The Valleys (and dance floors) of Vinales

After sleeping off most of my sunstroke, I felt somewhat better (but looked a great sight worse) as I headed into breakfast and meet the rest of my tour. L and I headed down to what was the best breakfast spread I'd seen all trip - mountains of choice, from freshly made omelettes to cheeses to a bakery section, to fruit... there was everything.

We went out to the foyer, assuming it was the main foyer not the foyer of the joining hotel which we were staying in. Again, not a lot of detail was given about where to meet etc so we just took a stab. L had met the Belgian guy on our tour last night, somehow, so we found him easily. We also didn't know how many people were on the tour, so just stood there looking at everyone questioning if they were with us. Finally, 2 slightly frazzled looking Irish girls stumbled in with their backpacks and I knew they were part of our party. There was just 1 person left, but since her travel agent hadn't notified her of the change in hotel, she had stayed at a different one and had to be picked up separately. Quite a unique character, this poor Kiwi woman had a stressful start to her tour but still had a smile on her face.

We met our guide, a local who usually does the bike tours of Cuba but had broke his arm and was re-assigned to us minions. He took us to our bus and introduced the driver, a sweet father of several daughters who had to drive over 8 hours to get to Havana and work with us for the 8 days. We drove through the richer suburbs which used to be for white people only, now it's a mix of people living in multi-flat rentals within mansions and the odd rich person still hanging on to the old glory.

Because of the delay picking up the last person, we were running late for the cigar factory and had to pass on it, hoping to get there a little later in the tour. We stopped at a random place for a drink and cheap Havaianas - again, being given a pina colada with rum as well as the bottle of rum in case we wanted to top ourselves up -  then headed on to get lunch and do some sightseeing. We headed to a big mural painted in the 70s, illustrating the prehistoric history of the area and apparently the biggest mural in the world, or something. We had an included buffet lunch, the first of many that gave the basic options of pork, beef, chicken, fish and lobster. Lobster - yeah! Just as common as fish around here. Oh, and men singing Guantanamera.

I rode a bull to the restaurant area. Because I could.

Our guide, A, revealed to us that day 2 of our surprise tour was to include a horse ride through the agricultural land around the mural. The horses, if I could call them that, were a bit on the thin side and the man who helped the girls on didn't even bother adjusting their feet into the stirrups. Not that there was much point, the horses weren't going any faster and were only interested in eating the grass along the track - not that I blame them... My horse refused to go faster than a quick walk and I got to the point of no more kicking, and just sat back and tried to take in the scenery around me.

The other girls hadn't really ridden much before, so were giggling and screaming behind me - I was fairly bored. Because the group was small, our guide came along on a spare horse and even he remarked at how crap it was. We stopped for a breather at a random little cottage where a lady asked us for drink, no doubt an extra charge, and none of us were keen. I think it was coffee she offered - dear god, coffee in heat like that? She must be loca.

When we'd finished, it was back on the bus and out of the heat. It was straight to the pool area when we got back to our hotel, which we had already dropped our bags off at, but when I got there one look at the water, and the kids, and the thought of when it was last cleaned, and all I could manage was a quick dip to cool off. Even writing this now I shudder. Instead, B from Belgium and I just enjoyed the view of the valleys surrounding us. The hotel, a soft pink colour, reminded me a lot of the big Blue Mountains hotel which is also situated on the edge of a cliff looking down on dense bushland and sweeping valleys. It was a calming place, and a nice way to spend an afternoon.

Before we knew it, it was time for dinner so we got ourselves dressed and ready for what we all hoped would be a lovely after-dinner dance in the town of Vinales. Dinner was at a lovely spot overlooking the valleys again, but with the added beauty of the sun setting as we sat at our tables. The platform we were on was built out from the edge so we were literally bathing in the fading light in a world all our own. Well, we shared it with a fair few mosquitoes and a loud Cuban group to our left, but otherwise a world all our own. My legs remained untouched (by the mozzies I mean, not the Cubans) because my horrendous smelling insect spray from Mexico had leaked through my bag that sat at my feet.

After dinner, we were whisked into town and to the main place open for business. There was a band already playing, a Cuban outfit with horns, saxophone, piano and a bevvy of singers. We had a boogie then sat as other singers came out to the dance floor for their moment to shine. All pretty talented. Every now and then a local would come up and ask for our hand on the dance floor, I wasn't going to dance with just anyone, so I enjoyed watching for a while. Then some of the band came down and coaxed a few of us gringos onto the stage, where they demonstrated some Cuban moves for us to mimic. I must say I was one of the only white girls who could move her hips, but even so, when we found ourselves on all fours watching the singer rotate his pelvis around, I started questioning just where this was going.

A DJ followed the band and other performances (including some random dance troupe who were a tasty little treat on the eyes), and we danced. And danced. I finally relented and let some of the locals have a dance with me, not wanting anything more from them but also relishing the fact that every one of them knew how to salsa before they could walk. I certainly didn't know all the moves but it was a very welcome change to have someone leading ME on the dance floor for once.

I sweated. And sweated. And sweated. At one point I had to go outside (even though inside was roofless anyway) to have the bouncers flap a piece of cardboard in my face to revive my senses. I definitely couldn't wear this dress anymore without a trip to the laundry mat. Our guide had come with us for the night, one of just a few times he would join us, and arranged for a taxi to ferry us back to the hotel as our driver had retired for the night. And just in time, we were pooped!

Drunks are the best (horse)rides

Another well-paced day where I was given more responsibility, a good sign I'm getting used to the joint. It's interesting here, there is a lot of chivalry as I've mentioned before - like always taking a woman home, not making her do hard labour and helping carry shopping etc - but when I'm the only one of 3 guides left to do the last few hours of the day, and the evening sunset ride, it's good to feel like one of the guys.

As far as I knew, the sunset ride was always done by a guy yet today, after lunch, guide I went home and D finished at 3 as he usually does. Which left me to finish feeding the horses, clean and fill the water drums, clean up after our busy cruise ship morning, then after all that, take a couple out for a 5-7pm ride. I didn't mind, I can do all the work, and it was good he trusted me to do it. He could have asked I to stay and let me go at 5 - but I know I am preferable to D, he isn't really the best at dealing with customers.

I'd had 2 rides before the night ride, which had been quite generous in tips - one 2-hour ride with 4 people and another 1-hour with 4 people. I like the tours 1-4 people max, it allows me to talk with everyone and give good service. And I hope I am getting more of the non-cruise ship official rides because I'm better at giving that service - the cruise ship rides are SO BORING most of the time. So D can do them and I get the more interesting work.

So I got my lunch break, did some good rides and managed to show my boss I can do the work just like the boys (even telling him I didn't need any help by the Haitians that work the garden when I was feeding - I'm a big girl!). Having said that, I'm totally cool with people moving the hoses over for me and turning the water on etc. Won't look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.

Happened upon a horse with a badly infected eye today, so I caught her and told the boss. Hurried him a little towards the end of the day as he hadn't come up, and I thought it looked pretty nasty, so when eventually he came it was a bit scary to hear him say she had somehow scratched the whole top layer of her eye off and may lose sight permanently in it. I felt bad for not noticing earlier, but it may very well have just started pussing up today. Hey, at least I noticed at all, no one else did.

Then came the night ride. These guys were already slurring their words before they got on the horses. I actually had to hurry them up to finish their drinks from the bar so we could catch the sunset. Hey, they could normally take their time, it's just ticking away at their expense, but not when I'm working overtime and dinner awaits (still to be cooked, I mean, but awaits - days of living with a chef are over for now). But I could tell it was gonna be an easy ride to lead.

And that it was. We started with a short ride, ending on the trail that heads straight towards the sunset, then got off and I filled their glasses with champagne before hunting for firewood. Me Jane, you Tarzan. Eventually got the fire started with some bushy kindling, as the newspaper wasn't giving me much love, and set them up with marshmallows to roast. It was close to an hour before we got back on the horses, the sun well and truly in bed and the evening fire-flies giving a romantic touch to the evening.

Curved around here n there to finish the 2-hour ride off nicely, I could tell they were swaying a little so I kept it simple. My horse was also a little apprehensive riding in complete darkness, but I was thoroughly enjoying it. Not a bug molested me (such a different experience to my regular nights out here haha), the air was cool n crisp, the sky opened up above me and the stars twinkled in amongst the fire-flies. I was full of marshmallow and the beauty of nature - one happy chappy.

Their tip, plus my overtime, took my daily earnings outside of salary to $90. Pretty sweet considering I'd factored in about $150-180 of tips per week and that was just from one day. But I won't get ahead of myself, there are days when I get nothing so you just never know. That day I was pissed off it turns out they weren't tipping because of all the traffic they'd sat in, and nothing could appease them. And then the cruise refunded all their money, so Seaside got NOTHING for all the rides we did for them! What a crock!

So it really depends on how the journey is to get to us. Sometimes - well, mostly - the traffic is so heavy we have to take them through the private land next door. But the day I described before, they were pouring concrete so they couldn't sneak in the back door. All this I learn now, would have maybe made me a little more understanding instead of pissed off on that day. But hey, once you get me going...

Turned down an invitation to go to La Bamba on the beach tonight, essentially I had been work for 11 hours and I just wanted to chill out. Don't really feel like going out... but probably tomorrow night, as Thursday I'm off! Maybe I could try out another bar...

Eww, my hair smells like campfire.

Duck dick

I kept drinking beers in the comfort of my workplace, with the sun firmly set under the sea, and got talking to a Spanish woman that exercises one of the private horses here. It was weird, there was something so attractive about her... maybe it was the Spanish twinge she had to her perfect English, the way her jodhpurs hugged her tiny legs or because she still wore her high heels from work because she forgot her farm boots.

I'm not saying I wanted to go home and fuck the living shit out of her, no I just had a great conversation with her and thought she was a very cool older woman. And I'm half a world away from my love, so maybe I get twitchy sometimes. And I want those legs. Speaking of being skinny, I feel I've lost a bit of weight (or at least toned up) on this island already... which is strange because my diet isn't crash hot and I haven't been doing a lot of exercise, but I guess work is my new exercise. So that's a positive.

I got burnt today, mainly on my arms, so I greatly look forward to the night I have ahead of me in bed. Sweaty, restless, awkward... Excellent. By the time I post this surely I will have endured this ordeal, and had to get up an hour early to start at 7am. Life is grand sometimes. But, on the plus side, I am getting the best colour of my life on my legs - who knew I could get so brown! Just don't put me next to someone who actually tans.... lordy lord!!

Oh, oh, and I saw a duck penis!! Hideous!! It's all twisted like curly fries, freaked the hell out of me! I looked over when the boys started laughing, because 3 of the drakes (male ducks) were getting it on all confused like. And when the realisation hit them that it was against nature, they fell off each other and one had his ding dong hanging out. Gross.............

So a couple of quiet observations about the island so far, given I've been here just over 3 weeks. Can hardly believe it's been that long... but the weeks kept passing. The island is pretty lowkey in terms of going out. The bars are not the highlife standard I was picturing. And there certainly isn't any blues bar or burlesque scene I could get myself into. In fact the nightlife is nothing short of inane and tourist-driven. There is no sense of "Caribbean culture" in the bars and clubs I've visited, no cool little reggae corners or funky hip spots - sometimes I think it's more entertaining to stay at home and play with the cat I've befriended back at my apartment.

I've also realised that I am here for one main purpose: to enjoy my job and the surrounding environment. Natural environment. I'm not here to pick up, to enjoy nights dancing around the poles on bars or make friends with guys who - despite what they say - just have one thing on their.minds. No, I am, in all probability, not going to make any more friends than my workmates and not going to socialise beyond what they are doing.

What I will do is appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds me, never forget how lucky I am to work in such an environment and see as much of it as possible. There are some great ferry rides and even plane rides to nearby islands, and also some things I can do on this very island that I won't ever experience anywhere else. I look forward to that, adding to my list of life experiences. Let's hope I can see it all in 6 months.

A (kinda) productive Saturday

My first day off. I was looking forward to a sleep-in, but after struggling against the habitual morning noises and the rising heat and sun, I finally could keep my eyes closed no longer. It was 7:18am. 3 minutes after I usually wake up for work. Crap.

The rest of the day was a little more enjoyable... I managed to stay in bed a couple more hours, then have a leisurely breakfast before bearing the already steaming sun for another failed attempt at finding a store that sells SIM cards. Seems most shops don't open on weekends, which is GREAT considering I have the weekend off to get all the things done I'd not gotten done during the week. Welcome to Caribbean life.

I did manage to find a cafe with free wifi, which I utilized for a couple of hours, watching the traffic pass ever so slowly on the road. God, that must be frustrating. Speaking of God, and frustration, I have encountered a few times the in-your-face religiousness of some of the people here. Handing out flyers on God outside the supermarket, brandishing their SUVs with "PSALM 3:16" et al, asking me to church in the same first sentence as meeting me. Nothing like shoving a religion down my throat to turn me off it.

Had $80 in my wallet, all of which I managed to spend today on various things so that now if I do go out I have $5 to my name. Awesome.

Hopped on a bus (a minivan not unlike the "buses" of Bolivia etc which stop whenever they see someone or someone needs to get off), battled some traffic and headed to Philipsburg, the town centre of the Dutch side. There were shops galore there, mostly hideous American fashion shops and jewelers, but I did find one place that sold SIM cards. I managed to get one for $20 with $10 credit, better than the deal I would have gotten had I bought the card off the young girl I asked for directions. Trust those instincts.

Now I'm back at my work, using their internet and waiting for the latest tropical downpour to ease so I can walk back without ruining my laptop. Just watched a beautiful sunset, partially obscured by clouds, as a floating suburb cruised by. I swear I could hear the click of the passengers' cameras as they caught one of the most amazing moments nature would deliver them in their life.

I took photo after photo, in an ill-fated attempt to capture what my eyes saw through the shitty lens. And as I sat there watching the sun disappear, I wished upon all wishes that I wasn't alone watching it. That I wouldn't have to go home tonight and sleep in an empty bed. Yes, it's incredible I miss him this much.

Chasing the sun

It was an early rise for us on our first morning on Isla del Sol. The reports of the sunrises there were just too good to pass up, so I made sure I was the human alarm clock for everyone else. The patio of our hostel catered perfectly for such endeavours, and before we knew it, we were huddled around trying not to lose feeling in our limbs while waiting for the sun to grace us with its presence.

Well, I can safely say it was worth it. We watched as the sea, first a menacing navy blue, gradually pulled in the energy of the glowing sky and ruffled out a silvery trail on its smooth surface, like a path directly to heaven. A donkey bayed in the distance, apparently discontent that its view was being obscured by yet another early start going up and down the hills carrying water for the cholitas. What a slap in the face that would be.

After the sunrise, we were energised but not energised enuf to face the 3-hour trek from the south to the north side of the island. So we opted for a private boat, still only a few dollars each to take, and in about half an hour we were in the north. It was indeed more chilled and I kinda prefered it - ESPECIALLY the lack of massive hill directly at port - but I had left all my things (including my warmer clothes) in the south so I couldn`t switch sides. I had, however, left myself open to stay another night when all the others were determined to make it a one-night voyage... so I knew I had time.

While we faffed around in the north, it became apparent that we would much prefer more time to see the pre-Incan ruins and see the much more picturesque (is that even possible??) side of the north, before returning on our planned boat to the south. The original group was staying another day! So the Aussie guys we met said goodbye and trekked back for the boat, wanting to get to Peru as soon as possible given the border dramas at the moment, and the original group of myself, the Turkish brother sister combo, K the Dutch guy and M the English guy were left to walk the 3 hours back.

What a mission. The track itself wasn`t so hard, at times quite hilly, but it just seemed to go on on and on and on. And then we had a whinging Englishman at the back reminding us of this. Haha... nah it was quite funny, I don`t really think he knew what he got himself into by saying yes to the idea. And worse still, every time we got to the "top" of a hill, we saw another behind it - AND we soon learnt that the "welcome banners" at some of these hills were in fact ticket stops where another region of the island had decided to charge us to pass through. Hmph! Should have heard what the Englishman had to say about that one!

Eventually, we had our town in our sights but it wasn`t over yet. We decided to trek to the top of the highest hill to actually catch the sunset this time, since we had another day to enjoy it now, and we set about trying to find a way up. Well, that was a HARD track. Really steep. Had to take unfit breathers every few seconds. Wow, I am bad. BUT not the worst, might I add haha...

At the top, we started wrapping our underprepared bodies with what warmth we could find and waited impatiently for the sun to disappear. And of course there were fucking clouds, weren´t there. All that effort for clouds. Grr.. We did see some of the sunset, though, but bailed pretty much before it was finished because it was getting darn cold. Then on our way home we glanced back at a brilliant purple/blue/pink flash bidding farewell just before being swallowed by the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Bewwwwwdiful.

After the day´s efforts, we were all understandingly tired so we were in bed shortly after 8pm. Even a hot Columbian guy couldn`t keep me up. Sigh. He was beautiful. 1.5 hours later I get a tap on the window to find French F shivering in the cold, having just finished about 12 hours of walking and needing somewhere to stay. Well, I am not good at being woken up, so I was probably a little bitchier than I needed to be to the poor guy, basically yelling that he needed to make a decision - in or out - but that he should just CLOSE THE DOOR. I was freezing. But imagine him! Poor little tucker...

Unsurprisingly, he chose outside instead of sharing my single bed, and then made friends with the Columbians who gave him a sleeping bag and some of their floor. Bless. Meanwhile, I tossed n turned in bed trying to regain the warmth I had before the wakeup and battling against a raging pain in my tooth. This is not normal. I need to see the dentist again.

Gaucho life: maggots n all

Just before I went to bed on my "final" night in the Sierras, I was informed via text message via the gaucho that there was to be no services between La Falda and Cordoba - where the rest of my backpack still was - tomorrow because it is the national holiday, May 25 (Argentina´s independence day). Grr.

So we woke with muddled heads... do we stay another night and get charged by this wretched woman who was still away, OR do we go to ugly La Falda and hope to find some festivities celebrating May 25, OR do we stay to give the gaucho another night of company and get an asado out of it at the same time, OR do we go into town and try to find cheaper accommodation... I was torn. D suggested messaging the owner, asking if we could stay a night free if we helped out about the place - she never responded so we just ended up staying, having waited that long anyway for her response.

C and I took another stroll to the river, this time going a little further down the track to see the now fully sunny mountains open up in all their bountiful glory, me trying to shake the specks of stress curling into my mind... then finally resting on the fact that if we stayed we would most likely not pay much more because the gaucho preferred our company than giving the woman more cash for basically doing nothing. I would have preferred paying full and giving it all to the gaucho instead.

After the walk, and lunch, and a siesta, we joined D in the carelle with the cattle so he could teach us to lasso. Well, his version of teaching... which was to demonstrate just how easy it was by getting the calves a couple of times first go, then thrusting the rope into our hands and pointing at one of the poor little creatures shivering behind their mamas. I gotta say, I was pretty shite, BUT managed to get one around the head 3rd try. After that, I was back to shit. But hey, it was a bit of fun.

Then we stood watch as the gaucho caught the youngest of the calves, just 4 days old, and proceeded to clean out a nasty infection it had gotten from birth I think... which included pushing a pile of maggots out of the hole. I almost vomited. Just when I think I am becoming a little gaucho, a big, cold slab of reality slaps me right in the face. Que grosero. But such is the gaucho`s life.

I was also pissed I couldn´t afford to ride again, and didn`t want to ask in case he said yes and then charged me when we checked out. Eventually, though, I thought fuck it, and the next time he was about to swing his leg over (the horse), I asked if I could join him. Turned out to be a good decision, as we had to circle the property checking the fence for breaks as well as taking the cattle back out, and it was a stunning day to do so. It was nice riding, pretty easygoing and slower than the day before, especially cos I was on a slower horse (no more owner`s favourite for me)... but all in all, a nice ending to the day.

As the sun faded, bringing with it a luminous umbrella of pinks, purples and blues across the sky, we sat on the patio and I kept reading my book about a fat man in Argentina. Funnily enuf, his observations were largely similar to mine, and it reinvigorated the sense of romance in my own writings. So I apologise if these last few posts flowed a little too poetically. But dammit, a girl can dream.

Having resigned ourselves to the fact we were indeed stuck in the Sierras for another night, we enjoyed a national holiday asado with the gaucho - traditional meats, salted to the 9th degree and roasted over hot coals for some time, even blood sausage which I thought was strictly Scottish - and it was nice. The blood sausage remained on the plate, though. The dogs had a particularly nice meal that night. Which is good, since food at that time for the animals was scarce. Apparently none was left, another thing left for the gaucho to organise in the owner´s absence. At first, I was bummed I hadn´t come here early enuf to be a WOOFer - now I was glad.

From a lack of water during the day, or whatever else, I had the onset of a raging headache so I took myself to bed early. Guacho´s face dripped with disappointment. I left the better Spanish speaker with him. And I slept. In my saggy bed. Or tried to.

No way to RUIN this day!! Oh, the glory of puns...

Today tricked me. It tricked me into thinking I was in an Australian winter. It was WAY too warm and the sunshine tickled my face in a way I am not quite so used to anymore. All in all, it made me feel warm n fuzzy in the way only good weather can. And now I want more, more, MORE!!! Bring on Rio, I say.

We spent it productively, getting picked up by a couple of G's friends after our morning schplack, and driving to Dürnstein, a quaint little town preserved in its original glory thanks to donations from the good people of Austria. And so they should donate - the gorgeous blue church it holds and the ruins atop the big hill are deserving of some good ol' tourist exposure.

We, at least, took advantage of that today, heaving ourselves up the hill to the ruin after a scoot around the town, me at least thankful I was working my leg muscles instead of my arms for once. It was a beautiful view from up there, and by that time we were pretty hot - I took the opportunity to undo both my jumper and leather jacket (gasp) then TAKE BOTH OFF (gape). It felt amazing to be standing on top of a 1000-year-old castle ruin in the middle of an Austrian winter with just a singlet top on.

Lunch afterwards was a welcome affair - having soaked up some more views beforehand me and L were well up for a bite (as always). A beer and a wine later, and I was feeling good. Beer + sunshine ALWAYS = feeling good for this one. We drove back to E's house for an after-dinner tea and, much to my enjoyment, glass of sect (sparkling wine) with elderflower juice. I know a friend who would laugh at that one!!

Driving home we spotted... no, it couldn't be... yes, yes it is... a SUNSET!! Living in a valley, we don't ever see the sun set, or really much sun at all, although I didn't realise it until today. It was so nice, a rich golden hue resting at eye level at the end of the road, soaking up all the warmth of the day's freakish winter weather (the bastard). And the cold night returns.

The gloriousness of aforementioned weather also helped me forget that I'd started continously counting the days left until I was finished here. Tomorrow it will be forty days running that I have woken at 6am to do the morning work. Until now I have just grinned n beared it (OK, no grinning but I beared it), knowing that G can't actually do the work herself for now, but it is starting to wear me down a little. Today not even the church bells could wake me up. I can't wait for a weekend off in Vienna in - wait - 10 days. Woot woot!!

Tomorrow we should have nice temps again, and the day after, before it starts going down again. Well, that's good news for Vienna then - we're up and at'em early to get into town in time for the opening of the Brazilian embassy. Finally!