Some places have to be seen to be believed. During my second month in South America I drove south from La Paz towards the town of Uyuni in southern Bolivia: A base for the world’s largest, and highest salt lake.
Many consider sun, surf culture and endless sprawling coastline to be synonymous with Australia. Of course, it has all the above in droves, but it also has frosty winter mornings, ski fields and snow. As we enter the deep dark depths of British winter, I look back at a colder version of the world’s hottest country.
A drizzly day in Vilnius can be deceptive. Rain hits the greys of dilapidated tower blocks and the cobbled streets of the old town are shiny underfoot.
From a thin slice of fertile land that extends into the lakes of Lithuania’s southeast, wooden jetties push into the still water dangling narrow fishing boats and colourful pedalos.
A large, friendly zebra carefully took the hand of a small child before looking both ways along a hectic main road. Then, calmly and upright, the pair began to cross to the backdrop of angry horns and revving engines. Once safe, the animal left the child and turned to repeat the process with someone else.
Puno is an unremarkable town in southern Peru. It has some dreary tower blocks, a mall of sorts and, from personal experience, a shabby restaurant on a side street somewhere that cooks amazing fried rice.
“Give me your simplest fish”. I chirped nervously as I rolled onto the leather couch. In a narrow Cusco street I’d decided to get my first, and incidentally, my only tattoo.