Christian's Travel Blog

Hostels are islands in a new world where young travelers discover mostly with some pride their passport nationality - "Where are you from?" .. "Germany" .. "Dann können wir ja Deutsch sprechen .." - and onwards, gather around the breakfast table to share their basically similar travel experiences and facebook pics of 'must-do' hotspots along mainstream adventure tour routes - "oh yes, and we had such a great sunset" ... Also a lonely wolf can't escape to lift the secret of his whereabout, as it is the entrance ticket to sometimes useful information on a trip without much effort in detailed route planning: "Well, I have an Austrian passport" .. "Dann können wir ja Deutsch sprechen .." Anyhow, half the way down the Amazonas I politely won't kill conversations around a breakfast table serving hot coffee and fresh tropical fruits but simply focus on getting my fair share of the juicy pinapples, mangos and

I'm not worried about time, nor my time shedule for this clockwise trip around south america, but still more than a week short of halftime I find myself already preparing for next weeks flight into Iquitos - my gateway to the Amazon. Looking back it means I spent lazy weeks during the 'cold' festive season with friends in brasil, crossed Argentine down south on the 'R40' deep into Patagonia, moved all the way up by ferryboat and nightbuses through Chile, only to find myself on the way out of Peru. Yet I know, long days on diverse cargo and transportation boats on the endless carving stream through deep rainforrest - till the other side of the continent - soon will become my daily concern.   Sounds like I am rushing like tourists on their annual vacation? Not at all, opposit, and right now I had alredy third time lunch at a small local restaurant in Cusco - on following days, of course, for a menu price less than a medium coffee at nearby Starbucks located str

I don't know why the amusing movie 'Nacho Livre' about the passion of Mexicans towards 'luta livre' came into my mind. I guess it is linked with my perception of how 'southern' men are passionate with sports, especially when it comes to soccer. In Europe we don't know much about the 'Copa Americana', but travelling down South along Patagonia's majestic landscape, emotions quickly rise with Chile being the reigning bi-champion (and Argentine only runner-up). Eventually i want to tell a different story, but meeting Zé Pequenino has something in common with that unconditional competitive spirit. Yesterday was my day to hike the first leg of the famous "W" in the 'Parque Nacional Torres del Paine', reached by a two-hour bus ride from Puerto Natales, served by three bus companies. I got my ticket at my shabby hostel - "cheap", as my host told me, although someone else did not use it and he simply wrote my name ov

Why decide when I have plenty of time? Well, as a socalled land rat (coming from a land-locked country) there might be one argument: left side there is no road that runs all the way up or down. There is only way (beside unfashionable flying out from one of the few airports down South) - the unique experience through Patagonia and its fjords: the Navimag ferry that runs on a weekly basis between Puerto Montt and Puerto Natales, taking four nights (and 550 USD) in return of an unforgetable trip through narrow fjords. So you may understand my concerns. But a highlight of a trip through South America deserves some courage, and indeed, four nights and days on a big ferry are hopefully less challenging than Magellan in 1520 in search for the passage around the continent. But let me start from the beginning. Arriving on the continent in São Paulo, I decided to move clockwise: Brazil, Argentine, Chile, Bolivia and Peru, that serves as entry point to the Amazonas from Iquitos, down the

I just left my last home behind, but not the people and their passion about a time that has gone with the sailing ships departing into the unknown but promissing new world somewhere out in the Atlantic sea - best expressed in the music of Fado. And there it is yet again - in Buenos Aires - that pride of greatness of a time that erroded with the austerity posed upon the nation but is still alive in the passion and expression of the Tango. Indeed, Buenos Aires reminds me a lot my last years in Lisbon, its colonial past as well as the effects of years of austerity. BA is just much bigger, in all of its aspects. Avenues are wider by two to four lanes as buildings are taller, topped by impressive roof constructions of three or more floors. In that respect, BA does remind me in my immagination also NYC - the old part of Manhatten - around the time with the ' great depression ' on the horizon and its european influence of the ' belle epoque '. I am sure this will be