Argentina!!

Evening. Again apologies in the lapse of correspondance. This time to tardiness. No excuses.. Right.. lets get stuck in... loads of news. As a warning this is quite a long edition so there might be a few toilet breaks.

After our final night we travelled to San Predo for the day (one-day passport stamp in Chile) and onto Argentina. San Pedro was wicked if expensive. Border town for the tourists. I didnt mind as much as Gorms- re: the previous sentence. The town was nice , and about as close as you can get to an early Hollywood Cowboy town. The next day, my accompalice managed to secure us tickets luckily to the city of Salta in Aregntina. A ten hour trip on the Chilian pony express.

Along the trip we hooked up with as group of cool austrailains (those two words have been put simised before in english language) and a bloke from Kent named Ben. After arriving in Salta late in the night we tried to secure lodgings as recommended by the bible (LP - Lonely Planed for those less travelled). No luck - popular accomodation booked out which brought us to a place next door. The Hostel beside our preferred place had a dormitory consisting of twelve beds containing two old blokes. Last of the summer wines extras. It was late so agreed to down bags and head for a famous argentenian steak. Prices releative and people over helpful. Quick pints and quick to bed.

Following morning - two vacant beds where the old blokes slepped. One of the aussies spotted one donning a suit and tie before exiting - presumably on the way to work. We changed Hostel. Back and up the road to the best hostel so far. A fimalarity I presume to early residents off Waco. Our host toured the maze of rooms and toilets which were neat and span. Finally, and as the jewel in the corwn, we were introduced to the Bar and open Roof terrace. The terrace consisting of a dining area and Barbeque on the summit of the city. The Aussies were emphoirc. They immeaditaley set about plans off setting up the evening meal on the Barb. Later that day was left to exploring Salta, and what a city. Chilled city of the year awards 2006/2007. Just a really nice town where the cops eat ice cream in the shade. Plesant and a relief to walk around without clutching your valurables.


Early back that afernoon after agreeing to meeting the Aussies and visiting the supermarket for the evening meal. The barb was prepred by Ben, stoked by John, and the steaks grilled by Mark. Suzy and I prepared a master class salad. The result was mignifico. Weather perfect, company cool and the food wicked. After we had served all our duties of preparation and enjoyed the meal, Gorms was nominated to do the wash up. Now imagine a theartical stunt gone wrong where Paul Daniels is left scratching his head after the lovely Debbie McGee is absent for a long period than was rehearsed. Gorms disappeared. The wash up duties were left vacant.
Two days later and we were on the way to Cordoba. The city is the second largest in Argentina, its University home and thronged with students. On arrival at the train station the first thing you notice is the stray dogs. The are huge and pedegreed. Fed on the scraps of steak and pork, the waste of Argentanian restaurants, these dogs belong to Cruff competitions.

On our own again, Brian and I checked into a local hostelary. That afternoon we filled our fanny packs, pulled up socks to knee height and set about touring the town. The small talk disintegrated after the first half an hour. One hour later we had completely not spoken to each other. Brian eventually slowed his pace, kneeled and gently squated himself on the side of a pavement. A gentle tear slowly crepped down my cheek as I glanced at Gorms. Our feeling was mutuale. His face ashamedly covered by his hands and he began to sob. The tears began to flow. I moved closer and threw my arms around him. Our heads buried into each others shoulders... He slowly uttered, lips quivering. "This is my Graceland..... and I thought Nirvana were just a band". The orchestra strings began into chorus... "Dont cry for me Argentina"...

If there were cameras to capture Hillary conquering Everest and when Armstongs capsule splashed into the sea it would have mirrored what only a few men have ever felt . Cordoba is absoluely filled with goddesses. The most beautiful women in the world line the streets. No exageration. Drop dead.. All the cliches... Valuptous bodies and angel faces. Queens of beauty. There is no such thing as a strip club here for visiting one would be like going to the cinema even though you have the DVD. Babies smirked and winked to us while in their stunning Mothers arms. Men cackeled in laughter as we stumbled across streets narrowly missing traffic with our heads in twisted . There is no place like this on the planet. Its heaven on earth. Belinda Carlyle was right.

After cleaning up Gorms in the toilet and assuring him that with a bit of excersise, a lot of surgery, even more make up, that beauty was still more than skin deep. That evening, still shaking, we decided to go for dinner. A local establishment was recommended by a bar man. The restaurant was massive, I mean huge. Tables lined everywhere filled with cutlery and glass. Food counters were steaming of vegtables. A barbeque as long as a bus was filled with steak, pork and lamb. The salad bar was like an exotic well-kept jungle. Except the restaurant was empty. We realised that we had not become adjusted yet to the dining time of the argentanian and it was still early doors (9pm). Nevertheless we approached the hostess and asked if it was possible to dine. She said Yes, of course except that there was a policy. She explained that the restaurant had an All you can eat service for 20 pesos. Which is about 3 pounds. I looked at Gorms. If Micheal Flatley, was on speed, aged 5, and had just found the lucky golden ticket for Willy Wonkas Chocolate factory it would not have come close to the palpable eurhoria that made Brian leap.

Contracts were signed and we were escorted to the counters. I requested the pork as a conterversial choice. The reminder of my plate was filled with delicious chilled salads. The pork rib was the size of a small child. I had not eat this well in months. Eventually, after devouring and in defeat I patted my mouth with a paper servette. By this time Gorms had still not returned from the counters. I had lost him between the grilled chicken steak and stirfry. Minutes later I heard the sound of hollow mouths open in gasped astonishment. I could see Gorms approaching my table balancing plates of food. The waiters diverted their eyes but conscious of what they were seeing and unable to speak. A crowd scene from The emperors new clothes came to mind. I could tell the hostess was about to regret putting us near the front window.

One hour later and my friend was making groaning noises unintentinal but passtionatlely with eyes closed. Hankies were still being fluttered over the pastry chefs face who was now lying vertical. Time came for the bill. It was my twist this time and I handed the waiter my Visa Card. He apologised and said that he was unable to except. This disrupted Brians nap and i immeadiately. He spat put the two pieces of chocolate that he had been dissolving in his cheek pouches. I sensed we were in trouble. The next few minutes we bickered with the waiter and management about how the transaction was going to happen. They wanted cash. We had none. In agreement, Brian went to visit the cash machine and I would stay as hostage.

An hour and a half later still no sign of Brian. At this stage I had gathered the same attention that a suspecious cheat might get at a poker table in Vegas. My table was circled by management. My cheeks were beginning to hurt from regurgatating the last mouthful of water from my glass. A humours tango was happening where management would edge forward and retreat with each step as I blew the water back into the glass. Eventually, Gorms appeared. He lent over the table and whispered that we were about to do a runner. I said to my friend that if I was gonig to be incarcerated that I would prefer if it was not refusing to pay a food bill and If so I would like to whistle the years away through my own teeth. We paid and left.

We met two Brazilian lads in teh dormitory who invited us out for the night. I declined as I suffering from a sore throat. Gorms flew the flag and opted to join them. I waited like an anxious mother when I noticed his bed was emoty the following morning. The clock pointed towards noon and still no sign. At last Brian turned up and grumpled something about waking him later at 5. Companionless for the afternoon I set about doing what any red blooded male would do with their free time in a city like Cordoba.....

The zoological gardens were built in 1917 and contain animals from distant parts of the world. Wild geese, lambs and ducks habitated the gardens. It was while I was watching the pigs of north europe wallow in their own #####.I thought of my friend Gorms laid out back in the Hostel after a hard nights boozing. Later on that evening I bumped into Gorms. He was startled when I approached him. He then said he was going to visit a spa for a back massage. Like two cowboys about to gun sling we both eyed each other suspesiously. I didnt tell him where I had been and he wasnt about to tell me the full truth of where he was going. I returned to the hotel and done some enquiring. One of the employees there menioned that he that enquire about the location of a local beautician. I took the address and set about immeadiately prusuing the truth of his trip.

What happened next will shock and amaze those of you who have known Groms as long as I do. I found the Spa/beautician and entered the establishment. From behind a curtain I could hear the moans of a grown man. I whipped open the curtian and found my friend in the middle of a pedicurement treatment. He loooked up agast. I ripped off my friendship bracelet and exited. I was ashamed. I have spent years and more intimately the last month with him and now have come to question his sexuality.

We stayed in Cordoba for two extra nights. The presidents inauguration here ment that we had severe difficultly trying to get a bus to Buenos Aires. Atfer waiting for two hours at the Terminal, we finally got seats on a bus. We were the only passengers. The whole bus for ten hours to ourselves. I took the back seat.. Gorms spread out semi naked on the front. Car lights silouhetted his tum tum from my angle.

Into BA. Arrived this morning. I took part in a tour of the Boca area. Famous for Football, Football, tango, Maradonna and football. Got a tour of the stadium and area. Really cool.

Clubbing tonight. Hugs n cuddles.

Potosi & The Salt Lakes

Afternoon all. Bit of a lapse in correspondance recently buts because it been seriously tough trying to get web access.

We finally got to leave La Paz after spending 2 weeks there (well on and off..), but it was definately time to leave but not before visiting San Pedro prison and recieving notes from a dutch inmate.. another story. After arrving in Potosi we decided we´d have a go at the Silver Mines that are still in opertaion there. The following day I was sufffering from the old altitude sickness (which Gormally refered to as Atitude sickness). He´s fascination for exploring crevasis got the better of him and off he went. Note - no pictures as Gormally doesnt travel with a camera and I was not there to take pictures of him.

The following day.. again.. more protests. We got stuck for an extra day in Potosi which was nice but striking another precious day off the calendar. The following day we got onboard a 6 hour bus trip to Unyui. The good news was we got to sit beside two lovely Jewish Girls from Maine County USA. As the trip progressed the road deteriorated, and badly. The bus was hoping on an aging suspension. When I looked at Gormally, puffing my cheeks in disapproval, I noted he had a quirky smile. With a nod and supporting hand gestures, Brian had atriculated Newtons Law of Gravity and Funbags. We both immeadiately grabbed our shades and gave the thimbs up as Top Gun Pilots do to ground staff. It appeared Boliva was holding it´s first two Roy Orbison conference and we were on route. After the first hour, Gormally´s Valium had kicked in. With the shades still on, saliva gathering on his lower lip, and a growling snoor, Gormally had become reduced of control off his most important muscle due to the drug and was developing what is known in biological terms as the ´Diesel Dong´.

We were lucky to get off the bus alive after the cock-up (whah!). My right hear still rings from the jewish girls´ rape whiste.

The next day, we were off on a three day tour of the Salt Plains with an Irish couple, who we had met previosly in another city, a French Man (profession: Chef) and a Columbian Girl (profession...chefs girlfriend). First stop was a visit to the Railway Cementry where old Trains go to die. Got some great pictures.

Onto the Salt Plains. They are surreal... Dali surreal... and hot. Noting but Salt. Got great laughs when I asked one of our group to pass the salt during lunch.

That night was to relax in accomdation at the edge of the salt plains/lakes. All in bed by 8pm - having a wild time in South America.

The final day of the Salt Lakes vist entailed that we wake at 5am and visit the natural geezers. I was awe struck.. a phonomoem. I had not seen Gormally wake at that hour ever. The Northen lights, grand canyon, etc. couldnt cap the moment.

That afternoon (and today as I write), we visited some wicked lagoon lakes with some out of this world views. Postcard/Guidebook stuff. Us.. the mountians.. isolation... No idea of time, day.. no idea who´s where in the league... No worries.... Perfect.

Our cork Irish companion, who was travelling as one half off a couple, started to become aggitated at Brian´s humours abilty to oultine and detail his characteristical flaws... i.e. Pull the f**king the piss out of him. At about 9am, the poor man appeared to be possesed by something and was beginning the initial stages of going mad. He began by muttering to himself, calling for his girlfriends assitence and whispering to noone. At precisely, 10:27am, he broke. Gurantamano Bay cases havent matched what happened next - He went f%$kin nuts. He called me every name under the sun, accussed Gormally off being an accomplice; off the both of us conniving and conspiring to humilate him publicly and in front of his girlfirend. It was jawdropping (and matching the scenery).

The jeep pulled up and he got out. Him making a go for me. ¨Not the face I screamed¨ before Gormally was able to pull him back. I was flabergasted. Brian was. We hadnt a clue what was happening. He took off in a huff and headed for the landscape.. later ruining every good landscape camera shot as Gormally pointed out.

Two hours later.. no sign. Our group with one short and a Chilean border to cross were getting impatient. His girlfriend was humilated. We were shocked. The driver getting hungry. Eventually his girlfriend decided to go track the man down. She returned 5 minutes later and asked for our driver and his vehciles assistence. One hour later, our dirver retured. In broken spanish, the driver explained that Connor (his real name), had decided that he was going to track solo to the Chilian Border. We all whooped and jumped into the jeep and set for off. The jeep sped along a dirt track untill eventually we caught up with the bloke. As we sped by, a half empty bottle of water was flung from the jeep window onto his path plus Gormally stole his sunglasses in retaliation.

This afternoon we crossed the border into Chile. We staying at a border town called San Pedro (like the prison) and tomorrow we continue to Salta in Argentina. Stay tuned.

Link to some earlier photos

We´re off to Potosi tonight to see some working mines and blow some dynamite!! Only a 10 hour trip on the Peoples Bus of Bolivia. By the way, for those off you who asked - The Coca leaves are useless. Only make you look like you´ve been eating spinach and a turn off to the laaaaaadiess..

Some earlier photos off La Pàz below.

http://www.photobox.ie/album/6988470

Hot in Rurrenabaque

Its absolutely boiling here. Not much to do today but just sit by the pool. Plans are to properly go Quad biking later this evening or Motorbking. We didnt do the Shamen tour in the end because it involved too much preparation. You couldnt eat, drink, smoke, have sex or fiddle with yourselve 24 hours before visiting the Shamen. I could do without the drinking....

When you get their he would give you a drink called Iowadka which is an extract from a type of cactus plant that would make you trip for 4 hours. The idea is that he would guide you through your memories and stuff. Freaky stufff...

In zee zungle wit zee Germans

The jungle was master.

Ross really came to the fore, he really impressed me again by bring it to the max and giving it 120%.
I knew he was in a ¨can do¨ frame of mind when he was the first to jump into the croc infested waters within seconds of or guide informing us that it was safe to do so...
as you all know from reading my memoirs ¨Three decades in Sierra Leone fighting the genocide single handily and winning and becoming champion of the locals¨ ( available from all good bookshops and online www.spoofpublications.com) also available is my autoboigraphy ¨Bouncing Back¨.I am no stranger to foreighn lands but the thought of going in first did give me the butterflys, but not our Ross first in. ¨Back off the net¨
The second day we went hunting for Anacondas, and this is were my astoinishment turned to awe.
Ross took off in search of those Anancondas with the same gusto and boyhood curiousity as Eamon scampering down Bishop Street to the Abbey at lunch time in search of ¨news¨. Mean while I causiously stepped out the first few hundred metres Ross was a dot in the horizon. But there were no Anacondas to be had that day. It was a good day as days go.

Swimming with dolphins and crocs , piranha fishing, snake handling and finished off with a 9 side soccer match against the locals. Final score Bolivia 4 The world 1. In other scores it was Mosquitos 86 Ross 0..............absolutely destroyed you can see the pics !!
I was bite free, althogh this does not make me any better than anyone else, its just hard to penetrate steel.

The group was mostly Germans and everyone was ubber polite to start off..... but then I decided to keep it real.. real real. International dipolmacy went out the window the first morning¨with all zee tootin from zee behind hah hah¨.

Anyway good times and ¨needless to say I had the last laugh¨

Yours always

Pappa Gormo

*In no way, shape, or form has Brian ripped off any off Alan Patridges gags in this blog and any similarity or plagerism is purely coincidental aaahhhhhhhhaaaaaaa.

Welcome to the Jungle - We got loads of Snakes!

Afternoon Readers and firstly apologies for not posting updates. Y´see its tough finding an internet cafe in the foilage and thats because they dont have any!!! In the jungle!!... No Internet!!

We began the journey with a Flight out from La Paz to Rurrenbaque. The flight takes approxamately 45 minutes with the alternative being a 14 hour trip by jeep. We decided on the flight and saved our rationed Vallium. The trip was fantastic and finally we landed literally in a field. It was so hot but it was the real South America that we were getting. That night we booked ourselves into a Brothel stroke Hostel as every other place was booked out. It was filthy and they clientle matched. Out that night and purposely got hammered so that I couldnt cry myself to sleep.

Our group met up the following day consisting of 8 Germans, 1 Danish & 1 Turk. We set off on a three hour jeep journey and a one hour, two stroke engine boat journey to our lodgings down the river.

Now, I´ll begin the next story by saying that the area was complelety exotic to us. We hadnt seen anything like it before, with different types of animals, plants, trees etc. Along the jouney everyone was decsribing what they had heard about the Pampas from their friends who had taken the trip previously, with tales off Man eating Monkeys, Crocodiles, Piranas.. You name it, it was like a who´s who off dangerous animals. We were all a bit apprehenisve but timidly excited about what we were gonig to see. Along the way we stopped at a eatery before getting on the boat. Each of us slowly unboarded the jeep and sat at a large table. As we were tucking into our food , my travelling companion, again, our hero, Brian Gormally, spotted some fur climbing up his leg. He leaped between 4/5 feet out of his chair and on descending he punched the animal clean into the mouth. The baby cat, or better known in these parts as a small Kitten, fled in pain and returned to it´s owner. One local was strecthered from the place and could be heard still laughing in the back as the ambulance took off.

Gorms immeaditley set about pursuing the dominat male position in response to the episode above by hogging the seat at the top of the boat, climbing trees and with full gusto, farting without apology. Dieter and Hans baptised the man ´Zee Trumpet´ with admiration at his talking arse.

The Pampas is one word - beautiful, end off story. The river contains all exotic animals - Crocodiles, Piranas, Torturles, Dolphins. The heat was immense and the mosquitos were hungry, unbeliveably hungry. I suffered seventy percent bites to my body on the first night. We had bought a limited amount of Deet but it was the good stuff, the rolls royce of insect deterrent. We had promised each other we would ration it and only apply it to the riskiest and most important pieces of our body. We kept a close eye on each other and were always, always knew which bag it was in at any time. During the boat jouney, whilst I was applying the liquid gold, the Danish lad caught my eye and politely asked if he could have some. I glanced at Gorms, and in a moment of charity and stupidness I handed the spray over. The Dane sprayed it everywhere, all over his body, and I mean all over his body, even where he had his clothes on... At this stage, Gorms had erwiggd the sound of dispening spray and glanced over. On his second glance he stared at me - I had seen this look before.... It was the sort of look that a person wears when they notice someone they hate walk into a bar but can only warn a friend by a facial expression. Its when the eyes start bulging and the lips shrink. The muscles clench and the skin begins to turn red. Sweat starts to deposit through the pores in tiny beads. We didnt talk untill dinner that night.

Gorms suffered none, not one bite, and I can only believe they were off-putted by the smell and they thought he was a pubesent gorilla. The next day we went hunting for Anacondas, yep, the fearsome snake of the Pampas Grasslands and we were hunting one.. How many we found after 3 hours walking?, not one. Gorms - now ´Zee Klass Klown´, promised the German girls a viewing of another snake to wipe away their disappointment but they politely declined after the innuendo was explained by the Dane. When we slowly walked back to the boat, another guide found a Cobra, and after we all stood round took photos, we returned to the lodge.

That night, our guide brought us to a small house bar with a small football pitch outside. We all watched the wicked sunset after the tourists suffered a heavy defeat from the locals. The next and final day day in the Pampas, our guide took us Piranna fishing, feeding crocodiles and swimming with the Dolphins but all in the same river and all in the same spot. Those who turned down a swim were given fishing line, a hook and a small piece of raw chicken. As people dived in, lines were cast and the piranhas started to bite. One crocodile looked on the edge and decided it was too much fun to ignore and sunk into the river to come join us. Luckily the guide was a mate of his -not joking, knows the fella 15 years, owed him a tenner - and was able to divert his attention away from the white skinned europeans.

The next night was spent getting hammered again but this time it wasn´t because off the accomodation, it was the bites, huge chunks had been removed from my torso, limbs and especially my arse by the mosquitos. They wont forget me out there. Gorms, again, nada.. not one.

The following day we travelled on a four hour journey deep into the jungle. At this stage the group had decreased to six consiting of me, Gorms and four German lads- travelling Frankfurter-fest as Gorms pointed out. (The other group had only paid to stay for 3 nights of the tour).

It was a disaster. We didnt see anything after trundling aorund the jungle for a few hours. During the hike, the guide had warnd us that they would be rain so we packed rain proof panchos into a plastic bag, as the first few drops started to descend Gorms asked for his pancho.

We still blame the other for what happened next. I passed it over and reached into the bag for the second. Couldnt find one. We had only packed one rain-proof jacket. We were in the Rain forrest and only one of us was going to be dry. When I looked up, Gorms had, in 0.6 seconds, put his head through the hole of the pancho and covered his entire body in the rain-proof material. His bearded head smirking at the summit of the canvas. I was furious after I had carried it around the entire trip. Luckily, the rain hadnt quite taken off and it ceased after a few mins after a light drizzle. Gorms flung back the pancho and instruced me to put it back into the bag convinced that the rain shower was over. Within 10 minutes, it began again, I immeaditley struggled myself into the pancho. The rain started and it got heavy, then it got seriously heavy. It didnt stop for two days. Constant rain. Gorms got destroyed.

That night we got back to the lodge. Gorms, and I´m not joking, tried to bribe the boat driver to take us back to Rurrenbaque last night, he´d rather stay there then stay the night with the Germans (afterall they met each other in the school orchestra).

Today, I write this back in civilisation, we left the jungle at 9am this morning after giving up on the jungle and leaving the rain. Tomorrow we have to stay an extra night here as the flghts again have been cancelled and the the passenger lists increase. Gorms has picked out some activities for tomorrow. He´s come across a Shamen tour. Sounds good.

Jungle Journey Postponed - Poo Poo

After checking out of the hostel and getting to the airport we were told that all flights to Rurrenbaque had been cancelled for today due to bad weather in the jungle that refused planes to land. A rubbish result which means we will have to check back into the hostel and return the towels. The hostel is good craic but we´ve been there for a bit too long now. Its absolutely dirt cheap which is great... checking out I paid about 90 euro for 5 nights, including bed & breakfast, some lunch and gallons of beer.

Gorms has lost his treasured pair of 1998 Asics Trainers that he used to climb the Inca trail and do the Worlds Most Dangerous Road with He had been planning on getting them mounted and sold to the Hard Rock Cafe when he returned. They were last cited by myself after I spotted them underneath my bed where they had been strategically placed by my travelling companion, after noticing that paint was peeling of the walls off our room and I was getting a touch dizzy with the smell - a strong burgundy Cheese n Onion circa 1982, I decided to remove them. I placed them outside the room to deter predators, wild animals and burglars from entering but unfortunately the following morning they vanished. Just two muddy outlines to remind us where they stood.

Gorms is debating on replacing them... but cannot replace the memories.



Condolences can be left in the comments section of this blog entry.



By the way - Barry Higgins makes an appearance in the Simpsons.

Diesel Protests - Down with this Sort of Thing

I know there isn't much point in adding to Brian's comments since he has managed to detail the events of today in his last blog entry. Basically, nothing has happened today as per reason that the country is in protest regarding the lack of Diesel available. In reaction to this, nobody can get about the country because of road blockages. Hence all travellers are stuck where they are.

We had been promised by some locals absolute anarchy, with full scale riots and shootings. Eager to be with our brothers on the front line, Gorms and I decided to head towards the city centre. We couldn't have been more disappointed... Kids eating ice cream, families enjoying their day off in the park, I was disgusted.

We moved from the Town square to a tourist office and booked ourselves in for a trip to the jungle for a few nights. Gorms is encouraged of news about natural remedies that will be available there for his hemorrhoids. I agreed to keep an eye out when we get there, whilst he rubs his arse against the bark of a tree simulating like a cow with an irritating itch.

Post booking the trip, Gorms decided to go for a haircut and I joined to document the transition from halve beast, half animal, full monster to diplomatic impersonator and well respected local of La Paz excluding tash.On upon treking the streets, was like a scene from the Godfather, with local traders offering Don Gormally a sample of their finest produce. He's come a long way.

Check out the pciture below. I noticed that they have captured my image at the local stylists and its been a popular choice amongst the fashionable young men of La Paz. I smirked to myself when exiting the establishment, and didn't even ask for the royalty comission. Bless...

Uncle travelling Matt from Fragle Rock

These blogs remind me of Uncle travelling Matt from fragile rock,....."ohhhh I was here and ooohhhh I was there and it was amazing " Yeah was it fucking amazing ? Cause who the fuck asked ya anyways ? . I ll blog the head off ya. Any ways sorry about that..... that a little section that I call "Do ya know what really grinds my gears ? " Thus far Ross has had exclusive control over the editing of this blog................. well things are about to change. Let me tell you a few things about South America ...... yeah ? In South America life is cheap. In South America you get what you pay for In South America you don't always get what you pay for In South America don't throw used toilet paper in the toilet throw in the waste paper receptacle provided as the sewage system is unable to break down said toilet paper and it will probably result in blockages of some sort. In South America don't buy finger puppets off the street, buy them off a licenced vendor and ask to see their licence or certificate of registration.......... trust me this can save you a world of bother. The above are just a few nuggets of absolute gold that I am passing on to you should you ever visit. This is Pappa Gormo, as I am affectionately known by the locals, signing off. As you may have guessed there is not much going on to day. Ross and I are heading to the Rurrenabaque tomorrow for a 5 night jungle and pampas tour, so stay tuned until we return we more Uncle travelling Matt stories.............

Women Wrestling & The Worlds Most Dangerous Road

Arrived in La Paz and got to the Hostel at 7am. Gorms had booked a luxury double room with its own mirror. I barely recognised the man - full beard and a stone lighter - I thought I had accidentally walked in on Jack Osborune´s Room.

The adrenalin junkie himself acknowledged my arrival and went back snoring. Didn't do much for later that day as I was shattered and the altitude sickness kicked in. The hostel is funky enough and is owned by a few English and Irish lads. Its just been opened in March and is anything goes.

The following day one of the lads we bumped into in the hostel had some tickets for women wrestling. We´d nothing else planned so we decided to go. We got wind that you could bring some rotten fruit to throw at the ladies in reaction to their performance. Excited by this prospect Gorms and I went hunting in the city for fruit. We came across a young lad selling orange juice and we bought the most foul gone-off oranges from him which he thought was a bargain. He was pulling faces at his mates opposite his stand when we were handing over the money. We got onto the bus and asked if any other people had brought anything to throw at the contestants. Nobody had a clue what we were on about.

Onto the wrestling and signs were printed in english for the sake if the tourist pointing out that anything thrown will automatically mean removal from the event.... Of course I smuggled the gems in.

The wrestling was all show and was all men. Nothing real and nothing that we had been led to believe what the occasion would be - we were promised proper beatings with local women pulling hair and biting noses.

The event was running a bit stale (shit wrestling and no fruit throwing) until our hero, Brian Gormally decided to liven up it up - he reached into the bag and removed the most rancid orange. He peeled, halved the orange, griped one section of the fruit. He then exhibited the most beautiful and graceful shot of any man I have ever seen. The juice dripping orange catapulted at a velocity that smacked the 24 stone Latino wrestler from 30 yards. What happened next exploded into chaos. Men, women children lobbed everything from water bottles, cans and rotten fruit into the ring. The wrestler slide out between the ropes and picked up a piece of fruit from the ground and marched over to our side of the seating's. He spotted Gormally and from 5 yards threw back his arm gripping the offending fruit and vengeful for the humiliation he had suffered on his pinnacle night. Myself and Gorms hit the deck immediately - the wrestlers shot whizzed past us and smacked the face of a Japanese tourist. Now, I haven't wet myself since junior infants, but I squeezed my genitals with my thighs to prevent hot jets of urine from escaping.

Order was restored, the wrestling continued and eventually the Bolivian women got in the ring. It was all a bit of theratre and for the tourists.

The next day Gorms and I went Mountain Biking on the Most Dangerous Road in the World (TM). The road is 4300 metres above sea level which makes it difficult to breath and as Gorms pointed out - very difficult to light a fag. It was quality craic racing down dirt roads with their edges dropping hundreds of feet. No injuries are serious accidents but as thereisalwaysone.com, a Canadian bird smacked her face of the concrete (and easiest) part of the road. Lucky we had been given dust guards to protect our mouths and noses, and this prevented anyone seeing Gormally roaring his head off when we all stood around consulling the poor girl.

As we darted down the roads, there were stages were we would catch up with each other and restart at the same pace onto the next stage. One of thes stages, I got down before Gorms, the next people down were an Aussie bloke and some girls from Dublin. The Aussie guy´s bike was wobbling and his tried to control it with his laughter and tears blinding his view. The two Irish girls were spitting abuse and taking my friends name, your hero - Brian Gormally, in shokcing vain.

The aussie bloke collapsed onto the ground, rolled onto his back, kicked his legs into the air and held his belly in laughter. When he had restored himself, he descibed what had happened. As himself and the Irish girls came around a corner, they saw a person tangled into the frame of a mountain bike. As they got closer, they could make out it was Brian and it appeared that he was in a bad way, with one leg through the frame and his arm through the spokes of the wheel, his body contorted into the bike. The girls immeadiatley went nuts, frantic that the man wasnt alive, as they peaked on the panic register, Brian opened his eyes and gave a smile. His bike had suffered a puncture.

Day 1 - Thursday, 8th November 2007

Marco Polo my ass!! Travelled yesterday nearly 24hrs solid from Brixton to Miami via Madrid. Iberia airlines are a disaster and they only thing they had to offer was pate on crackers -Guaranteeed to stain your pants... No drinks onbooard either.

Inflight Entertainment - The simpsons Movie. However, my earphones were broken.. and had to listen to El Barto & Senior Homer outpouring from the perfectly working earphones off Diego sitting beside me.

Woke up this morning to the sound of latino drums - annoying so turned down the tv and had a shower. No shampoo packed but never mind as this is roughin' it. Ray Mears My ass!! Forgot to pack the toothbrush..

Clipped on my fanny pack, pulled up my knee socks and went exploring. My findings after about an hour where that the yanks were exceptionally f**king stupid in these parts. After asking a local for the nearest bagel shop he found upon himself to question 'What do they sell there?'... Keeps them guns legal Mr Heston..

I've bought myself a nifty camera that will be a jewel to the latino burglar when I get there tomorrow morning. Good news is that it will be something to barter with.