more Moai, a spot or 2 of caving, and trespassing on someone’s paddock. By the time I reached the initial Moai I was looking for, I thought, “it’s only 12pm, let’s just keep going”, bear in mind, this was completely unplanned, so I didn’t exactly bring a ton of water. But the weather was amazing, and it was too nice to go back to camp. So earphones in, “The Best of Rhianna” blaring, I was off!
The hike took me along the Easter Island’s dramatic coastline. Gorgeous cliff faces, paddocks full of wild horses, the random dog that would accompany me for periods of time. After a while one Moai kinda just started looking like the last Moai, and while the backdrop was beautiful, I was hoping for something new. Luckily, along the trail, there happened to be a cave that you could explore. Unfortunately it was crowded by some tour group, so I went off to the edge of the cliff to watch the raptor-like birds soaring in the wind. I was surprised to find a guy down the cliff doing a spot of fishing. I had no idea how he managed to get down there, it was a steep cliff, but he had a pretty good set up. The rocky ledge he was standing on, happened to have a natural holding pool that he’d filled with water and could store his fish in, instead of a bucket. I think he was just fishing with bread as bait on a hand line, and he was pretty successful. I watched him count up his catch and he had about 50+ fish. It seemed like a tranquil spot, punctuated by the odd large wave that would crash over his ledge, sending him running to the cliff wall. 


Eventually most of the crowd had left the cave entrance and note, by cave, I mean a hole in the ground that you can climb down, and if you were prepared, a headlamp would’ve been mightily handy. Of course this guy clearly wasn’t, so I used my trusty iPhone torch (which BTW illuminates fuck all) and ventured inside. Mildly concerned about what the fuck I just walked into since it was pitch black, and I didn’t even know where the cave led, I pressed on, and was handsomely rewarded. Eventually sunlight pierced the darkness from 2 tunnels leading to the openings in the cliff wall facing the ocean. It was hard to capture how cool it was to see the ocean appear as you walked down each tunnel, but it was beautiful. 

Where the hell is the next Moai?!?!


Emerging from the cave I pressed on in search of the next Moai site, naively thinking it would be a restored site and easy to spot. Think again, it didn’t indicate on the map that the next site was unrestored, so it just had a weathered Moai that had been toppled over, that was also hard to spot from the trail. I found myself most likely trespassing on someone’s paddock and dodging horse poop to get to the site. After finally finding the bloody site, I tried to take a selfie with some of the wild horses, but they were being jerks and refused to play nice. So once again, I was off.

A well deserved rest after 16km


Arriving at the next cave, I was silently praying that the banana trees at the entrance would have some ripe fruit for me to pinch since you know, I didn’t think to bring snacks on my impromptu trek.  No such luck, oh well. This cave had a little more of a traditional opening, but with a less impressive payout. Since it was inland, the cave had a few fire pits that would’ve been used by local tribes back in the day, and there was a part of the cavern that had collapsed, allowed a secret garden of sorts to grow when the sunlight penetrated. Leaving the cave, I found myself at a fork in the road. I could go left and continue on to one last site with 7 restored Moai, or I could turn right and head back to town. Figuring I’d already gotten this far, I may as well press on, plus I still had a bit more time. Walking to the final site, I was passed by smarter people who had rented mountain bikes, but slowly yet surely, I made it to my destination. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I took the obligatory selfies with the Moai, then had a much deserved lie down on the grass, sans footwear. Just my luck, the weather was about to turn, and I could feel the beginning spits of rain. I guess that was my cue to start the hike back to town. Joy. By then I had come to the last dregs of my water too, and there just so happened to be a random bottle of opened Evian on the side of the road (yes, I know, it’s probably not Evian in there), presumable fallen out of someone’s bag as they rode around. Lamenting at my decision not to use my special filtering water bottle that morning (we’re talking heavy duty, filters bacteria and viruses that cost me a small fortune, type bottle), I decided to keep the bottle as a dire-straits back up plan to starve off dehydration on my 3 hour trek back to town. 

The resident camp dogg who LOVES belly rubs and slept outside my tent most night


Well, turns out I didn’t need it after all. About 10 minutes into the hike back to town, a old ute slows down next to me, and stops to offer me a ride back to town. I politely declined, but the dude insisted, and through my lack of Spanish, and his lack of English, he indicated that town was a LOOONG way off. Realising I could either face a 3 hour trek and arrived well past sunset, or hitch a ride. Laziness saw me accept the guy’s ride, he seemed harmless enough. Here’s the funny bit, the guy struck me as a bit of a stoner when he first offered the ride, and well, turns out he was. My first clue was the bloodshot eyes and general easygoing and relaxed nature potheads get, then there was the obvious whiff of pot in the truck. Oh and the thing that really convinced me my new friends liked to indulge in a bit of Mary Jane? The fact his back seat was COVERED in repotted marijuana plants. Finding the humour in my situation, I just rolled with it. On the ride back, between my lack of Spanish and his lack of English, we managed a bit of a conversation where I shared I was from Australia, and that he was a bit of a pot farmer, and turned I down his offer of pot. He kindly dropped me off at the main square in town, and I managed to make it back to camp well before the sun began to set. There was a couple that were biking the same trail I was hiking, and I think they were pretty confused when I got back to camp before them, considering every time I’d arrive at a site, they’d just be leaving it. After dumping my stuff at the tent, I bumped into Hannah, and shared my very own hitchhiking story over dinner. So there you go folks, my first unintentional hitchhiking story. Just don’t tell my mum, she’s freaked out about me being in South America as it is.

Hey Mr Bunny Rabbit, where are you?

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Ok, I lied in my last post, we have definitely not caught up to real time yet. We’re even further off. Blame it on bloody Chile and Brazil having a different power plug than the rest of South America, but I digress.

Best extra $100 i ever spent. The flight is longer than the one between Perth and Sydney!


When doing my research for this trip, I came across a pro tip I’m going to share with you. If you ever want to go to Easter Island, book it via the Chilean Lan.com website. Seems like they change their prices according to location, so what would’ve been an AU $900 return trip in economy only ended up being a AU$600 return trip in business (economy would’ve been $100 less). Can I get a hell yeah?! Reaching Santiago, I was able to check into my flight straight away, looking forward to decent wifi and relaxing in the business lounge was immediately shattered when I realised Santiago didn’t have a Lan lounge in it’s domestic terminal. Feeling heartbroken, I wandered aimlessly around the terminal til I realised I should probably get some cash for Easter Island, I’d read ATMs were a little hard to come by there. I had a small lovers tiff with the ATM, it refused to give me my damn money, continually spitting my card back out. Conscious of the growing queue behind me, I was ready to start banging on the thing, but thankfully it gave up and graciously spat money at me. Feeling triumphant, I head off for my flight. Needless to say, I napped the whole way to Easter Island, missing the lunch service.
After standing my ground and possibly elbowing a few pushy people, I retrieved my bag from the crowded conveyor belt. I was greeted at the airport by a free airport transfer to my hostel and sized up the others who I would be staying at the hostel with. They were all couples bar myself and another girl. Feeling hopeful that another lone traveller might mean someone to hang with, we drove to the hostel I picked specifically because of its cliff side location (and relatively cheap price). I made myself familiar with my trusty tent that I’d call home for the next 4 nights, and tried to strike up a conversation with the French couple I arrived with. I was hoping that they might be open to teaming up for a tour since my initial research alluded that most of the island tours were private and needed a minimum of 2 people or one person had to pay for 2 and I wasn’t too keen on that. Yeah, they weren’t exactly friendly, polite but pretentious was the vibe I got from them, so feeling rejected I grabbed my daypack and headed off in search of food instead. The town of Hanga Roa is thankfully pretty small, you can walk everywhere. I managed to find the dive shop I’d read about on TripAdvisor at the far end of town and signed up for a dive to check out the underwater Moai and another to see the reef at another part of the island. I had wanted to do a night time dive, but they said conditions weren’t great at this time of the year for night dives, devastating I know! I enquired about tours at a few places and eventually settled on a random company that seemed to cover the main parts of the island. This time feeling accomplished, I finally went food shopping, but everything is pretty pricey for South American standards. Most of the food has to be flown/shipped to the island, even the fresh food, and almost everything is in aluminium style bladders instead of glass bottles or in tins to cut down on weight. I stopped off at a supermarket no bigger than a deli, and bought some staples. A bunch of local eggs, pasta, what I thought was pasta sauce, and also what I hoped was tinned tuna, on the way back I stopped off at a bakery that also sold deli meats and cheese and managed to gesture my way to buy a couple of bread rolls and a small cling wrap bundle of what looked like salami. Fun fact, they sell bread by weight, not by number of rolls. As I made my way back to the camp grounds, I contemplated renting a car for a day to explore the other parts of the island that the tour wouldn’t cover, but I couldn’t quite justify the AU$90 price just yet, a bike on the other hand seemed like a more reasonably option at AU$24. I decided to defer the decision til after the tour.

Can you spot him?


The tour turned out pretty informative and fascinating. We visited the crater-side quarry that all the tribes considered a neutral space where they wouldn’t fight. That’s where they’d carve the Moai statues, each tribe had their own side of the quarry. The Moai would be carved in place, then chipped off the foundation rock and ‘walked’ upright down the hill to its final destination (sort of like trying to move a fridge forward a little where you do a swing and shift move). There are 4 generations of Moai with evolving features, the earliest were smaller and rounded, whereas the newest are bigger, with squarish faces and longer ears. The Moai depicted tribal leaders who had passed, and out of the 1000+ statues, only a handful were women. It was really cool to visit the quarry and see all the half buried statues. It was only discovered a few years ago that the statues had bodies buried beneath them, according to the guide, the statues that were half buried were never meant to be moved any further, they most likely had an imperfection or the tribe ran out of resources to pay the people moving them (who also happened to be the same ones that carved it). 

The first of MANY selfies I took on the island.


We also visited the iconic site with 15 restored Moai on their Ahu (platform). Turns out, back in 1991, some rich Japanese guy who owned a crane company visited Easter Island and his dream was to have a picture of one of his cranes lift a Moai for restoration. So he met the residents of Hanga Roa and offered Us$1 million to restore the 15 Moai. Now there’s a small plaque at the site with a picture of his crane lifting a Moai, I guess some people dream of lifting Moai, and others just dream of frying a few eggs for dinner that night.


I’m not going to lie, the kitchen at camp wasn’t the greatest, and the cupboard with utensils they’d assign me had a distinct aroma of mothballs. After a a good scrub and copious amounts of detergent, I smother the once nonstick pan with butter and happily fried off some eggs whilst simultaneously swearing when the copious amounts of butter started spitting at me. Task accomplished, I set about making a sandwich when a girl, who’s been sitting along the bench that ran down the kitchen, came up and asked to use my buttered pan. We struck up a conversation over dinner, and it turned out that she’d tried to rent a car, but couldn’t once she realised it was only available in manual, plus she’d found a place that only charged AU$50! She also shared her hitchhiking story about her attempt to walk back from the other side of the island and resorting to thumbing it when the hike turned out bigger than expected. Sensing an opportunity, I offered to split the cost of the car since I was licensed to drive a manual and we settled on a date for our adventure. I went to bed with my spirits lifted that I’d have the opportunity to rent a car to explore and that I’d made a new friend! (Take THAT standoff-ish French couple).

Stop the presses! (Real time update)

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I thought I’d share a real time update since it might be a while before I actually get to this part, and also, I needed a good whinge. So far, Brazil has been my least favourite country, more specifically, the Amazon. After going on a nature cruise in the Galápagos, I will admit, I was a little spoilt. It was a very well organised tour, my Amazon one however, was not. But more on that in the real blog I’ll chuck up in a (long) while. I just wanted to share that I’d finally succumbed to illness. I have flu-like symptoms, can’t stop sniffling, can’t breathe through my nose, am constantly feeling lightheaded and tired. I’ve narrowed it down to 3 possible reason I feel like absolute shit.

  1. I’d been on the go since I left Perth. 3 weeks travelling and doing something pretty much everyday until I met up with everyone in Rio, where things took a MUCH slower (read: frustrating) pace. My body must’ve thought it would’ve been a great time to let me get sick. Though, this reason is a little flawed because technically I should’ve showed signs in Santiago where I literally did not leave the hotel except to get lunch.
  2. I’d dreaded meeting up with my friends for the 2nd part of my trip, and the sheer stress and frustrations of travelling with them made my body give up. I’m more inclined to believe this to be the main culprit for my general state of feeling crap.
  3. Side effects from taking the anti-malaria medication, plus getting heatstroke during the Amazon cruise. Logically the most likely culprit, but I’m still going with reason #2.

Considering I landed in Lima about 4 hours ago, and miraculously felt better is leading me to believe reason #2 to be a sound deduction. I should also mention I landed in Lima alone as the other insisted on going to see Iguazu Falls, meaning 3 flights, and travelling for 23 hours instead of the 10 hours it took me to get from Manaus to Lima. So I’m in quiet solitude for the next 8 hours. Plenty of time for a real update eh?

Resisting temptation

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Hello high blood pressue? I think this empanada is calling for you.


We’re finally starting to catch up with real time now. My Galápagos affair was coming to an end, it was my last night in Puerto Ayora, and I found myself wandering the streets in the evening on a determined hunt for a souvenir t-shirt. Before I embarked on this adventure, I promised myself that the only thing I was allowed to buy was an “I love boobies” shirt, classy, I know. As I walked down the main street, stopping briefly to watch the locals play volleyball on the local public court, I could feel the familiar rumbling in my stomach. Gone were the days where dinner was automatically at 7pm, and a buffet magically appeared (I also realise that I yet again failed to take a single photo of the spread put on for us for every meal on the cruise). I decided that I would be good and head to the supermarket (the one with the $12 rum) and grab something cheap. My resolve would be tested as I passed by a pizza joint, and after seeing a snap chat of the Kiwi’s fish & chips earlier in the day, I was really craving something familiar. But no, I walked straight past pizza, and the fancier restaurants (by fancy I mean dinner would’ve cost me $10) because the cost of scuba diving had really given my budget a beating, and I was on the hunt for something cheap. Miraculously I made it to the shops and walked out US$4.64 poorer but with enough powdered ice tea and Tang to last me a while, 2 custard filled buns, and a random local version of Lemon Powerade. On the way back to the hostel, I happened to come across a little hole in the wall run by an older lady, selling empanadas, I caved and bought what I deduced was a tomato and cheese one. What it should’ve been was tomato, cheese and a fuck ton of salt. I’m getting thirsty just thinking of how salty it was, but it was still pretty good for $1.80. Whilst saving a bit by resisting a fancy meal, I still managed to spend $25 on a ‘I love boobies’ shirt and 2 Galápagos patches on the way back. Good job self.

Yes I do! Guess what shirt is getting worn for this year’s Pride!


Soon, I found myself making my way back to Baltra airport. Which means in Ecuadorian time, a 4 hour journey that would otherwise take 1.5 hours. Initially the plan was to just take a taxi to the canal, but after the expensive night buying souvenirs, I decided to take the economical route via bus. So a cheap $2 taxi ride to the bus station, and because things don’t particularly run on a ‘schedule’, so I was sitting around, waiting for the bus to get about half full before the driver finally took off. The ferry was a similar story, it only needed to cross about 8 traffic lanes worth of water, but we couldn’t leave til it was half full. Thankfully the final bus to the airport didn’t wait around, I was already cutting it a little close. My flight was due to depart at 10.05am and I made it to the airport at 9am… Bear in mind, I checked out of my hotel at 5am… Turns out, I needn’t he worried, my flight was delayed. Excellent, I only had about 24 hours worth of travelling across 5 flights to get to my next destination. On the plus side, I bumped into a Swiss girl I’d met on my tour to Quilotoa, so we hung out while she waited for her cruise guide to pick her up at the airport.
A little while later, I was off! Even better was getting an entire row to myself, time to spread out and have a nap!

Is a $12 bottle of rum really worth it?


Mildly annoyed when I was awoken from my nap, but we had arrive in Quito. Just 2 more flights to go. Yay for me. Alas, check in for the next flight didn’t open for another 2 hours, so I went exploring for free wifi. I desperately needed to call the gang to find out what was going on with accomodation in Rio. I planted myself at a table in the food court (big mistake), in front of KFC (even bigger mistake), while I prayed to who ever God would listen that the wifi would be good enough for a FaceTime call. Turns out someone must’ve been listen (albeit half arsely) and the faintest signal came through and finally a patchy call to the gang. They assured me they’d look after the accomodation, they’d found a good hostel that would be perfect (let’s remember this point shall we?). All this was happening while I was wishfully staring at some KFC, and also watching another pair of travellers try and polish off their bottle of cheap rum before their flight… 

The wetsuit dance and a little bit of Bollywood

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While the daytime land adventures were beautiful, my favourite has got to be once you put your head underwater. Our first venture into the wet wilderness was a bit of false security. The water felt reasonably warm enough to dive into with just your bathers, but thankfully, the Nemo was equipped with 3mm wetsuits (though on some snorkels, a 5mm wouldn’t have hurt). Heading to the Galápagos, there was one thing at the top of my list that I really wanted to see, and that was to watch a marine iguana swimming underwater. But a little more about that later. 

We were clearly still feeling the YMCA vibes from the night before (Rabida, Ecuador)


For anyone who’s ever worn a wetsuit, you’d know it’s not fun putting it on. You’re essentially doing a wetsuit dance of pulling the thing past your thighs and hips, it’s like a jump and pull move, followed by a bend over and stretch, to gather enough material to get your arms in and zip it up. Or you could just do what the Scottish lady did, and have her husband pretty much lift her up by the wetsuit to shake her into the thing. You could hear the groans, huffs and puffs as everyone tried to squeeze into their wetsuit, usually taking a break once you get it past your hips, then the inevitable sigh of relief when you finally have it zipped up. The dance was performed twice a day, and was usually worth it. It doesn’t hurt to have been taught the belly drum, and being entertained by the false chest muscles an inflated wetsuit can give some.

Aye, one of the few non-blurry shots and it’s from the first day! (Galapagos, Ecuador)

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I think I was the luckiest one on the ship when it came to snorkelling, I seemed to stumble upon moments no one else had a chance to experience. The fish were mesmerising to watch, but it was the marine animals that really stole the show. I was glad I invested in a GoPro a few years ago, I managed to capture some cool videos, but alas, it’s not the greatest at underwater photos. You need an incredibly steady hand to capture a clear photo underwater, a hint of movement, usually from the current moving your arm, for the shot to turn out blurry. Still, I happily swam away with crystal clear videos of playful seals, a large fish attacking a sea urchin, swimming alongside majestic marine turtles and even of a penguin hunting a school of baitfish! Some may not be too fond of the octopus, sea snake or white tip Galápagos shark videos though (don’t worry, white tip sharks only hunt small fish).
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But the absolute highlight of my time underwater is definitely the moment I stumbled upon a marine iguana swimming from rock to rock, and chowing down on algae. The one and only time I saw one, and the only one on the ship who managed to experience it. Sure, it’s not as cute as watching a bunch of marine turtles eating seaweed (which I also managed to capture and comes a close 2nd fave), but it’s something that’s unique to the Galápagos. It’s the only marine iguana in the world, and while it’s easy to see them swimming on the surface along some areas, finding them underwater is a random chance during our snorkels. I didn’t even see one when I went diving after the cruise.

The fisherman in me was dying to throw a line in (Santa Fe, Ecuador)

Post cruise, I stayed an extra few days so I could tick another thing off my bucket list, scuba diving in the Galápagos. I must admit, it was a little disappointing. I didn’t get as close to marine animals as I did while I was snorkelling, I think that’s probably because the animals tend to stick closer to the rocks near the shore, whereas we went diving along the edges of reefs. I did swim amongst a massive school of fish, it was a little like parting a curtain of fish, so that was pretty cool. A 7mm wetsuit was definitely needed during the dive though. You could SEE the cold water currents. You know how on hot days, you can see the air rising right above tar roads? Or when you mix a sugar syrup into water and the viscosity is different? It’s the same with cold water currents, at first, I wasn’t sure what it was. But as soon as I swam into into it, fuck my life it was cold. It cut right through the 7mm wetsuit, I had to swim straight out, everything was starting to go numb. I’m sure if I was a bit more confident diving, and had more than 15 dives under my belt, I could’ve gone to a more advanced dive site (I heard that group saw a sunfish at Gordon Rocks, I was super jealous!), but I’m still a bit of a nervous diver. It just means I’ll have to go back…😉

A Swiss, German, Canadian, and our Guide put on a show (Rabida, Ecuador)

The days I was alone post cruise were a little lonely, I made some awesome friends during the cruise that certainly added to the experience. I had to say goodbye to them once the cruise ended since I was the only one staying on for a few days and they were dearly missed. I reckon the cruise would’ve been a very different affair if I had been stuck on a boat for 8 days with just families and retirees. Instead a small band of mischiefs stuck together, spending nights playing cards, watching the sunset, splashing around, and having one memorable night that we were paying dearly for the next morning. It all began on day 2. We were docked at Puerto Ayora to see the Darwin Research station, but had a couple of hours after to explore the town. Needless to say, the Swiss, Canadian and Aussie hit a bar. A few cheap cocktails later (where I tried my first Pisco Sour), the 4 of decided we should get some booze for the boat. Perusing the budget options at the local supermarket saw us finally settle on 2 cheap (and by cheap, I mean US$12 each) bottles of rum, and 2 giant 3L bottles of Coke. Who knew Coke came in bottles that big! Thus began a beautiful friendship. Most nights where I wasn’t feeling a little sea sick, I spent playing cards with the group at the back of the boat. One particular night would see the Germans and good girl Norwegian join us for shenanigans, oh and so did our guide, Oswaldo! By that night, we were already down to one bottle of rum. The time stamp on my photos from the night tells me this was only day 5…but never fear! Oswaldo came to the rescue and gave us his and the bartender’s secret stash of cane liquor, and the Swiss brought out mini bottles of some liqueur. The night provided vague recollections of being interrogated about crushes, the Norwegian and Swiss girls pimping their “insecure” friends to me, and taking photos with cute girls to so I can use them to make other girls jealous (because we all know that totally works…). The thing I love is how cheesy music transcends country borders, it wasn’t long before we were all belting out the lyrics to the Spice Girls, Aqua, YMCA, and other classics. Waking up the next morning was pretty amusing/painful, we were up past 4am, and bear in mind, breakfast is usually at 8am, but the photos and videos on my phone, man they were brilliant. I was reminded of how the good girl Norwegian turned into a slutty Swede (which is also my new fave insult), and became our Khaleesi after riding on the back of someone wearing a red sleeping bag (don’t ask, I couldn’t even give you an answer). Some Bollywood music made an appearance that night, and everyone broke out some sweet stereotypical Indian dance moves. 

Breakfast was a painful affair, sunglasses were a common sight, and the older half of the group were highly amused. No wonder I missed them after the cruise. Oh, and whoever said the Swiss are neutral, uh huh, sure, sufficient peer pressure saw me msg someone I probably shouldn’t have, and was left feeling a little sorry for myself. But then I remembered the epic hangs I’ve had in the past 8 days, and thought, I’m on an adventure of a lifetime, who needs girls?! 😊 So Cancun next year right guys?

I left my heart in the Galapagos

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It seems apt that I’ve made myself comfortable on the floor of Baltra airport as I wait for my delayed flight out of the Galapagos to recap the amazing experience I’ve had here. Funnily enough, as I got onto the ferry to the island that houses the airport, I bumped into a Swiss girl (who’s name I’ve of course forgotten) that I met on my tour to Quilotoa. She’s just starting her Galapagos adventure as I end mine.

Biggest surprise of the trip? Discovering the Galapagos has flamingos! I’ve never seen one before! (Galapagos , Ecuador)


Let’s backtrack 11 days, when I hopped onto my Avianca flight, where I was lucky to score a much coverted window seat, and sat next to someone who’d turn out to be my cabin-mate for the next 8 days on the cruise. Early concerns that my cruise would be full of retirees were soon banished when I met a few others around the same age waiting with our guide at the arrivals hall. Baltra airport itself pretty basic, it reminds me a little of the Kalgoorlie airport, except luggage is still hand delivered. My boat was to be a relatively small group, only 15 passengers, made up of a German family of 4, plus one of the daughter’s friend, a Scottish couple, a Swiss bro/sis duo, a Norwegian family of 4, and a lone traveler like myself from Canada.

Hey Mr marine iguana (Galapagos, Ecuador)


The bus ride down to where our boat was docked showcased a landscape that wouldn’t be amiss in rural WA. It was dry and sparsely populated with leafless small trees and shrubs, with an odd cactus thrown in for good measure. It seemed vastly different from what I imagined the Galapgos to be. But once we hit the dock, I knew that was just early impressions. A chilled iguana had made itself comfortable on the side of the road, sunning itself like it was on Cottesloe beach. It was only the first of many, MANY, more iguanas of the trip. But naturally, you get excited about your first everything… While waiting for the dinghy, I was transfixed by a black pelican! It wasn’t all black, but it was the darker version of the ones we get back home.

What a typical day looked like. (Galapagos, Ecuador)


The boat itself was a catamaran, I may have picked it because I really wanted to be on a pretty sailing yacht. Whilst there were many more cheaper boats, the Nemo II was sailing an itinerary that would hit some of the best islands for wildlife, plus it was pretty…and boy, was it worth it. The journey to Nemo saw us don an attractive life vest (a habit which would become second nature by the end of the cruise), climb aboard a dingy to be ferried off to my home for the next 8 days. The refreshing glass of freshly made juice that greeted us would set the tone for the hospitality, and excellent food amazingly pumped out of the tiny swaying kitchen. After early introductions and just enough time to have a peek at our living quarters, were were off for our first exploration. This was to be a daily ritual. There’d be a briefing every night, with explanation of where we’d be visiting, and what animals we’re likely to see. Everyday would be a case of 2 hikes, and 2 snorkelling opportunities, essentially, breakfast -> hike -> snorkel -> lunch -> hike -> snorkel -> dinner (repeat). Oh, and after every snorkel, we’d come back to freshly made juice/hot chocolate and snacks, so we well and truly ate our way through the islands too. 

Hehe, boobies of the blue footed variety. Naturally, they just refused to pose when a camera was on them (Galapagos, Ecuador)


On the nature side of things, it was a nerd’s dreams. It was fascinating to see all of Darwin’s finches, and the slight  differences between them. None of the animals were afraid of people, they were perched close, or even on the hiking trails.  Sure, the landscape wasn’t as green as it would be in Summer, but I was there for the animals, and winter meant marine life were more active too. I watched an orange land iguana perilously scale a cactus to chow down on the leaves higher up, and wondering if the little guy was eventually going to lose his grip and fall (he didn’t, but according to our guide, even him climbing a cactus was a rare occurrence so we were pretty lucky). I giggled like a 14 year old boy whenever someone said “boobie”, which, when you’re in an area renowned for blue footed boobies, happens quite a lot (and surprisingly never gets old). There were also some stunning viewpoints, and landscapes, from a red beach, to Darwin’s lake, and the alien-looking lava fields. Let’s not forget the crown jewel of the Galápagos, the giant Galápagos turtles. We visited a sanctuary on Santa Cruz where the turtles could grow and live in peace. They were just roaming around everywhere, there were a couple chilling by the side of the road, and a few others in the thick jungle. Come too close to the smaller guys, and there’d be a “hiss” as they retreat back into their shell, a little like the air being let out of a tire. Darker, black marine iguanas would be splayed on their bellies on warm bits of earth after coming back from their swim for food, spitting salt water towards you if you came too close.

This flightless cormorant made its nest on the steps leading to the lookout of Darwin’s Lake. It was busy sitting on a lone egg! But see what I mean by the blues of its eyes? (Galapagos, Ecuador)


I don’t really know how I could capture the magic of the Galápagos in words. It’s just one of those things that is a case of you have to be there to experience it. I managed to get close enough to a flightless cormorant to see the beautiful shade of blue in its eyes, sat back on the deck of the Nemo and watched the sun set in the horizon, laughed at the cheeky/smart sea lions that lazed around the fish market in Puerto Ayora waiting for scraps when the fishermen came to clean their catch, and took adorable selfies with animals that would be Facebook profile pic worthy.

How adorable is this guy, just casually napping on the bench at the Puerto Ayora dock? (Puerto Ayora, Ecuador)