Not happy Jan

Following the debacle of getting back to civilisation, this morning's ride continued to challenge me in more ways than one. From the back roads of the Piazza Armerina farming area, I rode south-east to the town or Mirabella, and from there continued on to the town of Caltagirone. The weather was a devil: windy with an icy bite, and light rain that came down regularly if intermittently. Plus, I was the victim of bad signage both in Mirabella, and upon reaching Caltagirone. The signs in Mirabella weren't too bad — it's only a small town, and the road onwards to Caltagirone is one of only a handful in the area — but in Caltagirone itself, I got seriously lost. So all up, not the most pleasant start to the day. But not all was doom and gloom: I at least made it to Caltagirone in time for a great hot choc and pastry; and I was able to take refuge in the coffee bar there for about ½ an hour, while I waited out a heavy downpour of rain.

There's one thing that stands out in my mind, more than anything else, about today: it was really bloody windy! Today's riding was plagued by the worst, the strongest, and the most unpleasant head wind imaginable; and it stayed with me all day long. As I rode west from Lercara to Prizzi, through the Sicilian Mafia highlands with my semi-flat tyre; as I continued north to the infamous town of Corleone; and as I set up camp in an empty field for the night. Always, the wind was there: it was utterly relentless; and it battered not only my body and my bike, but also my spirit. Bad wind is the worst thing I've come across so far on this trip, and all I wish for is that it will end soon. It feels like every metre forward is a struggle against the forces of nature, which are impelling me to just give up and go home. Arghhh!

This afternoon, I popped into Rome's Termini train station, to buy myself a train ticket down to Sicily. Since I've just bought my new bike, I'm going to have to take that with me on the train — but I'd heard that trains in Italy were particularly bike-friendly, and that you can take your bike on most inter-city trains; so I wasn't expecting this to be a problem. Turns out that this isn't quite true: you basically can't take a bike on any of the "express" or "long-distance" trains; you can only take them on "local" trains, which stop at every little village along the way, and which only travel within regional boundaries. Eek! It's going to be an interesting trip down to Sicily.

Especially when you go by bus. I'm talking twenty-four hours straight kinda long, direct (-ish) from Foz do Iguaçu. My first bus experience in Brazil, from yesterday evening to this evening, was not a positive one: very tedious; quite uncomfortable; and outrageously expensive. All in all, a really rude shock, especially after the "sheer bussing pleasure" that is backpacking in Argentina. What's going on, Brazil? Why do your buses suck so bad?

Today was the first day of my life that I tried snowboarding. And as such, I was pretty keen on getting lessons. I'd heard that you can get group lesson and board hire combinations, up here at Cerro Catedral. Well, let's just say that the ski/snowboard school situation here at Catedral is nothing like what I'm used to, and nothing like what I was hoping for. It's an absolute mess, and an expensive one at that. There are almost 10 separate, privately-run ski schools operating at this place — there's no official, resort-run "Catedral ski school" (unlike what every ski resort in Australia has) — and none of these schools are cheap. None of them operate proper, public group lessons, either. Well, I'll be daymed if I'm shelling out megabucks for private snowboarding lessons — don't need them, and can't afford them.

Had a bit of an annoying experience this afternoon: got locked out my my hostel, El Refugio! The owner, Peter, gave me a key to the front door when I arrived this morning; but when I tried to get back inside, after going down the road for some lunch, the key wouldn't work. I could feel the lock trying to open, but it just wouldn't. After trying to open the daym door for about an hour, I gave up and went for a bike ride. Anyway, when I got back this evening, Peter said that he hadn't been able to open the door either, this evening. Apparently, the problem has now been fixed, courtesy of a large amount of WD-40.

After getting through my two connecting flights yesterday evening, from Quito to Santiago, I arrived back in Chile at about 2am this morning. Let's just say that I had a bit of a "rough" welcome. They let me into the country in the end: but not until I'd paid yet another gringo tax. Which, upon stepping off the plane, I quite literally could not afford.

I woke up this morning, in my dorm room at the Secret Garden in Quito, to find a very nasty surprise indeed. It seems that yesterday evening — when we were all upstairs on the terrace, having dinner and a few beers — someone came into Dorm F, and went through everyone's bags. They took everything that was unlocked, valuable, and lying around. Sadly, I was the worst hit: they emptied my money belt of its cash (about US$150); and even worse, they stole my new camera. Nooo — not again! Please g-d, why? This is about the worst way that my time in Ecuador could have possibly ended. It's going to leave me with a very bad taste of this country indeed. And as for Quito: well, I wasn't sure before, but now I'm quite certain — I simply am not too fond of this city.

When I went exploring in Quito yesterday, I also did some shopping around for Cotopaxi mountain-climbing tours. One of the tour agencies in town, Gulliver, told me that they had one person looking for a partner, to do the climb on Monday and Tuesday. I told them that they could put me down as confirmed for going on the climb as well. However, when I got back to Quito from Pululahua this afternoon, and phoned them up to confirm for tomorrow, they told me that they now had 4 people for the climb, and that I couldn't come any more! Gulliver's have ditched me: not the nicest thing a tour agency can do to its customers.

In my past few days in Ecuador, I've already started to experience something that I didn't experience elsewhere in my South American travels, and that I find extremely brash and insulting. For a million little things around here — for bus tickets, for set lunches, and even for bottles of water — Ecuadorians seem to believe in "special tourist prices". I had about three incidents, just today, where the seller quoted me one price, and then suddenly changed their mind and said: "hang on, actually it's $x more". And when I ask "why", they say: "well, the first price is only for locals — you're a tourist". Pr#$ks.