Abitoffthemapp Photography

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One month in

It's hard to believe that I have been back a month but at least for the majority of that time, the weather has been glorious and the job market seems to be more buoyant that it was a year ago. Recruitment consultants (on my 'necessary evil' list along with estate agents and bankers) are actually ringing me back when I apply for roles and I've had two interviews as a result.

Sadly, I didn't get the role with the American law firm but to be honest, I was a little bit pleased since the guy who interviewed me wasn't very receptive and asked me the two biggest 'no no' interview questions: how old I was and whether I was married. Clearly my martial status has some bearing on my ability to do my job as a lawyer and silly singleton me for not remembering that. Surprisingly, the role went to a younger male lawyer but, hey, I am not bitter! I am contemplating a discrimination case as we speak.....

I cheered myself up by joining a photographic club and went along to the first social group where we were sent on a task of photographing the area around Brick Lane and Shoreditch. It was all rather cleverly done and we had to pick 7 letters from the game Scrabble, create 10 words out of the letters and then head off to take photos of the words we had formed (i.e. heel, line, nerd etc). I thoroughly enjoyed it and the group comprised mostly of creatives in their 20s and 30s and whilst our group didn't win the competition overall but we did win the best group name: 'Snap my bitch up' (those into urbanite music will see what we did there)

Round Two (see what I did there?!) of cheering myself up comprised of going to see some tennis at the Wimbledon championships and it was much easier to get in than I expected. I queued for about 1.5 hours, paid £20 and had access to all the courts (except centre, no.1 and no2) and the practice courts. There was a mixed bunch in the crowd and it did crack me up that people get dressed up in their tennis whites to go and watch the tennis! Are they hoping that someone will say 'Oh, I see you play tennis? Well, come and have a knock about on the centre court then!'

I do not follow the tennis as much as I did when I was younger and since my unrequited crush on the Swedish tennis player Mats Wilande,r so I wasn't fussed about who I saw although Federer was due to play court no.1 late afternoon. The system at Wimbledon is egalitarian and after 3pm in the afternoon they sell any spare tickets for courts 1 & 2 and centre for a fiver and the money is donated to charity. I got myself a decent spot in the queue and waited for the tickets to be doled out but as to be expected, most people in the queue were hoping for a Fed ticket and it was estimated that the wait was going to be another 2 and a half hours so I opted for a ticket for court no.2 and watched some great tennis and boiled in the hot English sun (that is not a sentence that I thought I would ever write!). As recommended, I went back to join the queue to see if I could get any tickets for court no.1 but by then, Fed's game had started and it was probably going to be finished by the time any tickets were released and besides, no one was going to leave now and give up their tickets. I watched a bit of the epic battle between Isner and Mahut and then headed home, feeling very cheered up indeed!

Last week I had an interview for a Swiss role (boom, boom) based in Zurich and I think it went well and I am waiting to hear whether I am through to the next round, so finger's crossed as I really, really want this job and the opportunity to move to mainland Europe and be surrounded by clean air, mountains and lakes, chocolate and Rolexes (not necessarily in that order)

I am taking part in a medical research study tomorrow called 'Rubber Hand Illusion experiment' and I'm hoping that it isn't some fetish club in disguise! (although it would liven things up a bit) I am looking forward to getting to the hospital and saying 'I am here for the rubber hand experiment', if nothing else!!

Back to reality

My two and a half months of peace, happiness and serenity were eradicated by British Gas within half an hour. Unfortunately, it took them 5 days to fix the boiler but it's now up and running and I could have a shower for my birthday! A friend came over for dinner to help celebrate my being able to bath and I went to Oxford for the weekend and the weather couldn't have been more perfect and it was warm enough for us to sit outside until midnight.

I caught up with M for lunch and we took his narrow boat out for a quick spin and I then got the train back to London. The train was already running 20 minutes late but no sooner had we got 10 minutes out of Oxford, we ran into trouble. I was engrossed in my book but the train started to sound its horn and the driver began dabbing on the brakes and then it came: the thud. The collective look of horror on everyone's faces could only mean one thing - we had hit something or worse, someone. Everyone sat there in silence and the train came to a standstill and then the announcement came that there had been a track side fatality. Again, gasps resonated around the carriage and some people looked very shocked.

We had to wait for the emergency services to arrive and one insensitive woman saw the police collect a shoe from underneath the train and proceeded to ring her friend to tell them and also said '..I think they are looking for body parts.' I am pleased to say that someone told her off and pointed out to her that there were children on the train and neither them or anyone else wanted to her what she had to say on the matter.

Eventually, the train started again and I got in London feeling a bit worse for wear but I haven't managed to find anything on the incident on the net. Whoever it was, my thoughts are with their family.

A dade in Miami 28/05 - 31/05

My final days in PC do not alter that much from the beginning of the week: more reading, eating and chilling out. We do, however, head off to the unspoilt beach of Macao for some surfing on the Saturday. To get there we drive through some small villages with colourful facades but unfortunately there is a lot of litter around but somehow this doesn't ruin the scene too much and there is an abundance of mango and avocado trees.

When we get there, the sea is as flat as a pancake and apparently this is the first time that it has ever been like this! I guess that I am just not meant to have a surfing lessons and whilst the waves do pick up a bit to allow Ig's son to surf, we sit in the clear blue warm water and it's just like being in a bath (but with other people and some surf boards). We all underestimate the strength of the sun and I get very burnt, despite having suncream on.

My flight the next day is at 7am and it's a 5am start to the day and it is already humid at that time of the morning. The airport is packed and full of fellow sun burnt travellers, so it's not just me that's been an idiot. I arrive in Miami, put my bags in storage and get a shuttle to the Art Deco Museum, Ocean Drive to go on the art deco walking tour. It's Memorial Day weekend and the beach is packed with mostly black Americans and big, black Americans at that. There are all sorts of shapes and sizes parading around in next to nothing and I feel very thin! The area surrounding the beach oozes sex and groups of girls wander around and get cat called by the boys cruising around in cars blasting loud music: it's an assault on all senses and the most bizarre place I have ever seen and makes Las Vegas look tame.

Unfortunately, the Art Deco Museum is closed for the afternoon but I walk around and do my own walking tour and save myself $20. The buildings are beautiful and I have to stop myself from taking too many photos and then I manage to get the local bus back to the airport and save myself a further $20. Alrighty. I check in for my flight to Londres and the big bottle of Punta Cana honey that Ig bought me causes great consternation going through security and my bag get checked and the honey is unwrapped and swabbed for illegal substances. The security officer tells me that 'it was over wrapped for honey' but I don't really know what his moronic statement is supposed to mean because it's better to be over wrapped than get honey leaking all over my clothes.

My flight to Londres experiences some turbulence: I definitely think that this has increased in the last 20 years since I have been flying and there were some moments that I was holding on to my seat like I was just about to experience the dentist's drill. A bit terrifying at times, I have to admit.

Londres is cool (13 degrees), grey and a bit miserable but I get home fairly quickly and the worst thing that has happened is that my boiler doesn't work but at least the flat hasn't been burgled and is still there!

I have thoroughly enjoyed my trip and thanks again to everyone who let me stay and showed me around: I hope that I can reciprocate the favour when you all come and visit me when I move to my Tuscan farmhouse!

Watch this space for the next one.....

23/05 – 30/05 Dreadlock holiday/Island Style

My flight from Lima to Miami is uneventful apart from me having a stinking cold, experiencing a bit of turbulence and getting a grilling at US immigration and being asked how I felt about the new Conservative government. Miami has to have the dullest airport that I have ever been in and if I liked shopping, I would be incredibly disappointed and it didn’t help that my flight to Punta Cana was delayed.

The humidity hits as soon as I get out of the aeroplane and the airport itself is just a big grass hut, but a rather nice one at that. The luggage takes ages to arrive (island time) but Ig was there to meet me and I was whisked off to her lovely flat not far from the airport. By this time I was feeling decidedly ropy and I head off to bed and I didn’t get up until 11am the next morning.

The DR shares the island of Hispaniola with the Republic of Haiti. Its 48,734 square kilometres encompasses tropical rainforests, soaring mountain ranges, mangrove swamps and several hundred kilometres of Caribbean coast. It has close to 9 million residents and the population is a mix of African and European ancestry and there is also a sizable Russian mob here. Literally.

Punta Cana is situated on the east coast of the DR and boasts a 40 km stretch of hotels and beach resorts and it is known as an honeymooners island so I hope that I didn’t pass on my cold to the couple sitting next to me on the ‘plane. Although this would be the worst of their worries as it is now Wednesday and it has virtually rained non-stop since I got here (not that they will be venturing out the of the hotel room, I’d imagine) but I cannot say that I am that bothered as it is nice to be in one place for a while, catch up on my reading and get rid of my cold. I managed to have a dip in the sea yesterday whilst swigging a beer, so life isn’t that bad. We also went to see Ig’s husband’s photography exhibition which was very good and has given me inspiration to do something with my photography. Ig’s son is dying to take me surfing at the weekend, so that is something to look forward to as I didn’t have time to do it in Oz or NZ.

The next day and in-between rain showers, we visit the local market and I buy some nice colourful paintings and we also stop off at an organic food stall run by the Foundation which also houses some bee hives and two of them belong to Julio Iglesias and Oscar de la Renta as they both have private mansions on the island (‘celebeeties’). This is not known as an agricultural region due to its dry temperature and lack of soil but the Ecological Foundation is taking advantage of organic waste produced in gardens and in the local kitchens to make compost to grow organic vegetables. The Foundation has initiated worm composting to increase compost production, as well as the producing the honey.

There are some lovely colourful road side shops and small eateries but unfortunately because of the weather, I am unable to take some photos. Ig’s husband stops off at one of the stalls and we buy some beers to have on the balcony of the flat and watch the ‘planes go by: it’s all quite fascinating as you can see them coast down the runway just above the trees and they look like shark fins.

It’s Thursday and I had thought about heading down to the capital, Santo Domingo, but since I am still trying to shift my cold and the weather was looking grim, I might as well hang put. Besides, after being on the go for the two and a half months, I really feel like some down time and as it happens, it is a nice sunny day and it means I can see a bit of more this area in the sun! I cannot believe that my world trip has nearly come to an end and I have to go back to Londres and ensconce myself into reality but before I have to think of that, I take a dip in the complex pool and see a ‘sundog’ and it’s the first one I have seen and it’s quite incredible. I see it as a good sign and when I get a chance to check my emails, I find that I have an interview with an American firm for a law job, so finger’s crossed.

16/05 – 22/05 The Picchu

The road to Cusco is filled with cars and buses spewing out large black clouds of engine fumes and any efforts to save the planet are well and truly over in Peru. The bus that we are travelling on is ironically called ‘Inca Class’ and whilst it is relatively comfortable seat and leg room wise, the temperature in the bus reaches 30 degrees Celsius and there’s nothing we can do about it. The driver also seems to be competing in the Peruvian grand prix and I have the unenviable position of sitting directly behind him and having first hand sight of any looming mishaps (of which there are many)

Despite a few brown trouser moments, we arrive in Cusco after our 7 hour journey and head to the hotel, which is situated off the main square. The region’s flag is curiously exactly like the gay pride rainbow flag and this amuses me as it is flown right in front of the main Catholic Cathedral in the square. Inca’s revenge, perhaps.

Myself and the Kiwi lot have a sun dower overlooking the square where we see someone dressed as Paddington Bear, so he is in deepest, darkest Peru after all. The Kiwi boys attract a lone travelling Dutch girl, who joins us for dinner and some beers in restaurant that serves the biggest portions I have seen ( in fact, most of the meals in Peru have been more than generous in size)

We have a walking tour the next day and some of the Inca walls can still be seen but as you all know, the Spanish conquistadors pretty much destroyed all Inca temples and buildings and replaced them with Catholic churches. Cusco is a city in south-eastern Peru, near the Urubamba Valley of the Andes mountain range and it is the capital of the Cusco Region as well as the Cusco Province and the city has a population of 358,935 which is triple the figure of 20 years ago. Located on the eastern end of the Knot of Cusco, its altitude is around 3,400 m (11,200 ft). Cusco is the historic capital of the Inca Empire and was declared a World Heritage Site in 1983 by UNESCO and it is a major tourist destination and receives almost a million visitors a year.

Our walking tour takes us through the local market, which is vibrant but I cannot bring myself to walk through the identifiable and unidentifiable meat section. We also visit The Coca Shop which was founded by an Italian doctor to promote the ‘legal’ health benefits of the coca leaf. It is now run by an Italian/Peruvian guy who is completely bonkers and has obviously been sampling too much of the coca leaf himself. We have some coca tea and listen to him rant and rave about the evils of capitalism and I couldn’t but help notice his nice trousers and shoes and I suspect that he comes from a wealthy family so it is very easy for him to denounce the trappings. The rest of the day is free time and I sit in the square, read and catch up on writing my journal after we go up the hill to see the view of the city and the statute of the Christo Blanco which was placed on the hill as it was the Inca’s scared site and the Spanish wanted to make another point.

We are edging closer and closer to MP and our drive to Ollantaytambo (or Oliver Tambo as I like to call it) takes us through the Scared Valley that was hit badly by the flash floods at the beginning of the year and many people are still living in temporary accommodation and roads and bridges are currently being rebuilt (a Swiss aid agency and Oxfam have a strong presence). We stop off at a community project to see how the locals make the colourful garments you can find everywhere and they show us the process from shearing the sheep (one of the Kiwi bros has a go and funnily enough, he’s a natural) to then trying to sell us the goods at exorbitant prices. Before arriving in Oliver Tambo, we visit a community watering hole and taste the local beer made from corn (chicha) and it’s not very pleasant (you can recognise places that sell it (to avoid it?!) by looking for a stick with a red plastic bag placed outside the building). Apparently the locals who work in the fields drink loads of the stuff but it is only 1% alcohol and the women’s version is sweetened with strawberries to make it even less palatable.

Oliver Tambo is a smallish place but is on the way to the Inca Trail so it massively caters for tourists and our guide gives us a tour of the Inca archaeological site the next day. The Incas liked to build things high up on mountains and this site is no exception (especially the Inca storage site on the opposite mountain, which I climb half way up and then am reminded of my fear of heights but the Kiwi boys conquer it). The town itself isn’t very pretty but the location is beautiful: surrounded by snow capped mountains and clouds peeping over the edges of them. After the boys have been tramps for the afternoon, we lounge about in the hotel grounds before catching the train to take us to Aguas Calientes town. We have to get a bus for part of the journey that would have ordinarily been taken by train but the tracks were washed away in the recent floods and they are in the process of rebuilding it. It is almost getting dark so we don’t see much on the journey but we do manage to see the remnants of the destruction that the floods have caused and it must have been terrifying to witness the torrents of water coming down the valley.

Finally, the day that we have all been waiting for has arrived and we get up at 5am to join the other 800 people on ‘The Picchu’ as it has become affectionately known as amongst the group. Since the floods, they have limited the amount of people from 2,000 per day to 800 and selfishly I think this is a much better idea. We have been forewarned by our guide that we may not see anything as ‘The Picchu’ is renowned for mist and cloud and apparently a group a couple of weeks ago didn’t see anything because it was shrouded in cloud. Still, I remain optimistic and thank god it pays off because we manage to witness the most amazing sunrise over the site and when the clouds have cleared, our guide takes us on a tour of the site. This is the only site that the Spanish didn’t find and destroy but they still don’t know why the Incas abandoned it: one theory is that it was struck by lightning and they saw this as an indication that the gods were angry and the site was doomed. The sun has come out and it’s nice to sit on the grass and take in the view and watch the world go by before we tackle the trek up to the Sun Temple which takes us an hour there and back. We make the most of being in the site and have a look at the Inca bridge but this isn’t very spectacular and I cannot make the last part of it because the path is situated too close to the edge and there is only a rope to help you along.

We were hoping to catch sunset but the clouds being to form and the early mornings have begun to catch up with everyone, so we get the bus back to the town and have some lunch and a few beers. It has also begun to rain and we decide against going to the hot springs and head for the hotel for a rest and then out for dinner.

The next day there is a sombre atmosphere amongst the group and this is because the highlight of the trip has come and gone and the thought of the holiday ending and reality kicking in becomes all too existent. We make our way back to Cusco by train part way, bus to Ollantaytambo and then private bus to Cusco. The rain clouds have started to form and it provides for some lovely scenery as the light is a mixture of dark greys and the bright yellowy light of the fields and we experience some heavy showers when we arrive in Cusco but it soon clears up. I wander back to the local market to buy a few things and then head sit in the hotel and catch up with my book and the all important blog.

We have our last supper and the starter comprises of the local delicacy which is cuy: guinea pig! I was expecting it to be served on a plate with its name collar and bell still attached but no, it was worse than that. It came with a little helmet fashioned from a tomato with a sprig of mint sticking out of the top like a Roman legionnaire. I couldn’t bring myself to eat a lot of it especially since its teeth and head was still attached but I did sample a tiny bit and to be honest, it tasted like chicken with a strong aftertaste. Poor little Fluffy.

After dinner we joined some other tour groups for a quiz night to help raise money for the victims of the floods and the rebuilding of the local school. We came a close second but the winners shared their bottle of rum with us and I later joined the tour guide, his wife and some others in a local club for a Peruvian boogie.

It’s Saturday and it must be Lima. Our flight is only takes an hour from Cusco to Lima and I am feeling a bit delicate this morning due to my late night gallivanting (at my age!) but it doesn’t help that the pollution in Lima is so bad that I can hardly breathe. I take it easy for the rest of the day and I can feel my sore throat getting worse. Everyone is feeling exhausted but we go to a local sports bar for some drinks and some dinner before saying goodbye as we all leave tomorrow at different times and I am leaving the earliest at 6am for my flight to Punta Carna, Dominican Republic, via Miami. It has been a great trip around Peru even though it felt a little rushed at times and there was a lack of free time for us to just sit and chill out but it has whetted my appetite for further travel in South America!

15/05 Mierda

Puno is located at the edge of Lake Titicaca, the world's highest commercially navigable lake, at 3,860 m (12,421 ft) above sea level, on the Peruvian Altiplano and it will also be remembered by me because this is where I committed the traveller’s cardinal error and leave my cash card in the machine when I was drawing out cash. I blame the altitude, weariness and being a complete feckwit but at least no dodgy transactions have been made (although I am not sure how to explain that purchase of 3 kgs of Bolivia’s finest....) and I managed to cancel it fairly quickly after the event. Hopefully, I will manage with the cash I have otherwise I will have to make my bank work for the exorbitant fees that it charges me everytime I draw out money abroad and get them to meet me with some dosh.

It was another early start to the day and our first stop is Isla de los Uros. The island is man made with reeds and is home to around 2,000 people and they can boast solar panelling and chemical toilets. They are all very brightly dressed and we have a look around their houses and markets before heading further into the lake to the next island, Isls Taquile, which is 3 hours away by boat.

Taquile is an island on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca 45 km offshore from the city of Puno. About 1,700 people live on the island with an area of 5.72 km². The highest point of the island is 4050 meters above sea level and the main village is at 3950 m. The inhabitants, known as Taquileños, are southern Quechua speakers.

We are in for a bit of a treat as they are celebrating San Isidro in hope of a good harvest for the coming months. It seems like they know how to celebrate as most marriages etc go on for a week and involve a lot of beer and home brewed spirit at a mere 100% proof. This celebration is no exception and we watch the procession before getting our boat back to Puno.

Tomorrow we head off to Cuzco and ever closer to the place we have all come to see, Machu Picchu.