Coming next......

How this happened on the way to Cusco......

Coroico and death road foteeees!

THE DEATH ROAD TO COROICO......

The second weekend in Bolivian Kirk and I decided to sign up for “The Death Road” Mountain Madness bike tour to Coroico. Hailed as on of the most dangerous roads in the world that has claimed over 7000 lives. We’d be alright.
After a 2 hour bus journey to the starting pass “La Cumbre” where you begin at 4640m we mounted our full suspension steeds for the day, they weighed and looked more like motor bikes to be honest, more than a years wage for many a Bolivian I believe.
The start of the day was on asphalt where you were absolutely fleein down at top speeds with the odd gruesome uphill. After an hour and a half we hit the old road where the brown trousers came on and the fun would really start. 3 months prior to our arrival this dust track road was the main thoroughfare for all traffic going from Coroico to La Paz. Scary really, I mean trucks, cars, vans, buses, trikes, bikes, donkeys, lamas, people, the lot, all using this road hardly wide enough for a truck. Needles to say most of the lives claimed over the years were in majority from buses or trucks acting as buses laden full of people and in some cases the driver having had cerveza to many. The whole road is littered with many crosses and plaques to commemorate the poor victims. Seriously there is no way I’d get a bus up or down this road even now without all the other traffic.
The decent had some of the most incredible panoramic views I’ve seen to date with 300m drops at parts and waterfalls crashing onto the path giving a refreshing shower to speed through. Our main guide who led the group was a bit of a cocky guy from Nottingham and to be honest although annoying with his crappy jokes and loud voice he turned out to be a good guide who got us all safely down.
The majority of the trail was downhill from freezing conditions at the start to tropical burning sunshine at the finish, we all deserved a cold beer for surviving the death road. Lucky for us the Esmerelda hotel greeted us all with open arms, beers, buffet lunch, swimming pool and sauna. Agh well I think we may have to spend a couple of nights here then, especially for $10 a night including all food.
After meeting some other fine folk at the hotel Kirk, Morrisio (the son from Kirks La Paz family) and I went out to disco in Coroico. A small town maybe a bit smaller than Banchory, we ended up being invited to a local Birthday Party in a closed down club, oh yes and then of course feet o flames Fiddes got the Salsa Celtica moves out. Well something like that anyway. That night Kirk peed on the hotel room floor, you can take the man out of Antarctica eh, in his defence it may have been a delayed reaction to the fear experienced that day.

This is what happens......

if you happen to be an Inca King and the Spanish arrive. They cut off your tongue in front of your family, then pull your limbs off with a horse. If that doesn't work they cut them off then post them to the 4 corners of SA. Bit like Wallace really. This photo depicts King Mel Gibson in his forthcoming movie 'BraveInca'.

One night I ate this meatfest in La Paz.........

the next day I was on the pan all day. It was worth it!

Bolivia, La Paz and reunion.

I arrived in La Paz at 7:30, drank a shed load of water on the flight to minimise the effects of altitude sickness following wise words from Indiana Watson. I had a feeling it was going to hit me bad because of flying from sea level to La Paz 4600m, with no time to acclimatize. No dizzy spells or immediate vomiting on leaving the aircraft so high hopes so far. Through customs with no hassle what so ever, immigration officer was a complete gentleman, bienvenida Bolivia, I give you a month visa ok, excellent muchos gracias senor.
Baggage claim carrousel numero uno, dum de dum de dum, I was pretty late on the flight so expected my bag out first. People waiting 80, 60, 50 , 40, mmmm, ant time now bags going to pop up, 30, 20 come on bag don’t let me down now, 15, 10 5, agh shite this doesn’t look good. 4, 3, no more bags popping out. A wee look down the belt tunnel, oh right the belts stopped. Shergar McShazbat!! Was really only a matter of time. So on speaking to American Airlines rep it turns out my bags are still in Miami, great they shall serve me well there. Ok, well, onto second customs now where you have to press a button that measures your pulse, if your pulse is high then the alarm goes off, fair enough. This of course pretty much means any gringo arriving at altitude, needless to say that and losing my bags my pulse sent the alarm off. The officer gave me a smile and motioned to go through, I think he realised I was a wee bit miffed about the bags and took pity on me. Fine chappy, gracias.
Through the gates and I spy a Bolivian taxi driver holding a placard saying “Fit like min Fiddes!” very odd, wow they speak Doric in La Paz amazing. Wahae! Kirk appears with bullwhip and Indy hat, Fit like en. Great to see a familiar face especially one that has been hanging with penguins in the Antarctic for 2.5 years and of course that I have no bloody idea where I was going from here. It was a relief to see that Kirk had not developed any serious signs of hibernation sickness in the S.P, I soon got used to the involuntary twitches and dawdling speech impediment. “Wahae! North East boys we are here, dum de dad a dum de da! And so on. Funny really within a few minutes it was as if we had seen each other last week.
Altitude sickness zero, Fiddes uno.
Kirk had us booked into a fine hostel in the centre of La Paz which was great but of course it was a bit steep for us Aberdonians, approximately £1.83 a night, for goodness sake eh! Agh well I suppose I can fork that out for 2 nights. Checked in then onto a restaurant at the top of a big tower block looking over La Paz, amazing view. Bueno Panorama. Again was pretty steep at £2.00 each including beers.
More water, alto sickness zero Fiddes dos!
Kirk had somehow heard about another youth hostel opening night, oh aye and it was St Patricks day after all so why not, I wasn’t tired and had been a long time since catching up with many stories to share.
How is this for a good idea the hostel was owned by 3 Irish guys and 1 Israeli, they all jointly own 1 in La Paz, 1 in Cusco and 1 in Lima. They take turns in running the 3 and usually one of them gets to travel about. Brilliant. Place in La Paz although still a building site was amazing, Spanish Colonial building with huge atrium and incredible cornicing, oak woodwork etc. What potential.
Harry Fiddes and son do South America, what do you reckon Dad? “Papa Fiddes es hijo, construccion, disenor et urbanizacion” I believe it has a certain ring to it.
Bag turns up after 2 days, just in time to move into Families house with fresh clothes,phew!
Still no signs of altitude sickness, 3 nil.

Me, Rene (Bolivian padre & Cicillia elles nino)













Kirks Bolivian family and American Nancy who also stayed there. Nancy was one of the daftest folk I have ever met, the family were lovely.











The following 2 weeks in La Paz were incredible. My Bolivian family that I stayed with Rene, Miriam and there 3 year old chica Ciccillia were so warm and of course patient with my pigeon Spanish. On arrival they made me feel so welcome in their traditional colonial house situated close to the infamous San Pedro prison (where with a little balls and ingenuity it is possible to get a guided tour of the prison by an inmate). Rene and Miriam’s house gave me my own private room with desk, couch, TV and all the mod cons. Use of the shower was precarious at times as it did share some similarities to M.Latif electrical wiring, big lever to pull with wet hands giving off a few sparks on entering and leaving the shower, ok then, I shall wear rubber veruca socks from now on.
Cicillia took great pleasure in taking the piss out of my rubbish Spanish over the 2 week stay, however I managed to impress her one day with my doodling skills over a game of magma doodle using pens & crayons. In fact the taunting became too much and I became very competitive in that game snatching crayons, spitting the dummy out and alike.
Every day I would get up at 7 and have a hearty breakfast with the family before going to school with my pack lunch. William was my Spanish teacher where I would get 3 hours private tuition then the last hour with Kirk. William was an excellent tutor albeit a bit of a stickler on the grammar. Before I came Kirk had paid for his lessons upfront and William had come in the next day pished as a fart, I made sure not to make the same error.
Most of the week days really were taken up with studying with cultural visits in the afternoon and early evening, ok a couple of jars were of course had some nights. La Paz was a really bussling city with incredibly helpful, honest and friendly people. I think tourism is still catching up in Bolivia and that for me somehow really adds to the appeal, the hassle factor from folk really was non existant, if the locals were chatting with you it was generally out of interest and not to scam or sell you something.
The altitude really does make a huge difference to you there, I made the mistake of playing football with Kirk and a bunch of Bolivians after only being there 3 days, My goodness me I thought a lung was going to fall out. Even the shortest flight of steps and you’ll be gasping for breath, makes you appreciate how fit these folk must be. Wait untill you hear about the porters on the Inca Trail though, they are strong fit folk I tell ye.


En route to school from my home.

Big Ass Cigars in Miami, Hannibal Style.

Miami but nae Vice!

After a great meal in San Francisco with Tava and her friends I was very kindly given a contact for Miami, a good friend of Tava called Richard. Because of spring break in the states every damn hostel in the city seemed booked up but I managed to find 1 online, here is a quotation from a recent online critique of the place: "What can I say -- bloody awful! Worse hostel we've ever experienced and we've been to many all over the world! Firstly we were given the option of bed linen over sleeping bags and as per usual we took the sheets, then the kitchen was absolutely disgusting -- milk in the fridge had been there so long that it had separated and full of rust, there were no cooking facilities, and TV didn't work. Then the biggest problem of all problems in a hostel bedbugs! Lots and lots of them -- we freaked out as you can imagine! Staff were completely rude and unhelpful, they would not accept responsibilty for their actions and even called us troublemakers and liars. They continued to tell us they did not care if we infected other hostels! Be advised -- for your own safety do not stay here. Damn you suckers -- we're taking you to the health board!"

Luckily for me on arrival to Miami, Richard picked me up at the airport in one of the largest jeeps I’ve ever been in, massif. The 2 of us got along straight off and I was instantly made to feel welcome in this new city. We were both hungry so went straight along to “little Cuba” for a traditional Cuban meal and a couple of Mohito’s. During the meal Richard told me he had only left the states once before and that was to go to Scotland for 2 weeks holiday. He managed to tour most of the country and because of the kind generosity shown to him he was determined to repay the hospitality. Lucky me. The offer of a free place to stay was even more appealing after reading about the hostel I was supposed to be staying at.
A few of us went ten-pin bowling after supper and then went back to his mates’ house where I then realised they were all pretty serious musicians. 4 of them sharing a house with this incredible practise room; guitars, bass, drum kits, Fender Rhodes organ, soundboards with Mac set up. Really was pretty much an in house recording studio, which even had the egg boxes on the walls to prove it.
After a jam with the lads and me playing stairway badly the offer of a bike ride was suggested, ok well it is only 2 in the morning, why not. On leaving the house it was easily recognisable that this was a pretty swanky area, wide-open streets were quiet lined with massif trees to obscure the size of the private houses each of course with private pools.
After 20 minutes of peddling we reached our 1st stop on the midnight bike tour, the infamous hotel where Al Capone was murdered, awesome place really reminded me of Spain. We all snuck in through the back terrace that revealed an enormous outdoor swimming pool, surrounded by trees and shrubs with a gorgeous bar terrace amidst the tropical growth. Fantastic. The guest sitting at the hotel bar didn’t seem to be bothered even with me acting as paparazzi.
On to the golf course now, which hailed the largest trees in girth that, I certainly have ever seen. Starting as single trunks then hundreds of single vines that hang down eventually develop into new roots, the end result is a tree made up of multiple trunks. I would hazard a guess that the largest was approximately 20ft in diameter, Jurassic Park style indeed.
A few more local sites on the way with Nic and Richard then back to Nic’s house where it was decided we would a crash. Not a bad night for the first few hours in Miami.
1st morning in Miami, Richard was working early so Nic gave me a lift down to south beach, that was of course after a wee pit stop round at Barry Gibb’s house (the lead singer from the Bee Gee’s). Pulled up the driveway to this huge mansion on the beachfront with its own private jetty and yacht. So this is how the other side live. Went round one of the back gardens (yes one of 3) and entered the in house recording studio. 2 rooms fully sound proofed with 300mm walls and separating doors. Huge plasma screen on wall with triple flat screen monitors below and many mixing boards. Mikey you’ll know all the tech stuff, all I could see was an affa muckle amount of buttons and knobs with flashy lights. Anyway, after a brief inspection, a bleather with Barry’s producer and a sneak preview of Mr Gibbs 1st country album I reckoned it was time for an American idol photo shoot, and why not. Did you know Barry’s wife was miss Scotland in the 70’s; aye the shiny teeth guy and I go way back. Staying alive!
South beach was madness and not being a great fan of the beach I didn’t stay to long. Decided against a swim for fear of being gobbled by Jaws, I know, more chance of being hit by lighting but not ready for that chance, surfing in Oz mmmmm I dinna think so.
That evening after a good old wander round downtown looking for Crocket & Tubs I donned the Miami shirt and was treated to dinner by my newfound pals. First Sushi restaurant for me, went down pretty well actually and must say I enjoyed it after all. Nae to fishy, nicely presented, muy bueno.
Early start the next day, off to see the Everglades, totally amazing, apparently no other eco system like it on the planet, shame it’s rapidly diminishing due to rapid population growth, a problem they are trying to counteract. Saw numerous species of birds, turtles and big bastard alligators. They do have the Florida panther there but he must have been sleeping. My favourite creature was a Alligator called ‘snappy’, he had a belter of a smile and kept on winking at me as if to say “fit like en min” or maybe “aye aye, ye look affa gid fer lunch”, whichever it was we got on well from a distance.
Back on the road and heading south for the most southerly point of USA, incredible series of islands on the way to cross and the 12 mile bridge where True Lies was filmed lay ahead. Stopped off at the ocean and managed to summon up the courage to go paddling up to my knees,,,whoa you may say but I hear the little shark blighters can get you in 3ft of water, call me paranoid.
All in all I wasn’t expecting much out of the Miami trip but it turned out to be incredible only for the great hospitality and friendship shown by Richard, Nic and all their friends. I managed to cram so much into a short stay thanks to being chauffeured around the place and toured to places I never would have found on my own, muchas gracias amigos.
I flew out early the next morning and due to the spring break the airport was absolute chaos. I had to scam my way to the front of the cue as not to miss my gate, much to the distaste of many behind me, “comin though!” Just as well I did because I only had minutes to spare. Miami – La Paz, South America next continent here I come. Wahae!

American Idol auditions in Miami, i got a chance.

Miami.
All I can say at the mo is, this is me getting some beats down in Barry Gibb's (from the Bee Gees) House. You may ask how I ended up there well I shall tell you later.



Currently in Bolivia La Paz now. Absolutely amazing place, very good people, El panorama es muy lindo. Spanish lessons, 4 hours a day and studying lots. Staying with a lovely Bolivian family, so got to get my Spanish better so I don't sound so retarded. Uno, dos, tres, quatro,,,,,,,, hasta luego amigos.
Lots and lots to tell but nae time at the mo, gotta get on. Muchos besos to you all.

San Fran,,,,,Here comes the sun, fit fine.

Pleasant flight. On approach to San Francisco International airport, it seemed apparent from looking outside that I would have no use for my fleece, jacket and scarf in this town. Time to get the Hulk pants on and sunscreen out I think. Sure enough, I was looking down the barrel of 5 days averaging 20-27 degrees, what hardship.
Came out of the train station, up escalators and looked around, street performers, musicians, trams, old fella’s playing chess & not a jacket in sight. This is going to be a good few days I suspect.
Hostel was large, great location, friendly atmosphere and clean. First night went for a long walk through Chinatown, where the streets were vibrant with markets, restaurants and tacky San Fran souvenirs. The long hilly street lead me into little Italy next to Washington Square where I stopped for a pizza, huge portion, muchos cheapos. On the way back I past a pub called the Edinburgh Castle and of course had to investigate, turned out to be a guy from Greenock who owned it. Alan ended up giving me a couple of pints on the house before making my merry way home to the hostel, the hot weather and walking had taken its toll for the day. (Oh yeah and the free pints).
Was feeling brave the next morning and decided to take a run down Market Street to the Golden Gate Park. Pheewww! Bad idea almost had a stroke on the way. Decided to walk the last mile through Haite street which is full of interesting spots. On approach to the park there was a number of people with placard boards demanding a proper inquest into the 911 investigation. I had thought that there was going to be clashes of arguments and shouting but was very tame. I learned that there was also an anti war demo on Golden Gate Bridge earlier in the day, with a group called think pink? The bridge was a good distance from where I was so I gave it a miss, plus I didn’t have anything in pink.
The Golden Gate park is apparently one of the biggest urban centre parks in the world, 5 miles from the entrance gate to the beach. I also think it sells the most dope than any other city park, on walking 15 mins to hippy hill I must have been offered “hey man, want some weed dude?” 15 times, “Nae thanks min I dinna de at”. Hippy Hill is basically a larger version of the hill in Kelvingrove park (well kind of,, nae neds of course), hundreds of folk sitting around taking it easy, down at the bottom of the hill was a group of approximately 50 musicians and dancers, all performing together, lots of bongos. I decided to take a wee seat, eat my sandwiches made at breakfast and enjoy the free show. During the show, I saw what looked like a Vietnam vet in a wheelchair drunken dancing and screaming (kinda like Tom Cruise in born on the 4th of July, but scarier), a wee fat guy with a wooden samurai sword practising his version of the ancient art (maybe it was the star wars kid), a small dog the size of a rat getting stood on right next to me even after my attempts to warm the clumsy oaf (quite a yelp the wee fella gave), when 30 minutes had past a man behind me obviously had nominated himself as the park timekeeper and would yell the current time followed by Huraaaaaa! (and much laughter) and much more.
It would seem people park in the park in San Fran. Sure why not eh.
At the hostel I met a really sound Swiss guy and Ozzy girl so was great to hang out with new chums. I was a bit worried the 1st night I arrived as there was a gaming conference next door and it seemed everyone in the place was a Gamer Nerd, “hey man wanna play some Doom”,,”errrrr anyone got Pro Evolution Soccer”, apparently that’s not for a true gamer, if only they new, poor cretins. One guy Jeff, nice guy, but a bit strange for the whole time I stayed in the hostel he sat with his shades on in the lounge playing some crazy role-play game on his laptop. I was sitting there one night minding my own business and all I heard from Jeff was “Shit I gotta get me some crossbow bolts” or ‘Dammit, Zargon cast a spell on my army of Zorg”, ok Jeff nice talking to you, you take care now.
Homelessness seems to be a pretty bad problem in San Francisco, most of the beggars are pretty polite though and not threatening at all from what I saw. Plenty of poor folk who really should be in some form of mental care, especially those who are veterans.
Myself and the Ozzy girl Anna went on a big cycle ride which was brilliant, hired the bikes in the morning for $15 and then took off round the south beach, best way to see the city, but be warned there are some steep hills. Over the Golden Gate bridge in the afternoon, blazing sunshine, reach mid point of the bridge and free wheel all the way down, superb. Hit the other side and again free wheel all the way down to this gorgeous wee town, late lunch break. It took us a few hours to get to where we were and the clock was ticking to get the bikes back, fortunately for us there was a ferry leaving at 4 o’clock, nice and plenty other cyclists had the same idea. Only took about 20 mins to rocket across the bay and got real close to the infamous Alcatraz which was great, welcome to the rock, whersh my shlippersh mish money penny.
That night after a quick bite to eat I was totally shattered and in bed by 10, light weight. Also to make things worse I had a repeat of my experience in Nigeria, head band Sam, Mr Red Head. Bright red burnt forehead with white line where head band was, real cool Fiddes, real cool.
Hasta luego.

Oh Yeah, and I got married, sorry I didn't have time to send out the invites but it was a last minute affair, you understand I'm sure. We get on affa well an isn't she an affa bonny lass, fit fine.

Chicago Blues coming from the LAP'. (Finally)

Plenty of snow again on arrival, greeted also by a fierce chill from the wind bounding off Lake Michigan, this must be the windy City then. Long train journey into Downtown Chicago, then through onto Diversey, just south of the city centre. Area is littered with wee coffee shops, pubs and canny shops. This is isn’t so bad, maybe just as well I couldn’t get into the downtown hostel.
Chicago International Hostel welcomes you, was on the main placard. Stoned, 20 year old guy behind the check in desk listening to John Foggerty, “Hey man, whhhats up?” “Yo! Man how the f%@k do you say your first name” Nice enough chap but not filling me with confidence about my new abode.
Sure enough the place was actually a bit of a shithole, bit manky and not very trusting about the security of the place. Agh well all I need is a place to lay the head and leave my stuff.
Great city Chicago though, really friendly vibe and lots to be seen. Famous for its Blues & Jazz I was determined to see some of the real McCoy. Was recommended by various folk about a place called “Kingston Mines”, however, was not convinced by the sources. Had a beer one evening and got chatting to the bar staff, was told that the Kingston Mines place was pretty cheesy crap and not the real Blues of Chicago. In fact the bar lady described it as “yeah, go there if you wanna get date raped”. Enough said, I decided not to pry any further but took their word not to go there.
So on to their recommendation, which sounded great but also, had its own perils afoot. No.83 bus to the west side which I’m told is the slightly less desirable area of Chicago. No wallet, cash in shoe, muggers 20 bill in pocket, call me John Paranoid. Hopped of the bus and to be honest the place seemed totally fine, a bit like Drumchapel. 10 minute walk round to the wee pub called “Scarlets”. Totally brilliant, the place has been old by an Italian family since the 50’s who moved over. On entering, the place was wall to wall with old photographs of performers whom had played there in the past, low ceilings and a long bar with the stage adjacent to end of bar. Really sound bar staff who, realised quickly I was a newcomer, maybe it was the map case flapping in my face. Anyway the night was great listening to both really talented old timers and young folk playing traditional blues. Generally it was one at a time, guitar and their own vocals. At the end three guys played together, harmonising one another,. Absolutely fantastic. Bus ride home at 1:00 was fine, nae hassle.
Most of the days were spent wandering around the city centre and Diversey. Great city for walking, the river is fantastic to walk along and was disappointed not to see it turn green for St Patrick’s day, 2 weeks early for that. The atmosphere I found a wee bit more relaxed than in NYC, everyone seems in less of a rush but again the place is enormous. Saw many a good gallery and had plenty of wee coffee shop experiences. The trains slither around skyscrapers on raised industrial platforms, you can hear them all over as they clank and creak.
That’s really about it for now, looking forward to San Francisco; I hear they have some fine weather preparing for my arrival. Hope you are all well, viva Alba.

Chicago Blog in progress

my head is a bit warped at mo with the hot spells in San Fran. :)

Niagra Falls from the Tower