Even long journeys come to an end at some point. The Eternal Dilemma Today is another one of those last days. They are always a mixture of joy and sadness. The prospect of good bread and coffee, pasta that tastes like pasta and not cardboard, a hot bath, drinking water from the tap, heated rooms when it's cold, ...
After the best sleep ever in the softest bed ever, I am surprised by the best breakfast ever. It's true - the gods are giving me a very welcome gift of compensation as a farewell (after all, they are responsible for various capers, especially climatic events and other things). A few older gentlemen nod at me while I eat eggs, fruit juice...
In the morning at the “Zohar Hostel” I don’t get a friendly farewell for a change (especially the hotel manager, a rumpled woman who is no longer in her prime, gives me the famous looks that could kill). Bad Vibes Apparently my refusal to accept a room without a private bathroom was met with bad blood. Is …
Then the last 420 kilometers. The 10 a.m. bus is reserved, nothing stands in the way of the last part of my journey. However, there is a vague feeling that the journey could take longer than the stated eight hours. But let's see. I take the metro again, this time without interruptions (on yesterday's journey...
Medellin. A kind of coming home. One look is enough to see what has changed since last week. The city lies under a thick blanket of smog. Smog over Medellin Damn! So after last September in Delhi, the wretched thing caught up with me once again. Although widely discussed on TV news,...
And another goodbye, one that hurts. Adios Cartagena Knowing that a night bus is waiting for me this evening, which promises another torture of over 10 hours, I take the last day in Cartagena calmly, almost meditatively. I leave the city behind me, the roar of the car and bus engines, the...
Apparently my hotel has only been in operation since last December. However, the misconsiderations, construction defects and all sorts of damage are already visible today and are absolutely typical of the talents of the architects and craftsmen in this regard. Light switches, sockets, shower heads, taps and door locks are generally either installed in the wrong place or do not work at all or only work after several unsuccessful attempts. …
On that miserable night, I remember with nostalgia the wonderful buses of the “Cruz del Sur” company, the Cama seats, the warm blankets, the soft pillows, the leg rests, on the journey from Cusco to Lima. You can only dream of that here. After a few hours you somehow found some sleep, but...
The night bus to Cartagena doesn't leave until eight (if I'm lucky and get a ticket). So I have almost a whole day left to enjoy the city again. First destination: the Museo Casa de Memoria. It is intended to commemorate the bad times when the city was a theater of war, one of the cruelest...
The WIFI doesn't work that night of all days, and so I sleep towards the morning relatively unmolested, while 10 kilometers to the northeast a funny little girl named Mila Sofia comes into the world. Welcome to our world, princess Mila Sofia! I must have felt it somehow, because early in the morning, the iPad in...
Did I mention that it's raining again? It's raining. At breakfast everyone crowds under the large parasol or umbrella and fights for space. But since it's a warm rain, it doesn't bother anyone. Well, and then another farewell, but without tears. Another bus with a hopefully less mentally weak...
I have to talk again about the special pleasure of a perfect breakfast. This one, in the 'Ruta de Sur', gets the Oscar for the richest, most loving, most tasteful of the trip so far. Also the environment, which God knows can be different, sometimes musty, somewhere alone in a huge, dark room or standing on a...
For once the bus terminal is close, so I walk through the rain-soaked streets (of course, it rains all the time here too) and get to the train station in time for the long journey to Cali. The bus is comfortable and, so to speak, empty. Next to me there are just four noses lost inside, the devil knows how...
I mentally prepare myself for the next few days. It's going to be hard. Roughly speaking, there are still over 2000 kilometers waiting for me if the tank isn't empty beforehand (the first signs are noticeable). The current plan (which can change quickly) is to cross the border into Colombia (the eighth and...
Firstly, today's trip should be more to my liking than yesterday's and secondly, it should be a real highlight. The Cotopaxi, the infamous active volcano not far from Quito, is today's destination. Again the bus is ready to leave at seven, and in contrast to yesterday, the average age of the participants has fallen massively. Dutch, Australians, Brazilians, Americans…
I remember a novel whose last chapter was called “The Middle of the World.” However, it wasn't about geographical terms but about leaving and letting go and the fear that everything is in vain and that you will end up back in the same place. The first trip – to the middle of the world That’s what it’s all about…
The “Yellow House” also turns out to be a pleasant find, run by a German, Gabriela, who has been living in Ecuador for years and has helped the establishment achieve something of a European standard. However, there are no heaters in Quito, located at almost 3000 meters, so last night I went among the many...
The effects of the rains, which of course did not stop at the border with Ecuador, are also visible on the journey north. Sometimes you have the impression of being on a moving island. To the right and left of the road there are flooded meadows and fields, houses that are submerged in water up to the ground floor, paths that are barely...
For once I am not woken up by the noise of the street or by restless roommates, but by a wild flash of lightning that leaves deep scars in the night sky. The sky falls to the earth Aha, that could be the beginning of 'Tumbes aislado'. The first signs of the coming storm. So no journalist cheese after all? The next wake-up call is a...
Even before showering and eating and sleeping, it became clear last night that there isn't a single bus going north. The horror images shown on television are proof enough that nothing, absolutely nothing, works there anymore. Many bridges have been destroyed, washed away and shattered to fragments. From the streets all the way to...
During the long hours of the night, all you can hear on the bus is the quiet, steady hum of the engine. Sometimes an armchair groans under the heavy movements of a sleeper, sometimes barely audible breathing or snoring or groaning. The bus makes its way, almost silently, controlled by the (hopefully) alert eyes of the chauffeur, over mountains and passes, in the dark...
Tonight we have a very special challenge, the trip to Lima. The ticket at 'Cruz del Sur' is booked, departure at 14.00 p.m., travel time 18 hours. That will be fun. However, the news from northern Peru worries me a bit. The images on the television are reminiscent of the 2004 tsunami, terrible scenes that...
Cusco is the absolute, undisputed highlight of Peru. Unlike other places, I remember it well. On the scale of 1 to 10 regarding tourism, the city receives at least an eleven, and in this case this is definitely meant positively. I look forward to seeing one of the most interesting and attractive places...
The taxi driver is at the door at a quarter to seven, a short 'Hasta Luego' and on we go. Today will not be much different from yesterday, a long drive through monotonous landscapes where sometimes no living creature can be seen for hours. Travel like you're on a plane Today I bought myself a particularly luxurious...
The breakfast room opens at seven sharp for the feeding of the predators, the appropriate pancakes are ready, as is the coffee, and somewhere a lady with a cap on her head is floating around, heavily from sleep. Cold coffee So it would just have to be in time for me to make it to the nearby bus station by half past seven. …
A difference (one of the few) to La Paz from 1981 is easy to see. It is the gondola lift that connects the city's most important districts in several lines. Gondola up to El Alto A little information about this: In the summer of 2012, Bolivian President Evo Morales announced the construction of three cable car lines that would be...
The bus even reached its destination La Paz an hour before its scheduled arrival. With two friends, met in Uyuni shortly before departure, we first look for a place where we can get a coffee. It's five in the morning, pitch black, the restaurants are still closed, only a small bar is open. A determined lady…
A village appears for a moment, bathed in dim moonlight. Not a single light burns in the gathering of dark houses and dead alleys. The village remains behind us, we rush on, quickly, quickly, only the monotonous hum of the engine in our ears, towards the invisible horizon, the full moon as a silent sentinel above us. The tired mind...
Exactly two people showed up for breakfast, as it turns out an older Dutchman and a very wiry and strong-looking and tanned Englishman. The Running Man I start a conversation with him, and it turns out that I am dealing with an extraordinary specimen of the human species. You rarely meet them, sometimes you read...
The night went well, despite the cramped conditions at 4000 meters there were no symptoms at all. Breakfast in the midst of a thousand people and a terrible mess is a creative chaos because everyone is cooking or preparing something different. But I like it. Mass with fireworks The departure of the bus is delayed. You give yourself…
In contrast to previous experiences, there are a lot of buses from Sucre to Potosi, even during the day. So you can choose between a very dilapidated bus or a slightly less run-down bus. It doesn't matter, the journey only takes a few hours, although with considerable inclines. Potosi is located at exactly 4000 meters. …
I wander through Sucre for the last time with a wistful feeling. The city has grown on me within a short time. If it weren't for the smelly micro-buses, it would be a place where you could definitely imagine living for a while. These vehicles are the only public transport in the city, half-sized, completely dilapidated buses, ...
The poet Jean Paul said: “Memory is the only paradise from which we cannot be expelled.” Travel is not only an inexhaustible source, it is a volcano, a geyser of memories. Every day offers new impressions, never-seen images, encounters, faces. And whenever you think you've seen everything, experienced everything...
Maybe it's a mistake, but I was persuaded to skip the extremely arduous nighttime bus ride to Sucre and book the 30-minute flight instead. So instead of taking the night bus this evening, I'm at the tiny airport (probably an airfield) at nine, I'm checked in in seconds and shortly afterwards I realize that...
A new feeling in bed early in the morning: you leave the much thicker and warmer blanket pulled up to your chin and wonder whether the shower produces hot or at least warm water. The heat is behind us, the temperature in the early morning is estimated at 15 degrees, about half that...
Although the boss at the hotel promised me that he would provide me with a proper breakfast half an hour earlier than normal, there is no one to be seen at exactly seven, or is there? Is the figure groaning as he rises from a chair the boss? In any case, he looks like he spent the night there. …
Something wakes me up in the middle of the night, a strange noise that somehow sounds familiar. An avalanche of water, a flash flood from the sky. At first just an occasional pop, but then the pop pop pop pop popped faster and faster - I notice that it's starting to rain; what a wonderful feeling under the covers! – and then we realize…
So then day two in Asuncion, let's see if there are other sights besides the beautiful places and the friendly people. Alfredo Strössner – dictator for life If you want to understand the city (and the country), you have to leaf through the history book. Even if you don't know much about Paraguay, sooner or later you'll dive...
Sometimes when you least expect them, they suddenly appear, these rare moments of harmony and total inner peace. And they always appear when something is over, like last night on the bus, like that wonderful morning in Asuncion. I'm sitting in a tiny coffee shop, diagonally across from my...
Actually, I've checked off the waterfalls, it can't get any better. However, it is always pointed out to me that the Brazilian side of the cases is just as exciting and, above all, different. All right. Bus #120 goes straight to the park entrance, a short half hour ride. I sit down next to a light-skinned...
There are two ways to explore Iguaçu Falls. One is on the Argentine side, the other on the Brazilian side. I'll start with the Argentine side. Iguaçu in Argentina So we cross the Argentinian border, once again take out our passport, put our stamp in, and then we finally head towards the park entrance. However, the journey takes…
Modern man has no time to take his time. There are a thousand things to do, a thousand deadlines to meet, while ten thousand thoughts race through your confused head. A study has shown that the average person's thoughts over the course of a day are almost 100 percent the same as the thoughts they have thought millions of times. It...
The old man in charge of the early morning reception looks a little wizened in his pajamas and tired eyes. We exchange sleepy looks. He greets me with a hoarse voice, and I greet me with the same voice, because it's only half past five. All I want is to hand over the key and go to the...
It must be early morning, faint twilight, but it could also be the light of the streetlights. As has often happened before, in an unfamiliar new place, a strange confusion creeps in: I don't know where I am. The world is silent and dark. Looking at the clock would solve the mystery, but I'm...
At some point in the night, I can hardly open my sticky eyes, a rather obese Brazilian woman squeezes herself into the empty seat next to me, armed with two very heavy-looking bags, which she squeezes onto the floor between the seat and the front backrest and after loud discussions with her their companions relax with all sorts of strange noises...
In my hostel, life is like a calm river: shortly after nine o'clock a few sleepy figures stagger out of their respective rooms, sit on the sofa and watch some TV. In South America it seems to be normal not to have breakfast until half past eight, but it can be half past nine before coffee...
Then bye-bye Buenos Aires. Our relationship was short and intense, almost like an extended one-night stand. So once again I say goodbye to a place where I felt comfortable, backpack on my back (has it gotten heavier?), a quick handshake, one last 'see you' and the chill house is a thing of the past. The streets are …
From a distance, says Charly Chaplin, life is a comedy, from up close it is a tragedy. He's right. But as a traveler, are you ever able to see behind the facade? Do you even want that? To where it hurts? I doubt it. People prefer the glossy version. The beautiful and the…
There are many reasons to like Buenos Aires, one of them, a somewhat morbid one, is the City of the Dead – El Cementerio de la Recoleta. The attraction of cemeteries has haunted me throughout my life. I have no idea why that is (I'm not the only one though, I was told to reassure). I want...
It's always amazing how quickly people recover from the strain of a long flight and more than thirty sleepless hours. In any case, everything seems to be fine in the morning. The smells of fresh coffee wafting in from outside are so tempting that your stomach starts to growl loudly. The Chillhouse The…
As evolution has shown, humans are extremely adaptable creatures. Otherwise it would hardly have become the somewhat controversial crown of creation. However, it is questionable whether evolution also envisaged being cooped up inside a fairly thin metal shell, 12 hours in a seat that was far too narrow, with hardly any opportunity to stretch out your legs, in between...
I'm standing in the middle of the Puerta del Sol, the large square in the center of Madrid, and I'm amazed. Because the language that I hear around me is not the fast, choppy Madrileno that swallows up consonants and vowels, no, it rather sounds like, yes, what? Italian? Somehow yes and yet also not. It takes a…