The Driest Place on Earth

We arrived at Calama Airport in northern Chile on a beautiful evening and were driven across the Atacama Desert to San Pedro, a small village which is growing thanks to the influx of tourists since it was connected by a tarred road for the first time a few years ago.

The desert is apparently the driest place on earth with around an inch of rain a year and some areas often record zero humidity.  It is mining country with the world's largest open-cast copper mine near to Calama and of course the now famous site of this years mining rescue a few hundred kms to the south.


Moon Valley just before sunset

The geology is extraordinary.  The desert has been created in a basin formed between the surrounding  mountain ranges and volcanos which have been pushed up as a result of the fault that runs all along Chile's coast. The mountains take what little rain and snow there is and the water has evaporated from the basin leaving the world's third largest salt flat. San Pedro sits in an Oasis in the middle as a result of underground water draining from the mountains so it has water and vegetation. For a dry town it has its fair share of bars too!
So far we have been on a tour of the salt flats and seen the flamingos that live in the protected area and visited the lakes that have been created by volcanic activity at over 4200m above sea level - the highest we have ever been. We have also visited Death Valley and Moon Valley which lie within a mountain range created entirely from salt. We explored a cave, learned about the rock formations and watched the sun set over the Arizona style landscape.

Flamingos on the Atacama salt flats

The human history of the area is also fascinating and the local museum charts human development here over 11,000 years through the archaeological finds that have been made in the area. The dryness preserves things superbly (including human bodies, which alas are no longer on show).  We went to two of the main local ruins and heard about the development of the Andean culture, the peaceful conquest by the Incas in the 15th century and the rather more bloody arrival of the Spanish a century later.

It is here in San Pedro that we are seeing out the old year. 2010 has been good to us - especially for the chance we have had to see some more of the world. In the last four weeks of 2010 we have seen Rio, Buenos Aires, the huge falls at Iguazu, glaciers, volcanos, lakes, forests and had the unforgettable experience of Torres del Paine.

We hope for an even better 2011 and wish everyone reading this a happy and prosperous new year.

Volcanic Activity

Leaving the Baobab Hotel behind we drove the truck northwards along bumpy dirt roads and through dense forests with occasional views of lakes shimmering in the sunshine. In the course of the first hour we saw just one other motor vehicle and a couple of ox-drawn carts.  Most of the locals in the only village we saw waved to us - we don't think they get much passing trade.

Leaving the developing world behind, a few kms up the road the scenery becomes more like England's green and pleasant land.  Our next stop was the thermal springs at Huife, one of a number of places in the Lakes where the volcanic activity results in hot springs. We spent a very nice 24 hours at a spa hotel there soaking up the heat of the 41 degree outdoor pools and having some hydromassage.

The highlight of our week in the Lakes was saved till last as we climbed to the summit of Villarrica, the active volcano that towers over the town of Pucon. It's a picture-book volcano, 2850m high and shaped like an upside down cone with the top half covered in snow. Best of all it actually smokes!

Volcan Villarrica - with smoke

Starting halfway up we climbed the remaining 1400m in five hours, trudging slowly but steadily upwards following our guide's snowy footprints. We were lucky as it is often too cloudy to climb or the wind blows the noxious fumes in the wrong direction. We were able to see inside the crater and enjoy the panoramic views of lakes and several other volcanos until the wind did change briefly and we got a couple of lungfuls of water vapour laced with sulphuric and phosphoric acids - time to descend.

The group pauses on the way up

The fuming crater

The descent is quicker. At the crater we donned waterproofs and helmets and tobogganed down the mountain on what looked like green plastic toilet seat covers. Hilarious!

Having grown up in a colder climate than me, Su mastered the toboggan technique more quickly but once I had put it the right way round I managed high speed - mainly because I kept forgetting to use the ice axe as a brake. The other problem was trying to stay feet-first and usually after a few meters I would be hurtling downhill on my back head first.

On one occasion Su had the presence of mind to shout "rocks!" as I rocketed past her which meant I managed to stop myself crashing just in time. It is difficult to see where you are going head first on your back and the briefing didn't cover how to stop yourself in that situation! We got to the bottom in one piece, Su rather more gracefully than me, and my sense of self-preservation has returned.

In Search of the Baobab

Our arrival at the airport in Puerto Montt was our reintroduction to the real world after being thoroughly spoilt at Explora.  However the short ride to neighbouring Puerto Varas with its view of two beautiful snow-covered volcanos across the lake seemed promising.

Feeling rather tired after a five hour drive and two hour flight, we didn't take a photo of the volcanos and it proved to be the last we saw of them in our two night stay.  It seems the Chilean Lake District has a similar reputation for wet weather as its English counterpart.

The low cloud and rain persisted as we headed north on Christmas Eve in the rather unglamourous white pickup truck we have been given by the hire company.  On the way we spotted that our travel itinerary had no address or phone number for our hotel other than the name of a village, Panguipulli.  We arrived in that village five minutes after the tourist office had shut for Xmas but there was a phone number for all the hotels so we headed off in the general direction of where we thought it to be.

The Baobab Hotel

As we headed further inland we lost mobile phone coverage and had to turn back to be able to call.  There was no answer at the hotel or travel agencies in Santiago and London as of course by then on Christmas Eve everyone had, understandably, left.  However by piecing together the information we could get from a roadside map, internet research by Suzanne's sister Carron, our map and a guide book we took an educated guess at where the hotel might be and headed further into the mobile phone black hole that exists on the Argentina-Chile border.Over an hour later, more than 60km from Panguipulli on a dirt road deep in the forest and still unsure of where the hotel was, we pulled up outside the Baobab - the most surreal place either of us have stayed at.  It is seven stories high, built around a tree and hidden in a remote forest between the lakes.  Adjoining it is the equally surreal Magic Mountain lodge and a micro-brewery/pub.  It is, as Su neatly summed it up, bonkers. They are nevertheless sufficiently confident of their business model that there is no address on the website and absolutely no signs on the road.

The Truck (and driver)

In any event we were so pleased that we had found the hotel that would be our home for Christmas Day that we forgot to turn the car lights off and awoke next morning to the flattest of flat batteries.  So Christmas Day started with all three of us (truck included) feeling rather run down but after a kind and very resourceful staff member had revived our truck by starting it using his battery, the sun came out and we felt better again. We gave the truck a run out and visited some remote lakes with beautiful scenery, called home using skype, went for a stroll in the forest down to the lakeside beach in the next town and called in at the neighbouring micro-brewery to sample their excellent produce.

Bizarre though the place is, it is genuinely beautiful with views of the local snow-covered volcano from the roof and a range of lovely lakes surrounded by forested hills nearby. The lakes are almost untouched as the area is so remote and it feels more like Africa with local villages built from wood and corrugated iron. All in all, spending Christmas under the Baobab tree is very nice, always assuming that you can find it in the first place. 

Turning Back

It is a five hour drive from Torres del Paine south to the airport at Punta Arenas, the last town at the tip of the South American continent beyond which there is only the island of Tierra del Fuego, Cape Horn and Antartica.

Patagonia is a beautiful but desolate place with less than one human being per square kilometre (compared to more than 1700/sq km in London and more than 4000 in New York). Here the air is so clear that trees are covered in lichen which only grows where there is no pollution, the sun is strong because of the hole in the ozone layer and the wind whips of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, one of the remaining relics of the ice age.

It is strange to think that here - 53 degrees of latitude south - we are more or less the same distance from the equator as London yet the climate and land is so different.  It has been a real privilege to be here in both Argentina and Chile.

In some ways today is a turning point for us, the end of one long journey and the beginning of another.  For today, after five flights totalling over 22 hours of flying time and two five hour road trips, we complete the journey south from London to Punta Arenas. Now at the halfway point of our South American trip we turn back north starting with a flight to Puerto Montt in the Chilean lake district.

Explora, Torres del Paine

We have had a wonderful four days based at the Explora hotel in the heart of the Torres del Paine national park. The scenery is beautiful and we covered over 40 miles on foot during the various guided hikes.

The hotel has a winning formula.  It has incredible views of the Paine Massif across the lake and is all- inclusive: food, drinks, guided hikes and horse riding (we had a lot of the first three but left the horses alone). But the clever bit is that you can only book four night stays and therefore all the guests arrived on saturday and left the following wednesday which creates a really good atmosphere.

Predictably we ended up in the fastest of the walking groups with four other couples from various parts of the world: Peter (Brit living in New England who builds luxury yachts) & Rosemary (New Zealand), Gillian & David (Irish living in London), Sasha & Esther (Swiss and Korean living in New York) and Amanda and  Camp (Boston).

The best and longest walk was on the longest day of the year here, 21 December.  We covered 26kms, climbing from the lake shore just above sea level to 700 metres among the mountains of the Paine Massif, passing glaciers, rivers, lakes and waterfalls.  We began in rain and thick cloud but, as we climbed through the forest, the rain turned to snow before the sun emerged to give us close-up views of the mountains and a panorama of the park.

The walks are well-organised (i.e. they provide essentials such as beer at the end) and after a hard day trekking we relaxed with a (very) quick dip in the lake, whose water is glacial and therefore less than 5 degrees, and a soak in the outdoor hot-tub drinking champagne with our new friends Betsy and Katie, two sisters from Chicago who are great fun.  It was their idea to get in the freezing lake but it was great for tired legs and amazing how many people followed us in once we had set the example.

All too quickly it was time to move on from Explora which really is in a world of its own.  We shall miss the facilities and the landscape but especially the people.

Over the Border

Despite the relatively small distance between El Calafate in Argentina and Torres del Paine in Chile, our next destination, the journey proved to be a long one. The six and a half hour trip was partly down to geography (the road has to get around some large Andean mountains to find a crossing point) and partly caused by the political relationship between the two countries.  It turns out that sharing such a long border gives almost endless opportunities to argue about where the frontier is and who owns the valuable sources of fresh water that lie in the Southern Patagonia Ice Field.

The first three hours was by road in Argentina through the semi-desert where only small bushes grow in the constant and freezing wind. It was 7 degrees and felt colder due to the wind despite this being summer.  We stopped for a coffee at a roadhouse at Esperanza, which means "hope" in Spanish. Whoever decided to call it hope was either an optimist or having a laugh!

We continued along a well surfaced main road, seeing only a handful of other vehicles, running parallel with the border until suddenly our driver turned onto a gravel track signed only to a local estancia.  This turned out to be the road to Chile which the Argentinians clearly don't want you to find. We then spent nearly an hour queueing to get in to a small bleak building in the company of a few other tourists and under the watchful eyes of a flock of sheep who seemed even more bored than the tourists and the customs officials.  What they did with the travel documents that took so long will have to remain a mystery.

Finally we were off on the 8km journey across no-sheep's land to a similar building on the Chilean side.  The Chileans have a reputation for greater efficiency than the Argentians so, rather than simply waste time by being slow, they adopted a more complex process.  This time the luggage got to come out of the car too.  We joined an orderly queue to have our documents inspected having declared that we were not carrying any apples, cheese or other banned substances.  Then we went back to the luggage and put it through the x-ray machine.  This was all very odd.  Nobody checked the car to see if we had any other bags.  Neither did anyone watch to see if all the bags went through nor put a sticker on them to say that they have been checked.  They didn't open any bags while we were there perhaps because the 7 year old boy who was entrusted with watching the scanner screen (really - I'm not making this up) had not yet been fully trained.

Once this charade was over we returned to the car and sat at the barrier for more than ten minutes until a bored looking man walked slowly over and unlocked the padlock to open the gate.  Our driver was then able to drive us about 100 metres to a cafe on the Chilean side where he passed us and our luggage over to representatives from our next hotel.  As we moved on to the last leg of our journey we wished him luck as he left us to drive the 100 metres back to the border to get back to his own country and presumably negotiate another two sets of unnecessary bureaucracy.  I wonder what time he got home!

Heading South

After a flight of three hours we arrived in El Calafate on the Argentinian side of the Andes in southern Patagonia, leaving behind the scorching summer sunshine of Buenos Aires. Here, despite being close to the longest day of the year temperatures may not even reach 10 degrees during the day.

We have come to see the Perito Moreno glacier which flows out of the mountains into the 100km long Lake Argentina.  The Glacier is an hour's drive from El Calafate which is also on the lake shore. The countryside next to the lake is divided into huge ranches where vast flocks of sheep graze and condors circle overhead in front of the distant snow-covered mountains. It is an enchanting sight but nothing compared to the first sight of the glacier itself which is truly a natural wonder of the world.

We went by boat to within 300 metres of the sheer ice wall of the south face of the glacier then viewed the whole glacier from above from the walkways within the national park. In the fissures in the face of the Perito Moreno are ice caves which glow deep blue as if one is glimpsing the embers of a blue fire burning inside.

As the weather got brighter the ice glistened and began to crack. Noises like gunshots echoed around the valley followed by thunderous crashes as large pieces of ice sheared off, dropping  into the freezing water below.  It is incredible to witness nature doing its awesome work at close quarters.

The next day we headed a little further north to visit the larger Upsala glacier. This one recedes at a rate of four metres per day and can't be seen close up because of the field of icebergs created by a huge rupture in it a couple of years ago. Having crossed the lake by boat, we were driven above the glacier where there are spectacular views.  We then hiked back 14km with a group to Estancia Cristina, a remote ranch established by a (presumably mad or very brave) British couple in 1914. From there we made the return 90 minute boat trip across the lake.

So, two very enjoyable days in desolate, remote but beautiful Argentinian Patagonia.  Being outside walking in the icy wind is a great way to work up the appetite for a steak or the local speciality of grilled lamb, both of which are served in huge portions. Tomorrow it will be time to cross the border into Chile which we are looking forward to despite having loved this country.  I'm sure we will be back.

Heroes and Icons

We left Buenos Aires after four days having loved every minute of it. There are more than 20 million people in the greater BA area - a little more than half the population of the country. Like many capital cities, the provincial population and immigrants are drawn in by the possibilities that such a huge metropolis offers with the inevitable consequential social problems. In the last two weeks while we have been in South America tanks have been sent into the Rio shanty towns and violence has erupted in the suburbs here too.

Latin America has greater disparity between rich and poor than any other region in the world and I suppose that's what leads to the emergence of national heroes who fight for or represent the poor.  Add in the taste for passion and drama from the Italian-Spanish heritage that is embodied by the tango and perhaps it is  inevitable that these popular heroes will be transformed into icons such as Eva Peron, Che Guevara and Diego Maradona.

There was a constant stream of people visiting Evita's grave in Recoleta cemetary when we were there, Che t-shirts are on sale everywhere (just like London) and the face of Maradona appears on street corners especially around Boca where he used to play. The emotions they stir here were clear from the tears of the young man in front of us at the cemetary and the passion of the fans at Boca.

In the main square there are daily demonstrations as well as the camp of neglected veterans from the Malvinas/Falklands war and the regular presence of the mothers of those who disappeared during the former military regime.  The city and national governments have a lot on their plate as a new financial crisis threatens the country.

Time will tell if the current president Cristina Fernandez can become an icon, or even succeed, which are two very different things. After all, Evita died very young before much could change, Che's revolutionary ideas never really caught on much beyond Cuba and Diego's dream of leading Argentina to world cup glory this summer ended in humiliation and his sacking.

So like Spain's national symbol of the fighting bull (which invariably comes second in the contest), the icons here tend to represent heroic failure. But at least they tried and the hope they brought had huge value in itself.

In any event if all else fails one can always resort to denial - a great example being the map in the in-flight magazine of Aerolinias Argentinas, which shows the Malvinas islands as belonging to Argentina!

Into La Boca

Just to the south of San Telmo where we are staying in Buenos Aires lies La Boca, one of the traditionally poorer areas of the city. Unlike San Telmo however, Boca is in no immediate danger of gentrification and indeed tourists are warned not to wander away from the safe area around El Caminito, the quaint street of coloured houses in what used to be a fishing village where the small river Riuchelos flows into the giant estuary of the River Plate.

Here bus loads of tourists arrive to photograph El Caminito and to have their photo taken with locals dressed as tango dancers before being whisked back out of danger.

It is a bit of a theme park but worth the walk from San Telmo to see.  We came on monday evening for the other local attraction - to see the world famous local football team, Boca Juniors, play an Argentinian league match against the wonderfully named Gymnastic and Fencing Club from the nearby city of La Plata.

The opposition and the result (a draw) were however irrelevant.  The entertainment here was the home crowd who, literally, made a spectacle of themselves. For the whole 90 minutes they maintained an anstonishing level of noise, singing rather tunefully along to the drum beat and all the time jumping up and down and waving their arms in unison. There was ticker tape, blue and yellow flares and various antics that would have a UK health and safety inspector closing the place down.  As the game wore on the decibel level rose and they were not even silenced by the late equaliser their team conceded. A shame because if the fans had the team they deserved, they would be world champions.  A world away from the polite applause that greets a goal at Arsenal.

Having enjoyed the show, the next morning we walked back down to La Boca to see El Caminito and find a traditional Italian eating place (the community and football club were founded by poor Italian immigrants).

Bizarrely, after opening the door to what seemed a humble Italian restaurant in a back street near La Bombonera (the chocolate box) stadium, we found ourselves not in the company of tourists or impoverished locals, but tables of men in suits. Since most looked like current or former footballers and yesterday was the last day of the season, we concluded that the constant ringing of mobile phones was down to ongoing negotiations of contracts and transfers.

Despite pretty much everyone else being smart and us being dressed shambolically to avoid being mugged, we decided to tough it out and sat down for a rather enjoyable lunch featuring some of the best home made pasta that we have ever had. After ordering some reasonably expensive wine the waiter started to take us seriously and we crossed our fingers that this would not be the day that the bank decides to block the credit card after a series of transactions in South America.

San Telmo - In the Here and Now

We are staying in a boutique hotel in an area of Buenos Aires known as San Telmo, which is just to the south of the centre of the city.  Su chose it as it sounded a little different from the rest of the city - lots of old buildings and known for its antique shops and tango bars.

San Telmo has an interesting history.  It was the home of the rich when Argentina was one of the richest countries in the world in the second half of the 19th century, but when yellow fever began to spread from the poverty of nearby Boca the rich suddenly left, abandoning their mansions never to return.

The mansions were then used by groups of poorer families and, as Argentina went into steady financial decline, there was never the money to restore them.  More recently however, drawn by the bohemian reputation of the area, restoration has begun. On sundays the entire area goes into fiesta mode as the main square becomes the antique market and the surrounding streets become spontaneous open air concert venues. Small groups of musicians play samba, tango, Spanish guitar music and many other varieties and as evening draws on the market stalls are removed and the locals (plus some suitably trained tourists) start to dance the tango.

San Telmo is now a real draw for tourists and locals and the renovation is gathering pace such that the area can forget its sad past and look forward to a brighter future.  As it celebrates the bicentenary of its independence this year, Argentina more generally will be looking forward to greater prosperity and stability than it experienced over the course of the last century.

However on a sunny sunday afternoon watching the tango and dancing to the samba band it is not time to dwell on the past or think of the future, for San Telmo lives in the here and now.  In that spirit we too are simply savouring the moment.

Water, Water Everywhere

We flew from Rio on an internal Brazilian flight to Foz de Iguaçu, close to the border with Paraguay and Argentina.  The objective of the visit was to see Iguazu Falls, one of the natural wonders of the world.  The Falls are the widest set of waterfalls in the world and has one of the longest drops.  Í haven't been to Niagara but apparenty Iguazu makes it look like a leaking roof.

Our hotel was on the Argentinian side but having landed on the Brazilian side on a beautiful day we took a spur of the moment decision to visit the Brazilian national park that afternoon - a great decision because at the same time the next day there was a massive downpour.  The panoramic views get better and better as you go around and it is possible to get very close to one of the biggest falls on a precarious loking walkway, although you get pretty wet in the process.  It was a truly memorable afternoon.

We joined the same tour group again this morning and visited the Argentinian side.  Predictably the rivalry over who has the best national park is a bit like that between the national football teams.  We called it a draw - Argentina has 80% of the falls area but Brazil has the best views.  The things that Argentina does best is the walkways which take you right out under and over the main falls and the boat ride which we did in the afternoon. 

The ride is called "the Great Adventure" and we went out on a motor launch with around 30 other people towards the face of the two main falls.  They give you an opportunity to take photos from the boat really close to the water before they warn you to put your cameras away before they go closer.  And they get really close.  We had been warned that we would get wet and from our place near the back it was clear that those at the front would get really soaked as the launch approached the wall of falling water.  However just to make sure that we all benefitted from the experience the captain kindly turned the boat around and reversed into the waterfall.  It was a great experience and absolutely hilarious being in the spray of a huge waterfall only a few feet from where the water was falling - trying to admire this majestic sight from close up while water comes at you as if out of a fire hose.

It is a long way to go to get here but really worth it.  It has also been nice to get over the border and be able to hold a conversation with the locals, for now we are in Spanish-speaking Argentina, home of the gauchos, the best beef in the world, tango and of course the legendary Diego Maradona.

Churrascaría and Caipirinhas

Before leaving Rio we wanted to sample the most typical local food and drink. So on our last night we visited the Carretao churrascaría in Ipanema, another of the famous beach suburbs of the south zone of Rio where the better off part of the population live.

As a culinary experience this was unique.  We were recomended to this type of restaurant by our Brazilian friends Kevin (who lives just round the corner from us in Spain) and Isabela (from pwc in London) and we were not disappointed by either the quality or quantity of food.

What happens is basically this: there are no menus and a guy comes over to seat you, take your drinks order and tell you that the "salad bar" is self-service.  The salad bar is groaning with all kinds of salad but also paella, fish and varios other hot dishes which are presumably there on the off chance that someone turns up who doesn't want meat.

We sat down with a plate of salads and started to eat. Within minutes the first of the skewers of meat arrived and the waiter carved it at the table. Then came another and another and another and another. We had flank, rib, brisket, sirloin and several other lots of beef barbecued on skewers in different ways.  We are not talking about kebabs here but whole joints of meat that have been roasted on a spit.  Then there was the chicken, the pork, prawns, a couple of types of sausage and even wild boar.

Neither of us have ever eaten so much.  The turnover of tables is incredible and the restaurant, which must sit well over 200, was full. The vast quantity of meat comes out at a bewildering pace and when we checked the bill at the end it told us we had been there for all of 57 minutes!  Getting up to go to the toilet (or salad bar, but that was unlikely to be happening given the volume of meat on offer) meant risking running into squads of waiters bearing hot meat on sword-sized skewers!

In order to recover we walked back to Copacabana and spent another hour or so sampling that other great Brazilian institution - the cocktail Caipirinha which is made mostly of lime, ice and of course a local spirit.

We sat at a simple bar within metres of the waves lapping on the beach watching a couple of families go out into the sea with fishing nets to catch some fish to eat. Having finished our drinks we left them to cook the fish on a fire in the sand.  A fine way to say goodbye to Rio.

Copacabana

So here we are in South America for the first time and a whole new continent to explore. What better place to begin than our hotel overlooking the Copacabana beach - probably, as Su put it, the most famous beach in the world.

View from our hotel

The word Copacabana conjures up many images such as beach volleyball, very small bikinis, Ronnie Biggs and of course the locals practising their reknowned football skills. However, for me, it mainly means I can't get that damned Copacabana song by Barry Manilow out of my head! You know the one - "Her name was Lola, she was a show-girl etc..."

Anyway Copacabana (her name was Lola...) is probably not the nicest beach in the world and we have been a little unlucky with the weather.  It is often sunny on the beach but the famous views from Sugarloaf mountain and Christ the Redeemer statue have been almost non-existent due to low cloud.  That rather limited the value of the city tour.  The natural beauty of the place is beyond dispute but the buildings aren't much to write home about, so we won't.

One of the clearer moments at Christ the Redeemer

However in the three days here the place has really grown on us and it is clearly a nice place to live as long as you can cope with the potential for crime and live with the inequality.  Perhaps in those respects it is just more extreme than London.  The big plus points are the outdoor lifestyle and the huge potential of a vast and growing country that you can feel in the buzz of the nightlife especially.

We had a marvellous meal last night in a brazilian-japanese-french fusion restaurant (their description!) where our host really made us feel welcome and the food was superb. For once we were pleased to find someone who spoke English.  I suppose we have got used to speaking English or Spanish wherever we are and didn't expect Portuguese to be so alien.  It sounds like Russian to us and our attempts to respond in Spanglish have failed completely.  I don't know what can have happened.  Did the Portuguese meet some Russians in the 13th century and think they sounded cool and if they copied them everyone would stop mistaking them for Spaniards?

Anyway shortly we are off to Argentina so we should have more chance although from what we have heard of the other South American guests at our hotel that might be misplaced optimism.  At least I can understand Barry Manilow!  Her name was Lola, she was a show-girl.....

The Great Escape

When we decided to travel via London to get to South America we had no idea how complicated it would be.  A combination of heavy snow in the UK, a strike by Spanish air traffic control and an impressive electrical storm here in Rio meant we were very lucky to complete our journey with a delay of only about 3 hours and no delay at all on the trip to London.  It could have been an awful lot worse.

When we booked 2 months ago to go to London we chose Stansted instead of Gatwick. That was the first piece of good fortune as Gatwick was closed by snow on the thursday that we travelled.
We got out just in time because the strike started on friday and stopped most planes to and from Spain.

Luckily by saturday night the snow had stopped in London and the Spanish government had forced the air traffic controllers back to work by declaring a state of emergency and effectively putting them under military control.  As a way of making things happen (or happen faster) in Spain this seems to open up endless possibilities. We might be able to get the car ownership documents we have been waiting for for 6 months, the certificate of house completion (nearly 5 years) or even get served a pina colada in Zensa beach bar in less than an hour.

As for landing at Rio we narrowly avoided being diverted to Sao Paulo but by the time we landed many streets had turned into rivers and there was traffic chaos. Nevertheless we got here and now the South America trip begins.