*boing* *boing* *boing*

That's what it's like walking on the floating islands of Lake Titicaca. They are very spongy and very bouncy. Like walking on the moon (or what I imagine walking on the moon is like).

The floating islands of Lake Titicaca are all sorts of awesome. The islands are man-made, constructed by the Uros people. The Uros originally built their floating islands for defensive purposes. It's the ultimate tool in a "run away! run away!" strategy. Lake Titicaca is a massive moat protecting them from danger.

To make the islands the Uros use the totora reed. The roots of the reeds form a floating base. Then they put layer upon layer of the reed to form the core of the island. The islands require a lot of maintenance as the reeds at the bottom of the island decompose. So the Uros are constantly putting another layer of reeds on top as the ones at the bottom rot away.

The Uros actually use the reed for all sorts of things. They make boats and houses out of it. They even eat it. So very green!

They also make little craft items from the reeds to sell to the tourists. There were the cutest mobiles which I really wanted to buy. But I knew there was no way that I'd get the plant matter past Australian customs. Damn you customs!

You can't help but be impressed by the ingenuity of the Uros. It was an amazing place to visit.


More photos (slideshow) on Flickr.

Our visit to Lake Titicaca was part of our trip to South America. We visited Argentina, Peru, Bolivia and Chile in the space of a few weeks. This is the first entry from that trip.

There is a song that is being played on commercial radio at the moment and the chorus goes like this:

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.

When I listen to this song I'm reminded of standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building in New York. I can remember standing there, looking out into the night sky and noticing bright points of light. At first I thought they were stars but then I realised they were moving. They were aeroplanes on their way into one of New York's three airports (probably JFK). It was amazing how many you could see. There were dozens of twinkling, shiny (very slow) shooting stars in the sky.

Andrew and I visited the Empire State Building at about 11.30pm after seeing the Knicks play basketball at Madison Square Gardens. It was the perfect time to visit as there was no one there. We breezed through the queuing area and went straight into the lift. I was glad that we had chosen such an unusual time to visit as it was quite a long walk through the snaking catchment area. If we'd have gone during the day that catchment area would have been crowded with people.

It was freezing on the outdoor observation deck. Andrew spent most of his time outside trying to take photos of the view which was quite difficult because of the low light conditions (and because his hands were frozen). I would go out periodically for a little bit of a look and then head back inside to thaw out.



Here is a photo of a cranky man. Andrew was taking photos of the lift area and this man yelled at him because he was in the photo and how dare Andrew take photos of him. He was really rude about it too so I'm posting it here on fushmush just to spite him. Rudeness will get you nowhere.

More photos (slideshow) of New York on Flickr.

Our visit to the Empire State Building was part of our trip to New York. We visited New York in December 2007 to celebrate New Year's Eve in Times Square style. We also did heaps of other New Yorky stuff. This is the first entry from that trip.

Oia is a small village on the north-western end of the island of Santorini. Its claim to fame is its sunset. Supposedly from Oia you can view the best sunset in the whole of Greece. Oia's position on the island does mean that you have an uninterrupted view of the sun as it sinks below the horizon into the ocean.

The problem is, you have to share this beautiful sunset with a crowd. Oia's reputation precedes it and the lookout points are so packed there isn't room to move. So if you think you're going to be able to enjoy a beautiful sunset - just you and your significant other, you might have to adjust your thinking a little to include hundreds of significant others.

Of course, it probably helps if you get there a little earlier to stake out a good vantage point. We were staying at Thira which was a bit of a drive away from Oia. We left Thira a bit late and ended up speeding along the highway, racing the sunset, trying to get to Oia before the sun sunk too low in the sky. After finally getting to Oia we then spent more valuable minutes rushing through the narrow alleyways looking for the sunset lookout point. It was a bit stressful. Maybe you shouldn't do that.

In the end, I didn't really rate the sunset from Oia. Mostly because on our evening at Oia the clouds obscured most of the sunset. We viewed more spectacular sunsets from our balcony at Thira. Like the one below.

Our visit to Oia was part of the Aegean Odyssey. Mum, Dad, Andrew and I spent a few weeks in Croatia and Greece with a quick visit to Slovenia and Austria in the middle. Other entries from this trip include: Abandoned Houses in Croatia, Breakfast on Santorini, Plitvice Lakes National Park, Sunset in Zadar, Sea Organ, Blessed are the cheesemakers and Climbing in Croatia.

On the great Aegean Odyssey of 2009, Mum, Dad, Andrew and I drove through Croatia to Ljubljana in Slovenia. With a few detours for sight-seeing it was a journey of over 600km done over the course of a week (I guess the distance shouldn't be that impressive to us Aussies). Andrew drove, I navigated and Mum and Dad sat in the back and felt uncomfortable when Andrew and I argued (which at least was less than on our first road trip in Spain).

One of our stops was the beautiful Plitvice Lakes National Park, which I've blogged about here. As we drove north, away from Plitvice towards Ljubljana, we began to notice abandoned, ruined houses. Not just one or two here or there, but dozens.

These are houses that were abandoned by Serbs as they fled the region at the end of the Croatian War of Independence. They are still empty because their owners haven't returned to claim them. Maybe because they don't want to return or maybe because it's just too hard.

I think these houses would be really interesting to explore from an urban decay perspective. Like the abandoned town of Paldiski in Estonia. However, Lonely Planet warns you against poking around in the ruined houses because there might be unexploded shells or mines in the ruins. Even the remote possibility of blowing up was enough to keep me away.

Our visit to Croatia was part of the Aegean Odyssey. Mum, Dad, Andrew and I spent a few weeks in Croatia and Greece with a quick visit to Slovenia and Austria in the middle. Other entries from this trip include: Breakfast on Santorini, Plitvice Lakes National Park, Sunset in Zadar, Sea Organ, Blessed are the cheesemakers and Climbing in Croatia.

Andrew and I have been known to visit the odd attraction for a bit of morbid touristing. We added the Chapel of Bones in Évora to our Portugal trip because it sounded creepy (and it was). We also visited the Catacombs of San Sebastiano in Rome because I was tempted by the thought of exploring dark tunnels filled with bones a la Indiana Jones. I can remember being disappointed when there were no bones or skulls in the Roman catacombs. So when I read about the Catacombs of Paris, which are actually filled with skulls and bones, I knew it was somewhere I wanted to visit.

And that's basically what the Catacombs of Paris are - tunnels filled with skulls and bones. The tunnels were the solution for an overflowing Saints-Innocents cemetery. In the graveyard the dead were interred straight into the ground in mass graves. As the cemetery started to fill, the decaying bodies were not only very smelly but started to cause issues with the Parisian water supply.

The cemetery was a source of revenue for the church so they continued burials even when the graveyard was full to bursting... literally. In 1780, the cellar wall of a restaurant adjoining the cemetery collapsed and the cellar filled with a mix of bones and putrid flesh (yuk!). The government decided enough was enough. They closed the cemetery and moved all its inhabitants into the tunnels - abandoned stone quarries - on the outskirts of the city.

When the bones were transferred, they weren't haphazardly piled in corners. The bones line the walls of the tunnel and have been arranged in beautiful patterns. There is even one section where skulls are artfully organised in heart-shaped patterns.

So, are the catacombs worth a visit? Well, they are morbidly interesting. The inscription over the entrance reads "Arrête, c'est ici l'empire de la Mort"..."Stop, this is the empire of Death". The tunnels are the perfect site for an ossuary. They are dark, cold and damp. The average temperature is only 14 degrees and the sound of dripping water only adds to the atmosphere. But they are also long - the tunnel route is two kilometres and it did get a bit boring after a while. (They should add rats! and flaming torches! and Arab men chasing after you trying to stop you from recovering the Holy Grail! Hrm, that Indiana Jones influence coming through again. I think I just want to be Indiana Jones.)


Who knows, one day my bones may become a tourist attraction. As an avid traveller I don't really have a problem with that.

More photos (slideshow) on Flickr.