My last few days in Brazil were spent in a colonial village 6 hours (236km) south of Rio called Paraty. Paraty has been inhabited since 1650 during the eighteenth-century Paraty was a staging post for the trade in Brazilian gold, today UNESCO considers the city one of the world’s most important examples of Portuguese colonial architecture. Paraty is known for its churches and of course its beaches, so I relaxed on the beach and hung out with a girl who was a spitting image of Jennifer Garner and a couple of Aussies from Melbourne who were super friendly and invited to me to anything they were doing just what travelling should be. Paraty is a great little town to relax in but other than that there is not much here to offer people looking to party or meet other people. I did have one big night out there where I hung out with some Chileans who actually praised me on my Spanish skills; yes they were a lot more drunk than me.
The travellers going to Paraty this was normally their second stop after they flew into Rio so I was bombarded with the usual questions where you from, where you been and how long are you travelling? Very repetitive!
I flew from the great metropolis Sao Paolo to Bogota. Just like Santiago this city is ringed in by mountains and suffers from every urban ill – poverty, gridlock traffic, crime and choking smog – this overcrowded city of 7.5 million suffers from it all in excess. I personally found it bland and boring and unfortunately I booked three nights thus I had to stay that long, this being 2.5 days too long. If you like churches and museums then this place would be your heaven but personally I have seen enough museums, churches, temples, sunsets and waterfalls to last me a life time.
There are only two road names in Bogota calle and carreras with a numbering system which would be great if they decided to actually put signs on the roads also the map given to me by the hostel was about as useful as Ann Frank’s karaoke machine so I found it very hard navigating. This difficulty I am sure put me in danger but seeing as I am pretty streetwise I was onto them and returned to the street with the police presence. I have found myself at altitude again and after sending my mittens and other winter items home I am cold, only French people at the hostel means I am lonely. Not a great time.
While I have that in your mind I am going to moan about the French, I mean what is the point in them actually travelling as they gravitate towards other French people for example chat to one on their own and they will respond but soon as they meet other French people they get a massive errection then never speak to you or just speak French even if you can not understand They are certainly upholding the reputation of being very rude. Another example is in my dorm in Bogota two French girls arrived and never said hello to me but continued to welcome non-British travellers, so I left something on the communal computer that my friend Fergal told me – ‘Going to war without France is like going deer hunting with out your accordion.’
I want to note that Mel who I spent time with in Brazil did not have any of the above characteristics.
I have found the Colombians in Bogota annoy me as when I try and communicate in Spanish I get laughed at which I can deal with even though I know I am saying the phrase right but what I cannot take is them laughing at me when I don’t understand their English which by the way was inaudible and considering I have travelled with Geordies makes it even worse. That day I spoke no more Spanish which was a breath of fresh air.
I am going to moan again, travelling on your own you rely on people to accept you into their groups and generally they do but then you meet a couple of stuck up wankers who just do not bother. I could tell instantly that the aforementioned were from Sydney guitar and surfboard in tow but it was painful to actually watch them when I spoke to them their faces retorted in the look of ‘do we have to actually speak to him’. On the other hand you meet people from Melbourne they are the complete opposite, I cant comment on travellers from Perth as they never seem to go abroad just WA and people from Darwin probably spend all their money on booze.
As soon as I could I left Bogota for Salento which took eleven hours on a bus with air conditioning but no windows which would have been ok if the AC was stronger than coma victim.
Salento is in the heart of coffee country, this quaint hamlet is one of the regions earliest settlements and its slow development has barley altered the oringianl lifestyle or buildings. Here I embarked on some more trekking and ventured into the high Colombian jungles where I maybe should not have been so eager to complete the 18k loop and instead do the smaller but pride got the better of me and I found myself coming down and my legs seizing up making it very difficult and the last five hundred meters were as if I were an old age pensioner. The trip commenced in Corora which contains a thick forest of wax palm, Colombia’s national plant that can grow up to sixty meters high. The altitude ranges from 2000m to 3170m and according to the guide books this cloud forest is home to the puma, spectacled bear, deer and toucans but do you ever see these animals? No. Trekking through I felt like Indiana Jones having to cross no less than 9 rickety wooden bridges that cross the Rio Quindio.
Alas I am on the bus again to another place, moving more than a gypsy.
No pics sorry.....
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Saturday, 15 January 2011
Rio de Dinhero
way to get to Florianopolis from Uruguay was sold out so it was stay in Montevideo for five more days, visit the over priced beach resorts or wing it. Obviously I decided to wing it and thus booked a ticket to Rio Branco in Uruguay (not the easiest boarder crossing). Just booking this ticket enlightened me to how much I relied on Jane, Tim or Feargal (when he is not drunk) for their superior Spanish skills, people engage in conversation with me and I just look at whichever one of the three was closest to me, normally Jane. It must be said though that Jane was better at looking like she could speak/understand Spanish than her actual Spanish, when in the middle of the conversation saying ‘si’ and nodding enthusiastically to everything however after the answer was given asking what they said I would get a laugh then an “I’m not sure”.
It was when I was on the bus to Rio Branco that I felt this urge that I should have made more of the goodbyes with the three mentioned above I think at the time I didn’t quite realise the full gravity of this goodbye as myself Tim and Feargal have said a few goodbyes before whilst one of us goes off earlier than the others so it seemed like I would see them again but in reality I wont. Jane is going south through Argentina then round the world to where I have been, Tim is doing much of the same route as me but may have delusions of grandeur regarding his ambitions with the money he has so he may be a month behind me and Feargal is becoming so poor I feel prostitution is the only hope for the boy but with his next stop being Sydney Kings Cross is surely in his sights. Already I am missing the camaraderie and banter that goes with travelling with the same people for so long. Jane’s influence on me was quite calming with her smile bringing me much relief from what ever I was stressing about, Feargal tried to install some culture into me and Tim made me laugh. Now as I sit in a bus station in a very small Brazilian town drinking a Skol beer I know these people would not be able to help me as they are about as good with Portuguese as I am with Spanish. People that say Spanish and Portuguese are similar are either on crack or as dumb as they come because it is extremely different. I was extremely tempted to change my plans something I told myself I would never do but if it was any other country I would have but I could not miss Rio and I would have had to say goodbye at some other time. I believe I would have regretted either choice stay with Jane and I would always wish I went to Rio, go to Rio I will always wish I went south. One thing that does feel extremely strange is having my laptop all to myself, over the last few months it became more a time share option rather than my own item.
After fretting that the bus I was on had already gone past Rio Branco I came to a decision that I no longer cared, I would adapt and go with it, of course I have the money too but it wouldn’t have been ideal especially as now for the first time in over three months I have a time line to work to.
Once I arrived in Rio Branco four hours over my estimated time I again faced the language barrier or communication wall and I mean this wall is twenty foot tall surrounded by barbed wire and topped with the glass shards stuck in the mortar, I cant get over this thing but with a cheeky smile and happy attitude I somehow get a taxi who then takes me across the boarder and takes me to this hidden away immigration building that no normal human being could ever been able to discover where again the taxi driver helped me to get my passport stamped with a Brazilian entry tag unfortunately I don’t have my Uruguayan exit stamp but according to my passport I am still in Paraguay anyway probably on their most wanted list along with Jane!
The smoothness didn’t continue with again their being no buses to Florianopolis but luckily they had a bus that night to Porte Allegra, I just had to sit for five hours in probably the most boring bus station ever created by man.
Once I got to Porte Allegra I was awoken by the bus driver, dribble hanging from my lip and with necklace of saliva all over my top, I then proceeded to another bus station where I picked up the next available bus to Florianopolis which again took longer than the guide books guide and guess where I ended up…..another bus station. So far throughout South America kids and babies have been amazing on buses hearing no peep from them but soon as I got to Brazil its kids crying on all the buses.
I was not overly impressed by Fpolis it was pretty in a Thailand come Laos kind of way with surfing but I had the travelling blues so I was not in the mood to do much apart from walk around and laze on the beach. I would much prefer to get to Rio where the party would begin. The route to Rio was quite spectacular the way was paved with muddy rivers and thick jungle and slowly I have started to like this country. It’s always a shame when you are travelling on a bus and the scenery is amazing because you can’t take photos.
Rio is one of the best cities in the world instantly recognisable with Christo Rendentor looking down upon the city and Pao de Aszucar (Sugar Loaf Mountain) looming in the background and once I arrived via the eighteen hour bus ride my spirits were lifted by these sights.
I was thrown in the deep end having organised a place to stay via couch surfing I was thrust upon Ipenema beach with all of Rosanna’s friends where I tried to compete with the famous Brazilian vanity, where board shorts are the rage in Australia less is more on the beach in Brazil so women sport bikinis seemingly made from dental floss and the men wear white Speedos so to accentuate their tan. From the beach we ventured to the party where again like in Argentina the cogs start to move late at night, the club was impressive although we had to queue for thirty minutes but in any other country this would be a hassle in Rio this was a party itself with vendors selling beer along the line and the music from the club being pumped out onto the line much like the Will Ferrell film ‘One night at the Roxbury’.
Fun factoid: Rio De Janerio means river of January, when first discovered they thought they were on a river not the Atlantic Ocean and it was in Jan.
After getting in around sunrise we still had plans as it is the start of Carnival season in Rio, the actual carnival is always one week before lent but the Brazilians cannot just have one day of partying so they have a month leading up to the big day where there are street parties ‘pre carnival’ so we took leave and again entered the party spirit where thousands of people lined the streets and sang and danced to samba music. We moved from street to street where we ended up in Lapa district where one hundred people were gathered around the flying orchestra, in the middle were the musicians with trombones, trumpets and drums and with the music we would run around them or lie on the floor or jump in the air depending on the beat. The running around was the best part as you could see people losing their sandals in the mêlée probably never to be found again. If you have never partied in Rio with locals then I’m sorry but you have never partied, this place is immense.
The Favelas are much a part of Rio as Christo and as I look at the settlements usually located on hilltops it has a strange beauty about it with the buildings built from red brick with only a handful rendered and with most having holes in walls as doors/windows and some not having the full four walls. One of my highlights is an artist in the favelas who twenty years ago decided to start tiling one of the staircases, now people send tiles from all over the world to support this piece of art which has also appeared in the film ‘The Hulk’ and the music video ‘Beautiful’ by Snoop Dogg.
I have found that I am addicted to Acai (a-si-e) which is a dark purple grape like fruit that grows in the Amazon where they freeze it and make it into an ice cold moose come slush puppy but better. I cannot get enough of the stuff and when the heat has been hitting 42+ it is a welcome treat. On every street corner there are local juice bars that sell these drinks along with many other strange drinks that are all really tasty, im finding that I am eating less but drinking more.
The warmth I was shown by all the locals that I met through my couch surfing experience is now the bench mark that every other country must aspire to.
The Brazilian adventure didn’t start off too smoothly as the most convenient
It was when I was on the bus to Rio Branco that I felt this urge that I should have made more of the goodbyes with the three mentioned above I think at the time I didn’t quite realise the full gravity of this goodbye as myself Tim and Feargal have said a few goodbyes before whilst one of us goes off earlier than the others so it seemed like I would see them again but in reality I wont. Jane is going south through Argentina then round the world to where I have been, Tim is doing much of the same route as me but may have delusions of grandeur regarding his ambitions with the money he has so he may be a month behind me and Feargal is becoming so poor I feel prostitution is the only hope for the boy but with his next stop being Sydney Kings Cross is surely in his sights. Already I am missing the camaraderie and banter that goes with travelling with the same people for so long. Jane’s influence on me was quite calming with her smile bringing me much relief from what ever I was stressing about, Feargal tried to install some culture into me and Tim made me laugh. Now as I sit in a bus station in a very small Brazilian town drinking a Skol beer I know these people would not be able to help me as they are about as good with Portuguese as I am with Spanish. People that say Spanish and Portuguese are similar are either on crack or as dumb as they come because it is extremely different. I was extremely tempted to change my plans something I told myself I would never do but if it was any other country I would have but I could not miss Rio and I would have had to say goodbye at some other time. I believe I would have regretted either choice stay with Jane and I would always wish I went to Rio, go to Rio I will always wish I went south. One thing that does feel extremely strange is having my laptop all to myself, over the last few months it became more a time share option rather than my own item.
After fretting that the bus I was on had already gone past Rio Branco I came to a decision that I no longer cared, I would adapt and go with it, of course I have the money too but it wouldn’t have been ideal especially as now for the first time in over three months I have a time line to work to.
Once I arrived in Rio Branco four hours over my estimated time I again faced the language barrier or communication wall and I mean this wall is twenty foot tall surrounded by barbed wire and topped with the glass shards stuck in the mortar, I cant get over this thing but with a cheeky smile and happy attitude I somehow get a taxi who then takes me across the boarder and takes me to this hidden away immigration building that no normal human being could ever been able to discover where again the taxi driver helped me to get my passport stamped with a Brazilian entry tag unfortunately I don’t have my Uruguayan exit stamp but according to my passport I am still in Paraguay anyway probably on their most wanted list along with Jane!
The smoothness didn’t continue with again their being no buses to Florianopolis but luckily they had a bus that night to Porte Allegra, I just had to sit for five hours in probably the most boring bus station ever created by man.
Once I got to Porte Allegra I was awoken by the bus driver, dribble hanging from my lip and with necklace of saliva all over my top, I then proceeded to another bus station where I picked up the next available bus to Florianopolis which again took longer than the guide books guide and guess where I ended up…..another bus station. So far throughout South America kids and babies have been amazing on buses hearing no peep from them but soon as I got to Brazil its kids crying on all the buses.
I was not overly impressed by Fpolis it was pretty in a Thailand come Laos kind of way with surfing but I had the travelling blues so I was not in the mood to do much apart from walk around and laze on the beach. I would much prefer to get to Rio where the party would begin. The route to Rio was quite spectacular the way was paved with muddy rivers and thick jungle and slowly I have started to like this country. It’s always a shame when you are travelling on a bus and the scenery is amazing because you can’t take photos.
Rio is one of the best cities in the world instantly recognisable with Christo Rendentor looking down upon the city and Pao de Aszucar (Sugar Loaf Mountain) looming in the background and once I arrived via the eighteen hour bus ride my spirits were lifted by these sights.
I was thrown in the deep end having organised a place to stay via couch surfing I was thrust upon Ipenema beach with all of Rosanna’s friends where I tried to compete with the famous Brazilian vanity, where board shorts are the rage in Australia less is more on the beach in Brazil so women sport bikinis seemingly made from dental floss and the men wear white Speedos so to accentuate their tan. From the beach we ventured to the party where again like in Argentina the cogs start to move late at night, the club was impressive although we had to queue for thirty minutes but in any other country this would be a hassle in Rio this was a party itself with vendors selling beer along the line and the music from the club being pumped out onto the line much like the Will Ferrell film ‘One night at the Roxbury’.
Fun factoid: Rio De Janerio means river of January, when first discovered they thought they were on a river not the Atlantic Ocean and it was in Jan.
After getting in around sunrise we still had plans as it is the start of Carnival season in Rio, the actual carnival is always one week before lent but the Brazilians cannot just have one day of partying so they have a month leading up to the big day where there are street parties ‘pre carnival’ so we took leave and again entered the party spirit where thousands of people lined the streets and sang and danced to samba music. We moved from street to street where we ended up in Lapa district where one hundred people were gathered around the flying orchestra, in the middle were the musicians with trombones, trumpets and drums and with the music we would run around them or lie on the floor or jump in the air depending on the beat. The running around was the best part as you could see people losing their sandals in the mêlée probably never to be found again. If you have never partied in Rio with locals then I’m sorry but you have never partied, this place is immense.
The Favelas are much a part of Rio as Christo and as I look at the settlements usually located on hilltops it has a strange beauty about it with the buildings built from red brick with only a handful rendered and with most having holes in walls as doors/windows and some not having the full four walls. One of my highlights is an artist in the favelas who twenty years ago decided to start tiling one of the staircases, now people send tiles from all over the world to support this piece of art which has also appeared in the film ‘The Hulk’ and the music video ‘Beautiful’ by Snoop Dogg.
I have found that I am addicted to Acai (a-si-e) which is a dark purple grape like fruit that grows in the Amazon where they freeze it and make it into an ice cold moose come slush puppy but better. I cannot get enough of the stuff and when the heat has been hitting 42+ it is a welcome treat. On every street corner there are local juice bars that sell these drinks along with many other strange drinks that are all really tasty, im finding that I am eating less but drinking more.
The warmth I was shown by all the locals that I met through my couch surfing experience is now the bench mark that every other country must aspire to.
The Brazilian adventure didn’t start off too smoothly as the most convenient
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
The Muppets Take Montevideo
So I probably say this every couple of months but this time I do mean it when I say this has been the hardest goodbye yet, having convinced Jane to bypass Salta and venture to Paraguay was easy but my boyish charms have not been successful in persuading her to samba in Rio with me so for the first time in three months I am going to be all alone with no Spanish. When you spend a considerable time travelling with someone you get to know them extremely well so six weeks with Jane I got to see the good side and the bad side. Of course I will miss travelling with her but will I miss having to repeat everything I say three times (she is 32 so her hearing is shot) or even after going to the same bank three times having to give her direction sagain I probably will. Don’t worry though I will be checking up on Jane every now and then making sure she is not being silly like buying ice skates in South America! As with all the peole I have met you never can tell if you will see them on your travels again or when you get home but with this one I am hoping I will. Jane you are a great girl and I had a cracking time with you and I know you will read this and I can safely predict you are either hungry, tired or want a beer maybe all three! Keep safe.
Also another goodbye to Tim who I have also seen in five countries but this is more likely I will see him again somewhere along the gringo trail.
Jane, Tim and
I got the ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia in Uruguay as this is the quickest way most convenient way plus due to the political discord between the countries they have no buses but if you ask any traveller they will always prefer a different mode of transport to buses.
Colonia was originally a seventeenth-century Portuguese smuggling port designed to disrupt the Spanish base of Buenos Aires across the Rio de la Plata. Colonia del Sacramento is a beautiful picturesque town with quaint cobbled streets lined with pastel coloured houses draped with foliage of all different colours. There is a massive café culture here which pleased the coffee hound Jane. Parts of this town resembled other places like a four story block of flats looking exactly like the type that litter my home town of Sidcup to old style pubs on leafy streets that could easily have been Holland Park (London) to a small port with an old BMW motorcycle and 1970’s citroen making that part look like Paris. Tourists scoot around town in all manor of rentable vehicles ranging from bicycles to golf buggies, naturally we opted for the golf buggy where we raced around town down to the beaches not quite knowing if we could take it on the proper roads. Janes drving did induce high blood pressure combined with an intense feeling that I didn’t want to die young especially when she produced a three point turn with a four meter drop with me hanging on the back of the buggy alas we did survive only because I had to shout stop (three times).
Two days in Colonia then we bused our way to Montevideo in time for new years where we got involved with the most random fiesta I have ever encountered. During the daytime we followed the collections of people walking from the main square down to the old quarter and on the way we were walking between tall residential buildings which was essentially the ‘kill zone’ as the residents would hurl water on all the passer bys, kids (infantry) were placed on the ground with buckets, water pistols or water bombs to catch the people hiding under canopies, then you have the adults walking drinking litre bottles of cider randomly spraying people mix this with the sun and you start to smell pretty rotten. It was great fun spraying peole and getting wet although at one point I took it a little too far with this little kid getting me once on the way down and on the way back he went for me again but this time I was armed with a full bottle of cider to which I didn’t hesitate in giving him a point blank full facial shot of cider to the face, unfortunately his elders had not taught him well and he breathed in through his nose and got cider froth up there……he cried, but as I said to Tim he was playing with the big boys. Everyone got involved from a women with one leg in a wheelchair to elderly people.
Montevideo has been the first place where I have not felt safe on all my travels and fair people have warned us that it was not a safe place for gringos to be walking around and even at the street party we were told that we were not entirely safe.
A special thanks goes out to the piece of shit probably currently in my dorm who has stolen my money belt today...........I hope you die in some freak accident where you feel immense pain for hours. All the best!
Also another goodbye to Tim who I have also seen in five countries but this is more likely I will see him again somewhere along the gringo trail.
Jane, Tim and
I got the ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia in Uruguay as this is the quickest way most convenient way plus due to the political discord between the countries they have no buses but if you ask any traveller they will always prefer a different mode of transport to buses.
Colonia was originally a seventeenth-century Portuguese smuggling port designed to disrupt the Spanish base of Buenos Aires across the Rio de la Plata. Colonia del Sacramento is a beautiful picturesque town with quaint cobbled streets lined with pastel coloured houses draped with foliage of all different colours. There is a massive café culture here which pleased the coffee hound Jane. Parts of this town resembled other places like a four story block of flats looking exactly like the type that litter my home town of Sidcup to old style pubs on leafy streets that could easily have been Holland Park (London) to a small port with an old BMW motorcycle and 1970’s citroen making that part look like Paris. Tourists scoot around town in all manor of rentable vehicles ranging from bicycles to golf buggies, naturally we opted for the golf buggy where we raced around town down to the beaches not quite knowing if we could take it on the proper roads. Janes drving did induce high blood pressure combined with an intense feeling that I didn’t want to die young especially when she produced a three point turn with a four meter drop with me hanging on the back of the buggy alas we did survive only because I had to shout stop (three times).
Two days in Colonia then we bused our way to Montevideo in time for new years where we got involved with the most random fiesta I have ever encountered. During the daytime we followed the collections of people walking from the main square down to the old quarter and on the way we were walking between tall residential buildings which was essentially the ‘kill zone’ as the residents would hurl water on all the passer bys, kids (infantry) were placed on the ground with buckets, water pistols or water bombs to catch the people hiding under canopies, then you have the adults walking drinking litre bottles of cider randomly spraying people mix this with the sun and you start to smell pretty rotten. It was great fun spraying peole and getting wet although at one point I took it a little too far with this little kid getting me once on the way down and on the way back he went for me again but this time I was armed with a full bottle of cider to which I didn’t hesitate in giving him a point blank full facial shot of cider to the face, unfortunately his elders had not taught him well and he breathed in through his nose and got cider froth up there……he cried, but as I said to Tim he was playing with the big boys. Everyone got involved from a women with one leg in a wheelchair to elderly people.
Montevideo has been the first place where I have not felt safe on all my travels and fair people have warned us that it was not a safe place for gringos to be walking around and even at the street party we were told that we were not entirely safe.
A special thanks goes out to the piece of shit probably currently in my dorm who has stolen my money belt today...........I hope you die in some freak accident where you feel immense pain for hours. All the best!
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