I won't dwell too much on our last night in Brazil. It started in the hostel with our new Slovenian, American and Belgian friends. They were all really nice and a good laugh, the atmosphere was great. Then we progressed onto a sadly unimpassioned samba bar in Lapa, and it was a gay bar which didn't help. Then we went to Leblon to a club which the Germans said they were going to. It was horrible. The most un-Brazilian end to the trip imaginable, full of tourists, R+B and hookers. It would obvously be hypocritical of me to hold a grudge against other travellers trying to enjoy themselves, but when us gringos start to fill a room it just becomes a facile, sterile pulling pit. Rob made an effort to get involved whilst Renaud and I just stared, incredulous, at the mess we found ourselves in.
It really was a shame to leave Rio and Brazil like this; the only Brazilians I spoke to all night were two girls, at least one of whom was a prostitute trying to pick me up. Also I can't believe that the last piece of Brazilian fruit (one of the consistent treats of the tour) that I had was the slightly cachaca splashed, sullen abacaixi caipirinha that cost some ridiculous amount. Still it was good to see the Berlin guys, who will be invaluable friends over there. Also the night illustrated again just how lucky we were to experience the real Rio in the samba bars of the weekend. At half five we bussed, silently, through the now dimly lit streets, occasionally glimpsing the orange sunrise and silhoutted palm trees through beach-leading avenues.
Renaud helped us to the last, asking locals and bus operators to help us to the Rodoviaria. Then it was off to SP on a coach, two metros, one fejoida + cafezinho and one bus later we were at Guarulhos Airport and now I'm sat writing on a jet over Minas Gerais, wondering just what has happened in the last month and a half, how I'm going to get to Lisbon to meet my family and just what I've learnt from this trip.
Firstly I can't believe how lucky we have been, through the chance encounters we have consistently benefitted from. Without them we would probably have struggled to get anywhere near so much out of our trip, this assumption is backed up by what I have gleaned from talking to other non-Portuguese speaking Brits overe here. Have to give special mention here to Renaud, Ceci, Leia, Joanna, Jamie, Alex and Rafa, all of whom I am looking forward to seeing again. They have all opened my eyes to the world really, in some way or another.
Looking up at a map of Brazil, which the plane is slowly, unavoidably leaving behind, I'm struck by just how far we have travelled in the past six weeks. The country is just so big, and all so full of life. Every step of the journey has been accompanied by a barrage of extremes, from the Amazon in the North through to the sparser North-East, and back down to the South. The waterfalls dotted all around the country are an illustration of this, everywhere nature is is just teeming, forceful, bursting with life. Each giant, crawling bug reminds you of this, as does every jungle you see in the middle or edge of a city somewhere.
It is also reflected in the unrestrained exuberance of the people here. Life is great so live and love it. I don't want to ignore the problems and poverty that Brazil also contains but I can only describe what I have seen, not a second-hand horror story from someone else. In the entire time we were there a little kid tried to pick my pocket once, and as ungratifying a scene as that was in the wonder context of things its nothing. So I won't take home this brush with streetcrime in Salvador, the vagrancy of the big cities, Sao Paulo especially, aren't at the forefront of my mind either.
Instead I'll take home the amicable joy from young and old, rich and poor, that met us every step of the way. The people are happy because they're allowed to be, its encouraged. This isn't a country where lifestyle choices are banned, where law-abiding citizens are constantly watched and restricted in the off-chance they might do something, where doing anything seems to be made as elongated and bureaucracy filled as it possibly could be. This is a country where whole towns go out to free parties in the street, where if you feel like doing something that doesn't affect someone else you just do it, where freedom reigns, where essentially life and all its nuances is tailored to let you just enjoy yourself as much as possible. Thats why its so different from home and that is what has struck us over and over again, people here all understand this and are willing to help as well. Maybe its a weather thing.
I know I have a romantic, maybe naive, and only slightly informed opinion but this is just how I see it. Even the negative repercussions of this freedom; driving recklessly or drunkenly down any part of the road to littering or pissing wherever you like are not really anything to get worked up about. We have a phrase 'salt of the earth' for people that can be applied to virtually nobody in our own island anymore. It perfectly fits the prosaic, accomodating, industrious character of Brazil, particularly more rural parts.
And everywhere you look there is more, and still more.
Now I'm trying to finish this journal off in a remote part of Frankfurt Airport, where I am sat waiting for tomorrow morning and another adventure, this time to meet my parents in Pedragao, Portugal. The rhythm of Rio, the fierce heat of the North-East coast, the journeys through the roads/treks, the wild thick hum of the tropical Amazon jungle, all my friends along the way (Rob left to Manchester a few hours ago) have suddenly evaporated into memories, or rather I have and they're all still the same, just going and going. From not being able to imagine leaving Brazil, and just as I was becoming accustomed to the culture and lifestyle, I'm back in Europe; cold, impersonal and colourless by comparison.
And how can I sum up all these experiences of a country, a continent really, in words? Brazil defies quantification, its too big, too otherly. I'm just lucky that I can close my eyes and suddenly see Sao Paulo, towering and stretching beyond the limits of any sensible city, or see the thick jungle and absorb its sounds and pure atmosphere, see the hundreds of thousands of years of recycled life continuing and, despite the threats to it, thriving there, see the dust, heat, vegetation and friendly faces that filled our journey to Sao Luis, see the colourful ambient colonial delapidation amongst the carnival in that amazing city, see the purity that stretches eternally through Marahenses, see the beaches, the beauty and the seclusion of the North-East, see the pretty hubbub of Olinda, see Salvador and all i ts mighty character, see Rio and its enchanting, captivating charm, and all the way inbetween recall the journeys, flying along beaches, crawling along in coaches and laughing all the way, unable to contend with the quantity and variety of contrast that Brazil hurls at you so just enjoying it whilst we could.
If you've enjoyed reading this then save up and visit yourself, for much longer, and see for yourself all the bits that I didn't, couldn't find words for, and all of those that I barely did justice to. I know I will.
Sean Roberts, 30th August 08
Saturday, 30 August 2008
Day 41
Missed breakfast today, but this slight blow was innumerably softened when we saw the weather: clear, cloudless, Canoa Quebrada-esque skies for the first time in a while. We headed straight for Christ the Redeemer, via a nice little salgados and acai bar. Met a couple of German girls on the bus there and decided we'd try and get a cheaper price when we got there. Problem was the weather was great, so it was packed, we didn't look around very much and R$36 (a tenner) didn't really seem to outrageous for one of the world's premier tourist attractions.
Stopped halfway up the hill to get a good view of the statue. Started to understand better what Jamie was talking about when he said Rio had to be viewed from a height to be appreciated. From the top, next to the huge art deco statue, a wild, mountain-scatter curved around the bay, pebbling islands reclining in the turquoise, rolling see, almost whale-like. Rio is a huge clutter of charm, blocks, favelas, hills, mountains and beaches. A light haze lent the Horth mountain range and delta a near Grecian air, jagged unusual rock formations rising, then still rising out of the purpley hue. Beneath us in the city swimming pools shone in the sun, along with the now unimposing Maracana.
In amongst the normal city heights lay a huge lagoon in Botafogo, and countless other natural intrusions. Behind the statue a huge, untamed forest covered the soaring mountainsides. I can't quite conjure the full image of this section of Rio and translate it into words, its just too vast, too full. Go and see it for yourselves, its worth being surrounded by photographing Americans for.
Lit a candle for my Dad's Mum by the chapel, she likes that kind of thing and though I'm not religious it just seemed like the thing to do. This little moment of reflection was somewhat undermined by them playing 'Killing Me Softly' inside the chapel. Again I bumped into the German guys up there, which was good because I hadn't seen them for a few days. After an hour we had to make our way back down, stopping to watch some more monkeys praet about in the trees. Having a perfectly clear day for this was just another lucky stroke on this trip, unforgettable.
Met Renaud back at the hostel, lunched, and then made our way down to Ipanema, where we soon found Jamie, Lawrie and Ollie. After a quick swim through the waves, which reared fearfully before crushing down and flying to the shore, we watched the sunset on the rocks. Ipanema, like the view from Christ the Redeemer mountain, gives a perfect illustration of the sharp contrasts found all over Brazil. This stunning, rightly reputed beach is lined with expensive hotels and an upmarket district, with surfers and holidaymakers filling the sands. As the land immediately around it slopes, though, favelas begin to fowm, on some of the primest real estate in Brazil. Jamie told us this happened because the rich people needed servants, who farmed surrounding land when the city was small. Consequently the city centre is full of the piled slums, only a few were moved 'Cidade de Deus' style out of the city. As the sun dropped the lights began to click on all around and suddenly the favelas lit up became like toddler-applied Christmas decorations on distorted, gigantic Christmas trees, scattered, glittering beauty. Jamie has told us a lot about his experiences of favelas, it would be amazing to see one myself, but not on the sterile gringo tour thats offered.
Bussed back and said goodbye to Jamie, who I've just found out won't be out tonight so its the last time for a while. Like Renaud he has helped us immeasureably and we're both so grateful to him. Another life-long friend made.
Stopped halfway up the hill to get a good view of the statue. Started to understand better what Jamie was talking about when he said Rio had to be viewed from a height to be appreciated. From the top, next to the huge art deco statue, a wild, mountain-scatter curved around the bay, pebbling islands reclining in the turquoise, rolling see, almost whale-like. Rio is a huge clutter of charm, blocks, favelas, hills, mountains and beaches. A light haze lent the Horth mountain range and delta a near Grecian air, jagged unusual rock formations rising, then still rising out of the purpley hue. Beneath us in the city swimming pools shone in the sun, along with the now unimposing Maracana.
In amongst the normal city heights lay a huge lagoon in Botafogo, and countless other natural intrusions. Behind the statue a huge, untamed forest covered the soaring mountainsides. I can't quite conjure the full image of this section of Rio and translate it into words, its just too vast, too full. Go and see it for yourselves, its worth being surrounded by photographing Americans for.
Lit a candle for my Dad's Mum by the chapel, she likes that kind of thing and though I'm not religious it just seemed like the thing to do. This little moment of reflection was somewhat undermined by them playing 'Killing Me Softly' inside the chapel. Again I bumped into the German guys up there, which was good because I hadn't seen them for a few days. After an hour we had to make our way back down, stopping to watch some more monkeys praet about in the trees. Having a perfectly clear day for this was just another lucky stroke on this trip, unforgettable.
Met Renaud back at the hostel, lunched, and then made our way down to Ipanema, where we soon found Jamie, Lawrie and Ollie. After a quick swim through the waves, which reared fearfully before crushing down and flying to the shore, we watched the sunset on the rocks. Ipanema, like the view from Christ the Redeemer mountain, gives a perfect illustration of the sharp contrasts found all over Brazil. This stunning, rightly reputed beach is lined with expensive hotels and an upmarket district, with surfers and holidaymakers filling the sands. As the land immediately around it slopes, though, favelas begin to fowm, on some of the primest real estate in Brazil. Jamie told us this happened because the rich people needed servants, who farmed surrounding land when the city was small. Consequently the city centre is full of the piled slums, only a few were moved 'Cidade de Deus' style out of the city. As the sun dropped the lights began to click on all around and suddenly the favelas lit up became like toddler-applied Christmas decorations on distorted, gigantic Christmas trees, scattered, glittering beauty. Jamie has told us a lot about his experiences of favelas, it would be amazing to see one myself, but not on the sterile gringo tour thats offered.
Bussed back and said goodbye to Jamie, who I've just found out won't be out tonight so its the last time for a while. Like Renaud he has helped us immeasureably and we're both so grateful to him. Another life-long friend made.
Friday, 29 August 2008
Day 40
Slept on a hammock outside last night at Jamie's, overlooking the street below that gradually climbs a hill dotted with a huge variation in structures and designs and eventually towers over the flat. Noticed the same yesterday as we trammed around a small part of the city; none of the buildings here make sense but they all somehow fit, which as a paradigm is the opposite of Sao Paulo.
So I woke with the birds and eventually Rob and Renaud joined me. We're leaving Jamie's today, Lawrie and Ollie have the spare room and there just isn't enough space. I think us all rocking up here has caused some tension between Jamie and his girlfriend Maria (a lovely woman), though they wouldn't say it, and it would be bad to cause any more friction. There just isn't enough room for us all, however fun it would be to party here for a few more nights.
After a bit of early day umming and ahhing we said cheerio to Lawrie and made our way back through Lapa to our original hostel, which we again chose because it was ten reals cheaped than anywhere else. Jamie had told us before about a waterfall nearby that was worth a visit. After enjoying his guided tram tour of Santa Teresa, which sort of ignited a buzzing enthusiasm for the city in everyone, so much we felt it was a fairly safe bet that this would be a worthy trip, he is virtually a local after all. It was strnage to go just out of the city and then be in a jungle, but this seems to be a normalish thing in Brazil: we've seen it in a few places.
After an uphill walk and then a more rugged climb we found the waterfall torrentially gushing from a height of around twenty feet. The water was a bit sharp at first but as soon as you stepped into the cascade it became therepeutic; the constant pounding water becoming a massage. We enjoyed the idyllic and tranquil scene, undisturbed, for an hour or so as the water lulled us into stasis. It really is amazing to have somthing like this around an hour or so from the heart of a major city. Imagine getting a bus from Picadilly and instead of just making it into Zone 4 and another set of suburbs ending up in a beautiful part of the dales or Brecons Beacons, such was the level and intensity of remoteness and rural feeling residing here. We climbed back through the rocks then ambles, still damp, down the trees, stepping to watch monkeys fling themselves around the trees, breaking of twigs, throwing them on the floor, scrabbling around and generally looking like they were just passing time messing around.
Back in the city we visited the world-famous Ipanema beach, intending to stay for the sunset. However in the sun's path hung a thick, gloomy, doom-filled mass of cloud and fog, not unlike the one which chased us down the Amazon all that time ago. We decided there was no point staying to watch this beach get dark, wild as the waves were, and headed back for the third installment of home-cooked food: my spicy chicken and rice effort. To be honest Ipanema wasn't that great, I think these things depend on good weather to get going.
As I write this in the evening I think tonight will be quite calm, with no more than a few beers.
So I woke with the birds and eventually Rob and Renaud joined me. We're leaving Jamie's today, Lawrie and Ollie have the spare room and there just isn't enough space. I think us all rocking up here has caused some tension between Jamie and his girlfriend Maria (a lovely woman), though they wouldn't say it, and it would be bad to cause any more friction. There just isn't enough room for us all, however fun it would be to party here for a few more nights.
After a bit of early day umming and ahhing we said cheerio to Lawrie and made our way back through Lapa to our original hostel, which we again chose because it was ten reals cheaped than anywhere else. Jamie had told us before about a waterfall nearby that was worth a visit. After enjoying his guided tram tour of Santa Teresa, which sort of ignited a buzzing enthusiasm for the city in everyone, so much we felt it was a fairly safe bet that this would be a worthy trip, he is virtually a local after all. It was strnage to go just out of the city and then be in a jungle, but this seems to be a normalish thing in Brazil: we've seen it in a few places.
After an uphill walk and then a more rugged climb we found the waterfall torrentially gushing from a height of around twenty feet. The water was a bit sharp at first but as soon as you stepped into the cascade it became therepeutic; the constant pounding water becoming a massage. We enjoyed the idyllic and tranquil scene, undisturbed, for an hour or so as the water lulled us into stasis. It really is amazing to have somthing like this around an hour or so from the heart of a major city. Imagine getting a bus from Picadilly and instead of just making it into Zone 4 and another set of suburbs ending up in a beautiful part of the dales or Brecons Beacons, such was the level and intensity of remoteness and rural feeling residing here. We climbed back through the rocks then ambles, still damp, down the trees, stepping to watch monkeys fling themselves around the trees, breaking of twigs, throwing them on the floor, scrabbling around and generally looking like they were just passing time messing around.
Back in the city we visited the world-famous Ipanema beach, intending to stay for the sunset. However in the sun's path hung a thick, gloomy, doom-filled mass of cloud and fog, not unlike the one which chased us down the Amazon all that time ago. We decided there was no point staying to watch this beach get dark, wild as the waves were, and headed back for the third installment of home-cooked food: my spicy chicken and rice effort. To be honest Ipanema wasn't that great, I think these things depend on good weather to get going.
As I write this in the evening I think tonight will be quite calm, with no more than a few beers.
Day 39
On the first night we were here I badly misjudged everything about Rio and Lapa. Sure the tourist myth exists, but it is an insignificance swallowed by the passion and vibrancy of this incredible city. I learnt all this in a few short hours with Jamie and a mini-tour of a small Bohemian area near his house. Before that we just passed the time at the hostel and walked through more rain to meet him. The English musicians, Lawrie and Ollie, are staying at his as well so it should be fun to hang around with them.
At Jamie's apartment we lounged around for a few hours, essentially preravicating over what to eat. During these afternoon hours a few monkeys appeared in the trees outside the back of his house, scuffling and bounding through the branches of different trees and bushes. So I saw no monkeys in the Amazon but three in Rio.
Eventually we steeled ourselves to eat and picked some stuff up from a market down the road. I don't think I have properly given an account of how bad the weather has been, basically since Joao Pessoa. Save a few hours of sun in Salvador and a bright day in Olinday it has been just cloudy days punctuated with showers. I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for the fact that Brazilians just don't go out, don't do anything, if its raining. Thats part of the reason the attendance at the Maracana was so poor, and why Rio feels quiet today.
However the afternoon/evening was dry and we walked up a hill to Santa Teresa. From a height it is much more appreciable just how stunning Rio is. How is such a vast city built in amongst Glencoe-esque mountains? Everywhere nature and man contest an overheated battle; the houseless mountains and omnipresent trees a physical emblem of nature's inneffable power compared with the piled high man-made structures which sometimes coat and often imitate them.
From our high vantage point we spied over the glittering, effervescent mass of humanity, ,cut into the rives and sea at various junctions. After admiring the distant Cristo Redentor, at one point backed by a glaring pink sky, we took a tram tour of the area for virtually nothing. Everywhere you look Rio teems with interest and life, now I realise how people dall in love with the place; it has peerless beauty in every possible was, in every direction you look.
After a quick dinner at Jamie's we hopped down to another small samba bar in Lapa where the music just thrilled the entire audience. Even more so than last night this was rootsy, raw samba. A small, bare, bar steadily filling with swaying figures and the effortless, seizing momentum of the live band. Jamie's two English friends fell in love with samba a few yeras ago and are now the best players in London apparently. It is easy to see how, once it starts, you can't bring yourself away. So now for two nights i na row we've delved further into the true heart and character of Rio de Janeiro, and moved further away from the booze-laden gringo black holes that were so unedifying on Friday night. This is why we were so lucky to meet Jamie, such a friendly guy who is so involved and engaged with life here.
At Jamie's apartment we lounged around for a few hours, essentially preravicating over what to eat. During these afternoon hours a few monkeys appeared in the trees outside the back of his house, scuffling and bounding through the branches of different trees and bushes. So I saw no monkeys in the Amazon but three in Rio.
Eventually we steeled ourselves to eat and picked some stuff up from a market down the road. I don't think I have properly given an account of how bad the weather has been, basically since Joao Pessoa. Save a few hours of sun in Salvador and a bright day in Olinday it has been just cloudy days punctuated with showers. I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for the fact that Brazilians just don't go out, don't do anything, if its raining. Thats part of the reason the attendance at the Maracana was so poor, and why Rio feels quiet today.
However the afternoon/evening was dry and we walked up a hill to Santa Teresa. From a height it is much more appreciable just how stunning Rio is. How is such a vast city built in amongst Glencoe-esque mountains? Everywhere nature and man contest an overheated battle; the houseless mountains and omnipresent trees a physical emblem of nature's inneffable power compared with the piled high man-made structures which sometimes coat and often imitate them.
From our high vantage point we spied over the glittering, effervescent mass of humanity, ,cut into the rives and sea at various junctions. After admiring the distant Cristo Redentor, at one point backed by a glaring pink sky, we took a tram tour of the area for virtually nothing. Everywhere you look Rio teems with interest and life, now I realise how people dall in love with the place; it has peerless beauty in every possible was, in every direction you look.
After a quick dinner at Jamie's we hopped down to another small samba bar in Lapa where the music just thrilled the entire audience. Even more so than last night this was rootsy, raw samba. A small, bare, bar steadily filling with swaying figures and the effortless, seizing momentum of the live band. Jamie's two English friends fell in love with samba a few yeras ago and are now the best players in London apparently. It is easy to see how, once it starts, you can't bring yourself away. So now for two nights i na row we've delved further into the true heart and character of Rio de Janeiro, and moved further away from the booze-laden gringo black holes that were so unedifying on Friday night. This is why we were so lucky to meet Jamie, such a friendly guy who is so involved and engaged with life here.
Day 38
Today was, in its early part, mainly spent waiting to go to the Maracana. It was well worth sitting around for. Instead of taking the hostel lift and ticket offer (R$65) we made our own way and saved about thirty reals. We had to go in the home end with the Flamengistas (the match was Flamengo vs Athletico Paranenses) and be where the atmosphere was, whereas the tour took other people from the hostel to a quieter part of the stadium.
The Maracana itself is a hugely impressive piece of architecture; a vast bowl stadium dwarfed by sublime jagged mountains, on one of which stands the iconic Cristo Redentor statue. Around the other side favelas sparkle on the less extreme peaks.
Entering the terraces itself is another special occasion, the ground seems to expand as you enter further into it. But sat in the corner of one end, surrounded by already frantically singing supporters almost an hour before kick-off, it is striking how good the sightlines are over the whole pitch. None of the remote, impersonal distance that meets the corners of, for example, St James' Park, the Old Wembley or the top of Old Trafford.
And the supporters themselves are just incredible, frenetic for the whole time we were in the ground, either in anger or joy, always full of passion. Only sixteen thousand attended, and in a stadium that holds around a hundred thousand this admittedly looks feeble, but the atmosphere they created matched most games I've been to. Flares, flags, constant chants, screams of 'Pouta que pareu' or 'Fiz de Pouta' handsomely filled the atmosphere. For this was a must win game for Flamengo, who hadn't won in seven after being top of the league, and the tension was evident throughout.
This made an already average standard team really comprimised through fear. Players started hiding from the ball all over the pitch. Athletico were there for the taking but it took a poorly defended corner and a flapping keeper deep into the second half for them to do so. Brazilian football is strange, I only realised just how haphazard it is from the stands. There is no structure or cohesion within teams, just players ending up in different places, almost whimsically. A centre-half will regularly turn up at inside-left and stay there for a while, whilst two wing backs man the defence. Or suddenly a player will stride, unchallenged, for forty or fifty yards straight through the middle of the pitch. The sad thing, especially when the relics of former great Zico linger around the ground, is that most Championship sides would deal with Flamengo wuite comfortably, though I have to say I saw them at their worst.
Still it was a great experience, especially for the riotous, flare-ridden celebrations after the goal. Jamie was there for a full Copa Libertadores final, bedlam. We managed to meet Jamie later in the evening, or he managed to find our hostel, and we went out in Lapa, along with a guy from NYC called Brian. After a few beers we shelled out a few reals to enter a low-key, intimate and very traditional live samba bar a few streets away. The music was mellow and sonorous, softly melting through the busy, but not uncomfortable, room. It was great to get back to something Brazilian, not just the music but also the crowd who were mainly local and mainly a bit older as well.
We shuffled round for a few hours soaking up the sounds then, with one 'siguerda' on the way, splashed our way home through the teeming rain at a quite reserved half three or so. This city has so much to offer and tomorrow we're going to start exploring with an informed guide in Jamie, can't wait.
The Maracana itself is a hugely impressive piece of architecture; a vast bowl stadium dwarfed by sublime jagged mountains, on one of which stands the iconic Cristo Redentor statue. Around the other side favelas sparkle on the less extreme peaks.
Entering the terraces itself is another special occasion, the ground seems to expand as you enter further into it. But sat in the corner of one end, surrounded by already frantically singing supporters almost an hour before kick-off, it is striking how good the sightlines are over the whole pitch. None of the remote, impersonal distance that meets the corners of, for example, St James' Park, the Old Wembley or the top of Old Trafford.
And the supporters themselves are just incredible, frenetic for the whole time we were in the ground, either in anger or joy, always full of passion. Only sixteen thousand attended, and in a stadium that holds around a hundred thousand this admittedly looks feeble, but the atmosphere they created matched most games I've been to. Flares, flags, constant chants, screams of 'Pouta que pareu' or 'Fiz de Pouta' handsomely filled the atmosphere. For this was a must win game for Flamengo, who hadn't won in seven after being top of the league, and the tension was evident throughout.
This made an already average standard team really comprimised through fear. Players started hiding from the ball all over the pitch. Athletico were there for the taking but it took a poorly defended corner and a flapping keeper deep into the second half for them to do so. Brazilian football is strange, I only realised just how haphazard it is from the stands. There is no structure or cohesion within teams, just players ending up in different places, almost whimsically. A centre-half will regularly turn up at inside-left and stay there for a while, whilst two wing backs man the defence. Or suddenly a player will stride, unchallenged, for forty or fifty yards straight through the middle of the pitch. The sad thing, especially when the relics of former great Zico linger around the ground, is that most Championship sides would deal with Flamengo wuite comfortably, though I have to say I saw them at their worst.
Still it was a great experience, especially for the riotous, flare-ridden celebrations after the goal. Jamie was there for a full Copa Libertadores final, bedlam. We managed to meet Jamie later in the evening, or he managed to find our hostel, and we went out in Lapa, along with a guy from NYC called Brian. After a few beers we shelled out a few reals to enter a low-key, intimate and very traditional live samba bar a few streets away. The music was mellow and sonorous, softly melting through the busy, but not uncomfortable, room. It was great to get back to something Brazilian, not just the music but also the crowd who were mainly local and mainly a bit older as well.
We shuffled round for a few hours soaking up the sounds then, with one 'siguerda' on the way, splashed our way home through the teeming rain at a quite reserved half three or so. This city has so much to offer and tomorrow we're going to start exploring with an informed guide in Jamie, can't wait.
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Salvador then Rio de Janeiro, Day 37
So we finally made it back into the south of Brazil, and to Rio de Janeiro; an almost mythically reputed place 'where the party never stops'. Or at least where the stories and tales create an incredible identity, of fun and danger. Before we flew here, though, we had another one of those leaving-a-place-and-all-your-friends days. Joanna and her Spanish friend Oyer are off to Spain on Saturday (today as I write this up). Its hard to explain just how nice, happy and bubbly Joanna has been the entire tim I've travelled with her in Brazil, 'la Chiespa'. Beyond grateful for her hospitality and help in Salvador.
Before we had to bid farewell to Cat and Alex, who are also moving in different directions but at least managed to spend some more time together. I feel like I've learnt a lot of those two, especially Alex, a real idiosyncratic Brit. When I first met him the size of his personality sort of hit me a bit, but its not forced or put on, he just is a massive character. Now I know him well and he is one of those people who can talk about anything with anyone, without showing off or pressing his own opinion. Also we left behind the Essex teachers Rupa and Inge who we met in Recife. I haven't really written much about them in here but they're a real laugh and we've had some funny days together. They are at the same stage of naivety and as languageless as we were a month or so ago. Hopefully they'll find a Renaud to guide them through and help them out.
So we bussed out of Salvador to the airport, lounged around for a while and then caught a flight, with a connection in Belo Horizonte. I was a little depressed today as the protracted sense of finality, The End, hung around. Fragmentation of the group is almost complete now. As soon as we got going, though, this was replaced by the same childish excitement at travelling and moving that has accompanied us everywhere, here still attracting the same observent and interested stares as in the rest of this vast land.
We taxied from the airport to our last hostel, where the reception guy was waiting to check us in then take us out, Lapa on a Friday night, part of the myth. For me Rio has always been a place I could never envisage myself actually arriving in: its too exotic, too wild, too perfect almost for someone from nowhere in the West of England to make it to. And then, suddenly, we were in the thick of it, the best party in the city, and slowly the layers begin to peel away, with every English face you see and travelling voice you hear. We ended up wandering the area til five or six. It was fun but strangely impersonal, slightly synthetic, not very Brazilian it seemed. There was also almost a touch of 'morbo' about the scouring transvestites and very public homosexuals, the white girls being latched onto by Brazilian men and Englishmen chasing the Brazilian girls. Saw two old, haggard, painfully English men with two young Brazilian prostitutes. The party, on first impressions, has morphed and grown and is almost a caricature of itself, moved away from the roots of Rio.
But here I am doing Lapa a disservice, we didn't enter a club and didn't explore the area at all. Lets see how the next few days go and give a more rounded view of the place, not based on gringo-tourist culture.
Again we bumped into our Berlin friends, which is always great because they're such a good laugh and always up for a good time. More unexpectedly I was walking with Renaud and Rob down a street that basically served as one long public toilet when I heard a "Sean!" through the gloom, and looked across to see Martha McGregor, a friend from the year below at school who I haven't seen or spoken to in over two years. She is having a gap year and seems to be going it well, though she did have some horror stories from Peru (guns and police stuff).
Still had time to meet some new friends as we walked home, out of nowhere. In fact the area away from where we were led was more accomodating, friendlier than I gave credit for at first, and all it took was to speak to someone. Who am I anyway to theorise on the sociology of a city after five hours there. Tomorrow we're off to the football and I can't wait. Life is great/a Vida e Belize.
Before we had to bid farewell to Cat and Alex, who are also moving in different directions but at least managed to spend some more time together. I feel like I've learnt a lot of those two, especially Alex, a real idiosyncratic Brit. When I first met him the size of his personality sort of hit me a bit, but its not forced or put on, he just is a massive character. Now I know him well and he is one of those people who can talk about anything with anyone, without showing off or pressing his own opinion. Also we left behind the Essex teachers Rupa and Inge who we met in Recife. I haven't really written much about them in here but they're a real laugh and we've had some funny days together. They are at the same stage of naivety and as languageless as we were a month or so ago. Hopefully they'll find a Renaud to guide them through and help them out.
So we bussed out of Salvador to the airport, lounged around for a while and then caught a flight, with a connection in Belo Horizonte. I was a little depressed today as the protracted sense of finality, The End, hung around. Fragmentation of the group is almost complete now. As soon as we got going, though, this was replaced by the same childish excitement at travelling and moving that has accompanied us everywhere, here still attracting the same observent and interested stares as in the rest of this vast land.
We taxied from the airport to our last hostel, where the reception guy was waiting to check us in then take us out, Lapa on a Friday night, part of the myth. For me Rio has always been a place I could never envisage myself actually arriving in: its too exotic, too wild, too perfect almost for someone from nowhere in the West of England to make it to. And then, suddenly, we were in the thick of it, the best party in the city, and slowly the layers begin to peel away, with every English face you see and travelling voice you hear. We ended up wandering the area til five or six. It was fun but strangely impersonal, slightly synthetic, not very Brazilian it seemed. There was also almost a touch of 'morbo' about the scouring transvestites and very public homosexuals, the white girls being latched onto by Brazilian men and Englishmen chasing the Brazilian girls. Saw two old, haggard, painfully English men with two young Brazilian prostitutes. The party, on first impressions, has morphed and grown and is almost a caricature of itself, moved away from the roots of Rio.
But here I am doing Lapa a disservice, we didn't enter a club and didn't explore the area at all. Lets see how the next few days go and give a more rounded view of the place, not based on gringo-tourist culture.
Again we bumped into our Berlin friends, which is always great because they're such a good laugh and always up for a good time. More unexpectedly I was walking with Renaud and Rob down a street that basically served as one long public toilet when I heard a "Sean!" through the gloom, and looked across to see Martha McGregor, a friend from the year below at school who I haven't seen or spoken to in over two years. She is having a gap year and seems to be going it well, though she did have some horror stories from Peru (guns and police stuff).
Still had time to meet some new friends as we walked home, out of nowhere. In fact the area away from where we were led was more accomodating, friendlier than I gave credit for at first, and all it took was to speak to someone. Who am I anyway to theorise on the sociology of a city after five hours there. Tomorrow we're off to the football and I can't wait. Life is great/a Vida e Belize.
Day 36
Spent most of the day pensively tidying Joanna's flat or padding tound the town trying to meet up with the rest of the group, who I'd lost track of after breakfast. Eventually found them, and Inge and Rupa as well, who loved Pipa.
We've hit a bit of a rainy spell in the last few days, and the searing heat of the North East coast is a distant memory now. In a city, though, this is mostly a blessing, at least we aren't stifled into sitting around all day doing nothing (*edit - seems that I ended up doing that a lot anyway). Decided to have a meal at Joanna's then head out to a reggae club.
Cat and Alex sorted the food and again did an amazing job. We feasted on fish, risotto and salad flavoured with coconut, blue cheese and loads of other stuff. It was a great meal and only cost R$5 (just over £1.50) each I think, with a fruit salad for desert with wine.
The club we ended up going to was in a notorious area of town but we were fine with Leandro leading the way. It was a great night, one of the best I think, especially in terms of music: two djs than a rinsing live band. Thumping music all night and a much safer atmosphere than the street party a few nights ago. We just grooved around for a few hours than it got a bit late and we left. Another of Joanna's mates gave us a lift home, it pays to have pals in a place. I was weird to go home from a club reeking of smoke, something thats disappeared from home.
Last night in Salvador was a good one, now the death knoll of the holiday hangs heavy and we've got a day waiting to travel. Writing this the next day I think my tiredness/bad mood made me give quite a lifeless description of the club we went to last night. It was much more amazing than the image I conjured, one of the best clubs I've ever been to. The dub was unstoppable, heavy, or jaunting, always spot on. One highlight was a girl jumping onstage to sing 'Sister Nancy' then hop back down and keep dancing with everyone. Everyone was loving the night; the djs, the band and the punters. Just wish I could have picked myself up a bit and really got involved, instead of staying on the periphery.
We've hit a bit of a rainy spell in the last few days, and the searing heat of the North East coast is a distant memory now. In a city, though, this is mostly a blessing, at least we aren't stifled into sitting around all day doing nothing (*edit - seems that I ended up doing that a lot anyway). Decided to have a meal at Joanna's then head out to a reggae club.
Cat and Alex sorted the food and again did an amazing job. We feasted on fish, risotto and salad flavoured with coconut, blue cheese and loads of other stuff. It was a great meal and only cost R$5 (just over £1.50) each I think, with a fruit salad for desert with wine.
The club we ended up going to was in a notorious area of town but we were fine with Leandro leading the way. It was a great night, one of the best I think, especially in terms of music: two djs than a rinsing live band. Thumping music all night and a much safer atmosphere than the street party a few nights ago. We just grooved around for a few hours than it got a bit late and we left. Another of Joanna's mates gave us a lift home, it pays to have pals in a place. I was weird to go home from a club reeking of smoke, something thats disappeared from home.
Last night in Salvador was a good one, now the death knoll of the holiday hangs heavy and we've got a day waiting to travel. Writing this the next day I think my tiredness/bad mood made me give quite a lifeless description of the club we went to last night. It was much more amazing than the image I conjured, one of the best clubs I've ever been to. The dub was unstoppable, heavy, or jaunting, always spot on. One highlight was a girl jumping onstage to sing 'Sister Nancy' then hop back down and keep dancing with everyone. Everyone was loving the night; the djs, the band and the punters. Just wish I could have picked myself up a bit and really got involved, instead of staying on the periphery.
Day 35
Drank way too much last night, and was punished for it this morning. The clincher, on reflection, was the ridiculous caipirinha we bought at the live samba bar, where I egged the barman on shouting "de nada, de nada, sos Inles!" (its nothing, its nothing, we're English) as he poured in more cachaca. Paid for it then (a steep R$6 a drink) and paid for it earlier as well. Still Joanna's pad is a good one to lie around in; cool and shady with a great little garden at the back, which like the house is full of home-made solutions to furniture problems. Found out we had to make a small change to our flight plans but its no problem.
Wolfed down a great chilli risotto Catarina cooked up, which made me feel a bit better but pretty much all day I just walked around in that hazy, booze-battered mood where you think and daydream all day about anything, but can't decide whether to get a glass of water or not.
Eventually made a group decision to wander and dawdled to a little cafeteria with a wide view of the bay. Had a pot of Twinings English Breakfast, first cup of tea in five weeks. Decided to get my hair cut and managed to get pretty much what I wanted, which isn't too bad considering the barber spoke no English. His shop was pretty much the corridor of a house with a door to the street, with the inhabitants wandering in and out as he worked, listening to The Fugees on his mobile phone.
In the evening we all dispersed around the town so I dropped into the salgados place on the corner 'La Dolce Vita' where a girl I met called Rafaela works. We just chatted for a while, practising English and Portuguese until the rest of the crew picked me up for dinner at 'Senak', a highly reputed buffet restaurant. Incredible food, rows of traditional Bahian food and fresh fruit for desert, especially appreciated after yesterday's snacking. It was our treat for Joanna as well and a great way to thank her for her hospitality.
Had a quiet evening with a few drinks in various places with everyone. This is a happy place to be and there is a happy group of people enjoying it. Alex and Cat are just loving being together again, its great to see.
Wolfed down a great chilli risotto Catarina cooked up, which made me feel a bit better but pretty much all day I just walked around in that hazy, booze-battered mood where you think and daydream all day about anything, but can't decide whether to get a glass of water or not.
Eventually made a group decision to wander and dawdled to a little cafeteria with a wide view of the bay. Had a pot of Twinings English Breakfast, first cup of tea in five weeks. Decided to get my hair cut and managed to get pretty much what I wanted, which isn't too bad considering the barber spoke no English. His shop was pretty much the corridor of a house with a door to the street, with the inhabitants wandering in and out as he worked, listening to The Fugees on his mobile phone.
In the evening we all dispersed around the town so I dropped into the salgados place on the corner 'La Dolce Vita' where a girl I met called Rafaela works. We just chatted for a while, practising English and Portuguese until the rest of the crew picked me up for dinner at 'Senak', a highly reputed buffet restaurant. Incredible food, rows of traditional Bahian food and fresh fruit for desert, especially appreciated after yesterday's snacking. It was our treat for Joanna as well and a great way to thank her for her hospitality.
Had a quiet evening with a few drinks in various places with everyone. This is a happy place to be and there is a happy group of people enjoying it. Alex and Cat are just loving being together again, its great to see.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Salvador, Day 34
Arrived in Salvador when we were supposed to, another textbook coach journey. Fortune has found us yet again as Joanna says we can all stay in her apartment for nothing. Said goodbye to the German guys and trooped on to Joanna's, where other than booking our flight to Rio (pretty much), and scouring local streets, we spent most of the rest of the day.
Flights cost R$230 but we didn't book them straight away, as sometimes bargains turn up in unexpected places. In the end it was a fruitless search and we used the original agent, a friend of Joanna. He actually only confirmed the deal later that night during the town party, where he drunkenly explained that we only had to pay him the next day. The difference in attitude between here and home never fails to stagger me: he essentially lent three people he didn't know about three hundred pound because we said we knew somebody.
On first impressions Salvador lives up to the reputation we have been told about, both in terms of how much passion and character it has but also the darker element to the city. In the old town there are, Sao Luis style, cobbed and lined with picturesque but crumbling colonial buildings. Unlike the other colonial towns we have seen, though, Salvador has a distinctive, strong black influence that carries right the way through the city, from the colour of its inhabitants to the capoeira that pop up all over.
Last night there was a huge, free reggae party on one massive flight of steps in the centre of the town. In Brazil the whole town parties at once, everywhere. Here as well the African and Caribbean influence on the culture was especially noticeable, in the music, the idiosyncratic art of Bahia and the thick, cannabis-filled, pluming smoke. Ended up getting a bit too drunk, really, but some things still stick in my mind.
First we walked to a different part of the Pelourino (historical centre) with Leandro, a friend of Joanna, to another couple of parties. One reggae bar was pretty much empty and quite forgettable but in the other we were treated to an amazing, lively samba band. Bright, bouncy and brassy they pounded away, entertaining everyone. There was so much going on at once, for free, in just a few streets of the city. The atmosphere this created was electric.
Unfortunately for us, though, the night was marred by two small late incidents. A few young boys tried to pick my pocket, I saw them and felt a hand trying to lift my watch, which I keep out of view in the left one. I grabbed the kid and had a go at him, but got the wrong one and instead grabbed a scar on his friend's neck, which I think he'd recently had from surgery or something, so that didn't go down too well. In all honestly it must have been a pretty ugly scene, not one which I want to repeat.
One of the kids stole Alex's small diary, an entirely worthless personal item, just with his addresses in. Pointless and really sad for Al, who'll struggle to get a lot of them back. This and the scuffle that broke out in the street, the tangibly threatening atmosphere at the end, left a bit of a bad taste. In the last few weeks I've found it difficult to precisely describe the small differences between places; nuances in the sights, smells, people. I suppose identity is different worldwide to every town, city, village. In Brazil, though, it is especially prominent I think. Salvador and Bahia is full of character, passion and individuality. However at the same time lies a distinctly sinister undercurrent that matches its reputation.
Flights cost R$230 but we didn't book them straight away, as sometimes bargains turn up in unexpected places. In the end it was a fruitless search and we used the original agent, a friend of Joanna. He actually only confirmed the deal later that night during the town party, where he drunkenly explained that we only had to pay him the next day. The difference in attitude between here and home never fails to stagger me: he essentially lent three people he didn't know about three hundred pound because we said we knew somebody.
On first impressions Salvador lives up to the reputation we have been told about, both in terms of how much passion and character it has but also the darker element to the city. In the old town there are, Sao Luis style, cobbed and lined with picturesque but crumbling colonial buildings. Unlike the other colonial towns we have seen, though, Salvador has a distinctive, strong black influence that carries right the way through the city, from the colour of its inhabitants to the capoeira that pop up all over.
Last night there was a huge, free reggae party on one massive flight of steps in the centre of the town. In Brazil the whole town parties at once, everywhere. Here as well the African and Caribbean influence on the culture was especially noticeable, in the music, the idiosyncratic art of Bahia and the thick, cannabis-filled, pluming smoke. Ended up getting a bit too drunk, really, but some things still stick in my mind.
First we walked to a different part of the Pelourino (historical centre) with Leandro, a friend of Joanna, to another couple of parties. One reggae bar was pretty much empty and quite forgettable but in the other we were treated to an amazing, lively samba band. Bright, bouncy and brassy they pounded away, entertaining everyone. There was so much going on at once, for free, in just a few streets of the city. The atmosphere this created was electric.
Unfortunately for us, though, the night was marred by two small late incidents. A few young boys tried to pick my pocket, I saw them and felt a hand trying to lift my watch, which I keep out of view in the left one. I grabbed the kid and had a go at him, but got the wrong one and instead grabbed a scar on his friend's neck, which I think he'd recently had from surgery or something, so that didn't go down too well. In all honestly it must have been a pretty ugly scene, not one which I want to repeat.
One of the kids stole Alex's small diary, an entirely worthless personal item, just with his addresses in. Pointless and really sad for Al, who'll struggle to get a lot of them back. This and the scuffle that broke out in the street, the tangibly threatening atmosphere at the end, left a bit of a bad taste. In the last few weeks I've found it difficult to precisely describe the small differences between places; nuances in the sights, smells, people. I suppose identity is different worldwide to every town, city, village. In Brazil, though, it is especially prominent I think. Salvador and Bahia is full of character, passion and individuality. However at the same time lies a distinctly sinister undercurrent that matches its reputation.
Day 33
Woke up dazed after the long late festa last night. We trooped around for food in the hotter than average morning then sorted out our bus tickets to Salvador. Weird atmosphere around today, the group is going to be permanently fragmented and you can feel this seperation. Cecilia and Leia are staying put for another night; they're flying to SP then Spain tomorrow from Recife, and it is strange to think we won't be travelling or meeting up with them again.
Also Rafa and Alex are splitting; Alex wants to explore Bahia (the district Salvador is in) and spend more time with Catarina. Finally as I write the two English girls, Inge and Rupa, have gone off to Pipa on my recommendation. After the elation of yesterday's ensemble blindo fejoida/party today was always going to be a bit of a let-down - "crushed like a bug in the ground".
It is hard to break up groups when you're travelling like this and become really attached to people and places. It must be even harder for Renaud, who has known the girls for a years I think, and Joanna who, along with Ceci and Leia, are facing up to leaving Brazil after what must have been an incredible year. However I don't think any of us can really complain too much, I know Rob and I are really lucky to be here. Also this negative attitude is generally a bad way to look at travelling or life in general, we just keep moving on.
Even so its hard to always keep a philosophy like this in mind and we moped around all day in the hostel before venturing to Recife for the twelve hour coach trip to Salvador. Bade farewell to Rafa, Ceci and Leia before we left. Alex and Cat came with us, as did the German guys who were on the same bus, and actually have pretty much the same plan as us for the rest of their trip. The bus was overnight so I just necked some cachaca, watched a bit of Pride and Prejudice, chuckled at the stony acting, and snoozed intermittently.
Also Rafa and Alex are splitting; Alex wants to explore Bahia (the district Salvador is in) and spend more time with Catarina. Finally as I write the two English girls, Inge and Rupa, have gone off to Pipa on my recommendation. After the elation of yesterday's ensemble blindo fejoida/party today was always going to be a bit of a let-down - "crushed like a bug in the ground".
It is hard to break up groups when you're travelling like this and become really attached to people and places. It must be even harder for Renaud, who has known the girls for a years I think, and Joanna who, along with Ceci and Leia, are facing up to leaving Brazil after what must have been an incredible year. However I don't think any of us can really complain too much, I know Rob and I are really lucky to be here. Also this negative attitude is generally a bad way to look at travelling or life in general, we just keep moving on.
Even so its hard to always keep a philosophy like this in mind and we moped around all day in the hostel before venturing to Recife for the twelve hour coach trip to Salvador. Bade farewell to Rafa, Ceci and Leia before we left. Alex and Cat came with us, as did the German guys who were on the same bus, and actually have pretty much the same plan as us for the rest of their trip. The bus was overnight so I just necked some cachaca, watched a bit of Pride and Prejudice, chuckled at the stony acting, and snoozed intermittently.
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Olinda, Day 32
Back on the trail again. Today has really reinvigorated our travels in so many ways. First things first we left the nightmare hostel and found our way over to Olinda to meet the Spanish girls, it was to be our last night all as a group which was a little sad. However I don't think any of us can really complain, such is life.
As soon as we saw the girls and dropped or stuff at a new pousada we were off again, this time walking and bussing to a local lady's flat for a fejoida and drinking day. Jamie had mentioned this Sunday tradition; eat loads of heavy beef and beans and get really drunk. The day was brilliant, just loads of different people (English, French, Spanish, American and Recifenses). We just nailed loads of caipirinhas and beers and samad round for hours.
The atmosphere was great, everyone buzzing from meeting each other, or new people, or just all being together again. Also the lady who let us all into her house, along with the hostel staff who came, couldn't have been better to us. Can't thank them enough for how hospitable they were, just the idea of letting a load of random drunk foreigners into a house at home would be unfathomable at home, let alone letting them dance around all day. Great people, typical Brazilian attitude.
The best thing about the fejoida party was how whole thing was played out in a completely relaxed atmosphere; it wasn't too hot, there was plenty of booze and even more food. Also there was a cute little baby, giggling and bumping his way round the room, for the girls (and mabye the odd guy) to coo over and practice with. Catarina, the American girls we met in Sao Luis, was at our hostel as well. Really pleased that her and Alex met up again, especially in such an unplanned manner, theres something special between them.
In the early evening we made our way back to town to go to a few parties. Typically we just ended up in a few different groups traipsing our way around town trying to find this reggae party. Our 'guide' first took us to a different party full of kids, next to a church service, bit strange watching a church service next to this heaving mass of capoeira and teenagers. Eventually found everyone though and had a great night, wheeling round the town, going to bars, meeting people. The atmosphere in the whole town was just alive and really friendly, hundreds of people just enjoying themselves, Brazilian and travellers. In Brazil you just naturally meet people and have a grea ttime, its a giving culture.
Walking all over Olinda at night may not have been ideal, but at least it sobered me up a bit and we were able to see a lot more of this pretty old town, similar in its colonial feel to Sao Luis. Not enough time to explore or even observe all the old buildings properly. I guess its yet another place I'll have to return to. One particularly distinctive old church sits, decrepit, at the top of an overgrown hill near our hostel. It has the classic facade of a Brazilian church but run down, almost to the point of toppling over. But it doesn't and instead presides over the lower part of the town, hidden amongst a variety of trees and reminding everyone of the old splendour, now modern character, that is sprinkled all over Olinda.
As soon as we saw the girls and dropped or stuff at a new pousada we were off again, this time walking and bussing to a local lady's flat for a fejoida and drinking day. Jamie had mentioned this Sunday tradition; eat loads of heavy beef and beans and get really drunk. The day was brilliant, just loads of different people (English, French, Spanish, American and Recifenses). We just nailed loads of caipirinhas and beers and samad round for hours.
The atmosphere was great, everyone buzzing from meeting each other, or new people, or just all being together again. Also the lady who let us all into her house, along with the hostel staff who came, couldn't have been better to us. Can't thank them enough for how hospitable they were, just the idea of letting a load of random drunk foreigners into a house at home would be unfathomable at home, let alone letting them dance around all day. Great people, typical Brazilian attitude.
The best thing about the fejoida party was how whole thing was played out in a completely relaxed atmosphere; it wasn't too hot, there was plenty of booze and even more food. Also there was a cute little baby, giggling and bumping his way round the room, for the girls (and mabye the odd guy) to coo over and practice with. Catarina, the American girls we met in Sao Luis, was at our hostel as well. Really pleased that her and Alex met up again, especially in such an unplanned manner, theres something special between them.
In the early evening we made our way back to town to go to a few parties. Typically we just ended up in a few different groups traipsing our way around town trying to find this reggae party. Our 'guide' first took us to a different party full of kids, next to a church service, bit strange watching a church service next to this heaving mass of capoeira and teenagers. Eventually found everyone though and had a great night, wheeling round the town, going to bars, meeting people. The atmosphere in the whole town was just alive and really friendly, hundreds of people just enjoying themselves, Brazilian and travellers. In Brazil you just naturally meet people and have a grea ttime, its a giving culture.
Walking all over Olinda at night may not have been ideal, but at least it sobered me up a bit and we were able to see a lot more of this pretty old town, similar in its colonial feel to Sao Luis. Not enough time to explore or even observe all the old buildings properly. I guess its yet another place I'll have to return to. One particularly distinctive old church sits, decrepit, at the top of an overgrown hill near our hostel. It has the classic facade of a Brazilian church but run down, almost to the point of toppling over. But it doesn't and instead presides over the lower part of the town, hidden amongst a variety of trees and reminding everyone of the old splendour, now modern character, that is sprinkled all over Olinda.
Friday, 22 August 2008
Recife, Day 31
Woke up to the news that it was past nine o'clock and we were on the hourly rate. We whipped our stuff together and flew out the door, in the end they didn't charge us anything extra and, despite trying to pay, my Portuguese wasn't good enough to get the message across and Rob and I got the night for free.
The hostels we stayed in were rough, offering a few hours for a few reals if you needed a room quick, but not for long. Alex slept on his own over the road and apparently that was even worse, lipstick smears predominant around the walls and mirrors.
We nipped off in the car to see the biggest tourist attraction of the city: the Iglesa de San Francisco. It was a nice church; distinctive with its old tiled entrance and gargoyle lions. Also on the other side was a huge expanse of jungle with virtually nothing in it, just a jungle joining the middle of a city. Had some lunch down by the sea and Fran Hunter, a friend from Leeds, walked past. I knew she was in Brazil but not here and it was lucky I saw her, because it'll probably be a while now.
So we ate, lounged around with a few beers and then drove again, taking as much time in Recife to find a hostel as it did to get there. This car travel is frustrating sometimes and its definitely getting on top of Alex and Raphael. Everyone was bit low in the evening: the hostel was poor and the girls in Olinda (historic town by Recife) were paying a lot less, the weather was bad and we were all a bit tired. Found an all you can eat sushi for about six or seven pound though and its amazing how quickly you pick up with some decent food.
Been thinking about what I wrote a few days back, about these notes nose-diving in terms of interest. Realised that I haven't been illustrating places well because we haven't been fully exploring them. Our stays since Sao Luis have been ephemeral as we've charged off further round the coast to see another resort. Leaving Pipa one night before the girls was a mistake, though it meant I saw Fran. Not staying in Olinda last night was a mistake as well. Maybe having a bigger group size is blurring the thought processes a bit. From now on we haven't got time to make any more mistakes.
Still, though, we do have a lot of miles to make up and have to keep moving, and I can't say the whole experience hasn't been eye-opening, and we're still making as much of our time here as possible. And a few days in Salvador and more in Rio will make all the rushing worthwhile.
The hostels we stayed in were rough, offering a few hours for a few reals if you needed a room quick, but not for long. Alex slept on his own over the road and apparently that was even worse, lipstick smears predominant around the walls and mirrors.
We nipped off in the car to see the biggest tourist attraction of the city: the Iglesa de San Francisco. It was a nice church; distinctive with its old tiled entrance and gargoyle lions. Also on the other side was a huge expanse of jungle with virtually nothing in it, just a jungle joining the middle of a city. Had some lunch down by the sea and Fran Hunter, a friend from Leeds, walked past. I knew she was in Brazil but not here and it was lucky I saw her, because it'll probably be a while now.
So we ate, lounged around with a few beers and then drove again, taking as much time in Recife to find a hostel as it did to get there. This car travel is frustrating sometimes and its definitely getting on top of Alex and Raphael. Everyone was bit low in the evening: the hostel was poor and the girls in Olinda (historic town by Recife) were paying a lot less, the weather was bad and we were all a bit tired. Found an all you can eat sushi for about six or seven pound though and its amazing how quickly you pick up with some decent food.
Been thinking about what I wrote a few days back, about these notes nose-diving in terms of interest. Realised that I haven't been illustrating places well because we haven't been fully exploring them. Our stays since Sao Luis have been ephemeral as we've charged off further round the coast to see another resort. Leaving Pipa one night before the girls was a mistake, though it meant I saw Fran. Not staying in Olinda last night was a mistake as well. Maybe having a bigger group size is blurring the thought processes a bit. From now on we haven't got time to make any more mistakes.
Still, though, we do have a lot of miles to make up and have to keep moving, and I can't say the whole experience hasn't been eye-opening, and we're still making as much of our time here as possible. And a few days in Salvador and more in Rio will make all the rushing worthwhile.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Joao Pessoa, Day 30
Most of today (yesterday really, I´m writing this in the future again) was spent in Pipa. Early doors we went along a few beaches, with the intention of moving out onto the road again quite early. The beach is famous for becoming full of friendly dolphins who swim around you when the tides in. Renaud and Raga both got near some but unfortunately I seemed to repel them and didn´t get to naturally swim with one, which would have been quite memorable. We ended up baking under the sune for a few hours before we dragged ourselves off the beach and out of the sun.
Have to say that this beach was probably my favourite out of all the ones we have been to. I might be getting a little tired of daily beach session where I end up sitting in the shade watching tannable people lieing in the sun, but its special to sea such a scene of blue sky, turquoise sea and mottled cliffs.
Despite only paying for a night at this campsite we ended up staying till it was almost dark, cooking food and idly ambling around. I think we slightly annoyed the owner but it was such a pretty little spot I don´t think anyone wanted to leave. Had the most amazing shower: water pouring out of a ceramic pot in an open-top cubicle, looking up out at the palm trees and clear skies. Again the food was great, compliments to Alex who cooked it.
Eventually we managed to get our things together and pile all five guys with baggage into the car, which was pretty much crammed full. The girls will meet us in Recife. The drive wasn´t great, we were all aovered in bags and bottles all the way. Joao Pessao is the least touristy place I´ve been to in Brazil, a complete contrast with Pipa. Found some cheap hostels to chuck our stuff in and ventured out through the now increasing rain. There was some sort of party going on but we seem to bring torrential rain to every big party we go to and we had to find somewhere to eat.
Found a little snack bar and filled ourselves with burgers and Bohemia. Just after we had almost dried out and we were feeling better we inexplicably decided to walk back through the now apocalyptic downfall. We were soaked through in minutes and half-drowned, though not at all cold, by the time we dripped through the door of our hostel and straight into our various beds.
Have to say that this beach was probably my favourite out of all the ones we have been to. I might be getting a little tired of daily beach session where I end up sitting in the shade watching tannable people lieing in the sun, but its special to sea such a scene of blue sky, turquoise sea and mottled cliffs.
Despite only paying for a night at this campsite we ended up staying till it was almost dark, cooking food and idly ambling around. I think we slightly annoyed the owner but it was such a pretty little spot I don´t think anyone wanted to leave. Had the most amazing shower: water pouring out of a ceramic pot in an open-top cubicle, looking up out at the palm trees and clear skies. Again the food was great, compliments to Alex who cooked it.
Eventually we managed to get our things together and pile all five guys with baggage into the car, which was pretty much crammed full. The girls will meet us in Recife. The drive wasn´t great, we were all aovered in bags and bottles all the way. Joao Pessao is the least touristy place I´ve been to in Brazil, a complete contrast with Pipa. Found some cheap hostels to chuck our stuff in and ventured out through the now increasing rain. There was some sort of party going on but we seem to bring torrential rain to every big party we go to and we had to find somewhere to eat.
Found a little snack bar and filled ourselves with burgers and Bohemia. Just after we had almost dried out and we were feeling better we inexplicably decided to walk back through the now apocalyptic downfall. We were soaked through in minutes and half-drowned, though not at all cold, by the time we dripped through the door of our hostel and straight into our various beds.
Praia de Pipa, Day 29
We crawled into Bulouz and dispersed around to nap in various places. Later, after milling around in Bulouz for a while, wandering up and down the beach and slurping down a few beers and shrimps, we decided to go to Praia de Pipa, the agreed destination for the evening. This holiday really has become a journey, we're constantly on the moce, flitting round towns, sleeping cheap and shifting out.
Took a bit of a risk and decided to let the car tyres down and drive the beach way, chopping a ninety kilometre drive down to twenty or so. Most people pay a local with experience to drive for them but in Rafa we had the next best thing so we decided to just go for it. Getting onto the beach was a bit of a struggle and took a few attempts. Basically Raphael had to drive a fully loaded golf up a high steep sand dune and the first few times slid off the right line, sinking into the sand. Managed to nail it the third time though and we pushed it over the top and down the other side. Then we tore along the sea edge, keeping off the heavy sand and clipping the odd venturing wave. The drive was exhilarating as well as scenic, everyone was buzzing. A couple of times it was also a bit dodgy, almost getting stuck as the tide ominously advanced, Rafa managed to just about beat the creeping waves to the ferry pick up point.
On the other side I managed to eat four crackers in one minute, and Raf ate four and a half. Made everyone sign my pad here to recognise this feat.
After a far less interesting and spectacular drive we pulled up in Praia de Pipa (Kite Beach). Travelling in the car with these two has definite advantages; mainly the company and the music, and saving time. Also have been able to get to know Rafa and Alex more. It is hot though, and less roomy, and it was a relief to get out again.
Another day, another journey, another tropical paradise. Pipa is another beachy village with its own distinct atmosphere: less rustic than Jeri, noisier than Canoa Quebrada, but still a joy to be in. We eventually made our way to a campsite via the beach. Seemed this afternoon was quite hard work, especially for Rafa who was driving. The campsite is a wonderful antidote to any stress anyone might have though; empty, spacious and characterful. We decided to have a cheap evening and made our own food, spaghetti with veg and fried aubergine. Great work from Alex here. Also had some Açai for the first time: a pulped purple fruit with granola and banana mixed in, really nice.
After some expertly made caipirinhas we headed off into town. I was getting a bit worried about meeting Renaud and the girls but, as Rafa predicted, we bumped into them round the first corner we walked. Told us Jamie was in town as well and the night started to stretch out before us. The tourist strip in Pipa is uncomfortable, bright lights and concrete are slightly obtuse in these natural surroundings. There is a different tourist vibe from other places we´ve been and not much interaction with the local people. To be honest the night in the town seemed a bit sterile. We ended up moving on to a cool, worn little reggae bar next to our campsite for a while and then onto a beach party, minus Leia and Cecilia who were tired.
To get to the party we had to trek over unforgiving, rough, hilly terrain along the side of the sea to this secluded house. There was some live music and loads of people, Jamie and his two friends included (Lawrie and Col, two musicians who´re working holidaying here). My impressions of the night, finishing this in the morning, are slightly blurred but I can distinctly recall a butchered version of ´Knocking on Heaven´s Door´, bumping into our German friends, chatting away to a few people and being subjected to chart R+B for a while before we left, on an even more unforgiving and harder walk back uphill. It seems you can travel thousands of miles, completely shake off the shackles of English culture but you can´t escape Usher, cringingly, wanted to ´make love in this club´.
Took a bit of a risk and decided to let the car tyres down and drive the beach way, chopping a ninety kilometre drive down to twenty or so. Most people pay a local with experience to drive for them but in Rafa we had the next best thing so we decided to just go for it. Getting onto the beach was a bit of a struggle and took a few attempts. Basically Raphael had to drive a fully loaded golf up a high steep sand dune and the first few times slid off the right line, sinking into the sand. Managed to nail it the third time though and we pushed it over the top and down the other side. Then we tore along the sea edge, keeping off the heavy sand and clipping the odd venturing wave. The drive was exhilarating as well as scenic, everyone was buzzing. A couple of times it was also a bit dodgy, almost getting stuck as the tide ominously advanced, Rafa managed to just about beat the creeping waves to the ferry pick up point.
On the other side I managed to eat four crackers in one minute, and Raf ate four and a half. Made everyone sign my pad here to recognise this feat.
After a far less interesting and spectacular drive we pulled up in Praia de Pipa (Kite Beach). Travelling in the car with these two has definite advantages; mainly the company and the music, and saving time. Also have been able to get to know Rafa and Alex more. It is hot though, and less roomy, and it was a relief to get out again.
Another day, another journey, another tropical paradise. Pipa is another beachy village with its own distinct atmosphere: less rustic than Jeri, noisier than Canoa Quebrada, but still a joy to be in. We eventually made our way to a campsite via the beach. Seemed this afternoon was quite hard work, especially for Rafa who was driving. The campsite is a wonderful antidote to any stress anyone might have though; empty, spacious and characterful. We decided to have a cheap evening and made our own food, spaghetti with veg and fried aubergine. Great work from Alex here. Also had some Açai for the first time: a pulped purple fruit with granola and banana mixed in, really nice.
After some expertly made caipirinhas we headed off into town. I was getting a bit worried about meeting Renaud and the girls but, as Rafa predicted, we bumped into them round the first corner we walked. Told us Jamie was in town as well and the night started to stretch out before us. The tourist strip in Pipa is uncomfortable, bright lights and concrete are slightly obtuse in these natural surroundings. There is a different tourist vibe from other places we´ve been and not much interaction with the local people. To be honest the night in the town seemed a bit sterile. We ended up moving on to a cool, worn little reggae bar next to our campsite for a while and then onto a beach party, minus Leia and Cecilia who were tired.
To get to the party we had to trek over unforgiving, rough, hilly terrain along the side of the sea to this secluded house. There was some live music and loads of people, Jamie and his two friends included (Lawrie and Col, two musicians who´re working holidaying here). My impressions of the night, finishing this in the morning, are slightly blurred but I can distinctly recall a butchered version of ´Knocking on Heaven´s Door´, bumping into our German friends, chatting away to a few people and being subjected to chart R+B for a while before we left, on an even more unforgiving and harder walk back uphill. It seems you can travel thousands of miles, completely shake off the shackles of English culture but you can´t escape Usher, cringingly, wanted to ´make love in this club´.
Monday, 18 August 2008
Day 28
Not a bad nights sleep in front of the fire. Woke up under the sun's already prickling heat, striking through the clouds, at about eight o'clock, and decided to hike up into town for something to eat. Already a lot of faces are familiar around here, it has the small village characteristic of personability wherever you go. One thing about travelling in an ever so slightly inflated group as this one is constant difficulty over deciding what to do and getting everyone to do it. n the end we dispersed around the main street and arranged to meet on the beach later.
This we managed without too much difficulty. This beach was notable for first the volume of dead fish milling around the shore and second the sand castle/community that Alex built, with a bit of input from Renaud and I. It had: a football pitch, a favela, three roads and entrances, a church in the shape of a female goddess, gallows, a portcullis, an assortment of outer walls, buildings and a starfish somewhere.
In the evening Rob and I had a chat with an English couple we met. Seemed relieved to speak to everybody other than each other, think they have the same isolated feeling we had in Sao Paolo. Weirdly, though, they seemed keen to talk about hostile atmospheres and strange looks from the locals in places. Definitely an air of apprehension around them. Must be hard as a couple to travel, especially with no language, and they just reinforced how lucky we have been on the trip.
We decided that Rob and I would go in the car with the guys, and split the cost of a bus ticket with Renaud, who went off with the Spanish girls. I'm finishing off writing this in the morning and we're waiting for them on the edge of a beach in Buzois. Could have organised this a bit better, both groups have at least one phone between them but not the other's number. The drive here was long and hard for Alex and Raphael, and uncomfortable for Rob and I, or at least hard to sleep through. Felt sorry for the guys though, and you could almost smell the stress levels rise as we creeped across towards our target.
I'm getting the impression in the last week or so that writing these notes every day is getting harder, and they're consequently getting boring, or repetitive; theres only so many times you can write "I'm having a great time, the beaches are great, I love the food" before it starts to grate a bit. Guess I'll just have to try a bit harder to observe everything closer and think a bit more.
This we managed without too much difficulty. This beach was notable for first the volume of dead fish milling around the shore and second the sand castle/community that Alex built, with a bit of input from Renaud and I. It had: a football pitch, a favela, three roads and entrances, a church in the shape of a female goddess, gallows, a portcullis, an assortment of outer walls, buildings and a starfish somewhere.
In the evening Rob and I had a chat with an English couple we met. Seemed relieved to speak to everybody other than each other, think they have the same isolated feeling we had in Sao Paolo. Weirdly, though, they seemed keen to talk about hostile atmospheres and strange looks from the locals in places. Definitely an air of apprehension around them. Must be hard as a couple to travel, especially with no language, and they just reinforced how lucky we have been on the trip.
We decided that Rob and I would go in the car with the guys, and split the cost of a bus ticket with Renaud, who went off with the Spanish girls. I'm finishing off writing this in the morning and we're waiting for them on the edge of a beach in Buzois. Could have organised this a bit better, both groups have at least one phone between them but not the other's number. The drive here was long and hard for Alex and Raphael, and uncomfortable for Rob and I, or at least hard to sleep through. Felt sorry for the guys though, and you could almost smell the stress levels rise as we creeped across towards our target.
I'm getting the impression in the last week or so that writing these notes every day is getting harder, and they're consequently getting boring, or repetitive; theres only so many times you can write "I'm having a great time, the beaches are great, I love the food" before it starts to grate a bit. Guess I'll just have to try a bit harder to observe everything closer and think a bit more.
Canoa Quebrada, Day 27
Left Fortaleza in a predictably rough state this morning. The girls took the bags and the bus and we hopped in the car with Rafa and Alex, who're hopefully going to come along with us for a while. Can't help but think that we got a much better deal there. The drive wasn't too long and woke me up a bit so by the time we got to a forgiving, cool, tranquil Canoa Quebrada everyone had perked up a lot.
This is another small beachy place, like Jeri, with pure and endless sandy resplendence, on the edge of which lies an equally touristy and sedate village. (Insert another drawing by Renaud, this time embellished by Alex's arty contribution).
Once we had collected the girls from the bus and joined the whole group together (quite a struggle when there are eight of us dotted around) we went on the hunt for a meal. This resort seems more family filled than by travellers, especially compared to Jeri. Circled the main streets before we settled at a pretty little pizzaria. The food was amazing, and we ended up sitting in their open garden area and listening to music for a few hours. We decided to sleep on the beach again, its safe and free, but wandered around having a few drinks first. Found a place that did caipirinhas for R$1, just over 30p.
The group we're in at the moment has a really nice blend of different characters, and the general ambience between everyone also helps. The Spanish girls are funny and bubbly, always giggling at something or other. Alex and Raphael are equally sparky, I guess we've been really lucky to end up spending all of the last few weeks with such accommodating and lively people. We eventually wound our way down to the beach and set up a couple of tents, which nobody used. Managed to get a decent fire going as well. The sky wasn't clear like in Jeri, but it was a much more comfortable and sheltered spot. Canoa Quebrada is a great place, a stunning place in fact, but I think we're off again tomorrow. We've got a lot of miles to make up.
This is another small beachy place, like Jeri, with pure and endless sandy resplendence, on the edge of which lies an equally touristy and sedate village. (Insert another drawing by Renaud, this time embellished by Alex's arty contribution).
Once we had collected the girls from the bus and joined the whole group together (quite a struggle when there are eight of us dotted around) we went on the hunt for a meal. This resort seems more family filled than by travellers, especially compared to Jeri. Circled the main streets before we settled at a pretty little pizzaria. The food was amazing, and we ended up sitting in their open garden area and listening to music for a few hours. We decided to sleep on the beach again, its safe and free, but wandered around having a few drinks first. Found a place that did caipirinhas for R$1, just over 30p.
The group we're in at the moment has a really nice blend of different characters, and the general ambience between everyone also helps. The Spanish girls are funny and bubbly, always giggling at something or other. Alex and Raphael are equally sparky, I guess we've been really lucky to end up spending all of the last few weeks with such accommodating and lively people. We eventually wound our way down to the beach and set up a couple of tents, which nobody used. Managed to get a decent fire going as well. The sky wasn't clear like in Jeri, but it was a much more comfortable and sheltered spot. Canoa Quebrada is a great place, a stunning place in fact, but I think we're off again tomorrow. We've got a lot of miles to make up.
Day 26
Had to blearily travel for a few hours early this morning, but it was well worth it, even with the broken aircon freezing Rob and I most of the way. Morro Blanco is, at least in my experience, a really unique beach. We walked for a mile or so out of the tourist resort and the white sands were lined with intricate rock formations, which looked like old river beds. The colours were amazing; orange, red, white, green all marbling together or layering up these sediment cliffs. The rocks were incredibly fragile, breaking away when touched, it seemed like the whole mass was just hardened, dyed sand. I even crafted a couple of reading thrones into them with a stick.
We settled on a private little spot and I trekked off, only for twenty minutes or so, to scale a steep, high dune. Hard work but from the top a huge expanse opened up, a vista of beaches, thick forest, thin sandy-bedded trees, distant mountains and small lagoons. All this pierced by human mechanical innovations: transmitters, factories, windmills accompanying the small settlements. The sheer scale of it was breathtaking, I was at the highest point visible for miles and miles, its hard to judge a distance like that but it must have been fifty miles at least. A circling eagle perhaps warned me that I was near its nest so bounced back down the dune onto the beach.
For the next three or four hours we were completely alone, save one buggy which sped past. A white soft beach flanked by a wild sea and interesting landscape would be packed at home, I guess here its just one of many. So we whiled away the hours; the Europeans sunning themselves, Rob and I mainly keeping in the shade having been tickled pink in Fortaleza before. In the afternoon we saw a few more buggies but generally everwhere was quiet and serene.
Caught a bus back and hung around doing nothing for a few hours. Then we necked down a few more pastels as a base and started getting a few drinks down. At about midnight we headed down, minus Alex who had wandered off, to Pirata. The next seven or so hours were interesting, and would be memorable if I hadn't drunk a little bit too much. To be honest the club didn't live up to the impressive billing Renaud gave it. Met loads of funny people though, and a few questionable types as well, all through the night. There was even a member of 'Banana Chewing-Gum' (also played at the carnival) on stage. I must be lucky to have seen them twice.
I'm not sure if these big, set-piece parties are really my kind of thing here. Generally the ambience is better just sipping down a few beers in a busy bar district. The seedy undercurrent was exposed when we wandered around afterwards and ended up in a street full of whores mostly young and exploited. Tomorrow we're on the road again after a very little sleep. Alex turned up, having wandered off, got bad directions, got lost, not had enough money to get into the club and taxied back.
We settled on a private little spot and I trekked off, only for twenty minutes or so, to scale a steep, high dune. Hard work but from the top a huge expanse opened up, a vista of beaches, thick forest, thin sandy-bedded trees, distant mountains and small lagoons. All this pierced by human mechanical innovations: transmitters, factories, windmills accompanying the small settlements. The sheer scale of it was breathtaking, I was at the highest point visible for miles and miles, its hard to judge a distance like that but it must have been fifty miles at least. A circling eagle perhaps warned me that I was near its nest so bounced back down the dune onto the beach.
For the next three or four hours we were completely alone, save one buggy which sped past. A white soft beach flanked by a wild sea and interesting landscape would be packed at home, I guess here its just one of many. So we whiled away the hours; the Europeans sunning themselves, Rob and I mainly keeping in the shade having been tickled pink in Fortaleza before. In the afternoon we saw a few more buggies but generally everwhere was quiet and serene.
Caught a bus back and hung around doing nothing for a few hours. Then we necked down a few more pastels as a base and started getting a few drinks down. At about midnight we headed down, minus Alex who had wandered off, to Pirata. The next seven or so hours were interesting, and would be memorable if I hadn't drunk a little bit too much. To be honest the club didn't live up to the impressive billing Renaud gave it. Met loads of funny people though, and a few questionable types as well, all through the night. There was even a member of 'Banana Chewing-Gum' (also played at the carnival) on stage. I must be lucky to have seen them twice.
I'm not sure if these big, set-piece parties are really my kind of thing here. Generally the ambience is better just sipping down a few beers in a busy bar district. The seedy undercurrent was exposed when we wandered around afterwards and ended up in a street full of whores mostly young and exploited. Tomorrow we're on the road again after a very little sleep. Alex turned up, having wandered off, got bad directions, got lost, not had enough money to get into the club and taxied back.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Day 25
Woke up surprisingly comfortably for breakfast today, which we rinsed. It was the standard lot, but with cakes which no other hostel has had. We wanted to go to a beach called 'Morro Blanco' but the Sunday bus service meant it would have been a waste of time. Instead we just staying in Fortal and lay around on the beach here. This section of the coast seems a lot less sheltered and serene than Jeri was, the waves hurling themselves powerfully against the shore, I suppose its a lot more exposed to the Atlantic.
The beach side in Fortaleza s slightly charmless; rows of high-rise towers line the edge of the beach all the way along. It was also fairly busy, but this worked out well as I joined in another football match for a while. They play a weird sort of three-a-side, random subbing system here but it was a good laugh, and at least I didn't disgrace myself.
Spent a few hours in the evening typing some of these notes up, which is a pretty laborious task and I'm way behind (*edit and still am, about three weeks and a different continent away). Tucked into a couple of pastels on the way home. There things are great; huge fried pasty sort of things with different fillings in.
Walked with the girls to a nearby area which gave us a completely different view of the city: vibrant, busy and stylish. Continued our habit of bumping into people almost immediately when we spied Alex and Raphael sharing a beer. Seems Catarina fell in love with Camocim and wanted to stay there for a while. Alex and Rafa are still doing well with the project and keeping on top of all the filming. Everyone is starting to talk about leaving though; Cecilia and Leia on the 5th; Joanna on the 9th, us on the 13th; Renaud, Alex and Raf a week or so later.
Still I don't think any of us can really complain too much, especially Al and Raf who took the end off their year at Brighton Uni to come here. Had an early start so after a few beers and a chat for the lads, and a meal for the ladies, we wound our way back to the hostel for the night. Off to the beach tomorrow, then out to this club, and off on Tuesday. From what Raphael say about what Fortaleza has to offer, especially different art things, I think we may have missed out a bit. Still we've had some sun and inexpensive days, both of which we needed.
The beach side in Fortaleza s slightly charmless; rows of high-rise towers line the edge of the beach all the way along. It was also fairly busy, but this worked out well as I joined in another football match for a while. They play a weird sort of three-a-side, random subbing system here but it was a good laugh, and at least I didn't disgrace myself.
Spent a few hours in the evening typing some of these notes up, which is a pretty laborious task and I'm way behind (*edit and still am, about three weeks and a different continent away). Tucked into a couple of pastels on the way home. There things are great; huge fried pasty sort of things with different fillings in.
Walked with the girls to a nearby area which gave us a completely different view of the city: vibrant, busy and stylish. Continued our habit of bumping into people almost immediately when we spied Alex and Raphael sharing a beer. Seems Catarina fell in love with Camocim and wanted to stay there for a while. Alex and Rafa are still doing well with the project and keeping on top of all the filming. Everyone is starting to talk about leaving though; Cecilia and Leia on the 5th; Joanna on the 9th, us on the 13th; Renaud, Alex and Raf a week or so later.
Still I don't think any of us can really complain too much, especially Al and Raf who took the end off their year at Brighton Uni to come here. Had an early start so after a few beers and a chat for the lads, and a meal for the ladies, we wound our way back to the hostel for the night. Off to the beach tomorrow, then out to this club, and off on Tuesday. From what Raphael say about what Fortaleza has to offer, especially different art things, I think we may have missed out a bit. Still we've had some sun and inexpensive days, both of which we needed.
Fortaleza, Day 24
Woke up to a subtle yellow dawn on our dune. During the night we were only bothered by two guys asking what we were doing, and a horse fighting a dog. I think they were just checking we were ok (the two guys, not the animals), you can do what you want here. Picked up our bads and bade farewell to Jamie at the hostel. Definitely going to take up his offer of a room in Rio. We were all pretty much coated in sand so it was a relief, seven boring hours later, to get to Fortaleza, find the girls hostel and clean up a bit.
Munched down a few salgados and walked around for a few hours. Fortaleza, at a glance, lacks the colonial charm of Sao Luis, and is too big to be as quietly beautiful as Jeri, but I think we'll have a good few nights here. Renaud has told us that the best night in the Americas is here on Monday, hope he is right.
Missed dinner cause Rob and I needed to get a few hours kip before the carnival we went to. Just about managed to rouse ourselves and bus over there. Outside were lines of taxis and groups of mainly young Brazilians milling about, a lot of them nailing suspicious looking bottle of coke. Found out why when we got in and it was R$3 for a beer, and a lot more for anything else. When we first got in, though, some people couldn't even stand up. Even so this kind of party works in Brazil when it could never happen in England. We only had cheap tickets so couldn't walk in the cordoned off area next to the circling trucks. There were thousands of people everywhere though, all just going wild the whole time, so it didn't really matter.
Everyone was dancing and into it, none of the self-conscious posteuring that would hamper a similar event at home. I think the bands who played live and loud on top of the trucks were quite famous, but to be honest they were pretty bad: cheesey Brazilian 'forro'. Funny night, though, capped off when it started to rain quite torrentially, which meant the end for about half the people but everyone left just went even more insane, splashing around. Can't imagine what the Rio carnival is like; much bigger, lnonger and busier at least. Crammed onto typically unsafe buses to get home. Almost felt like we didn't quite make the most of the night, not being able to afford more than one beer. This is almost like going to Tiger Tiger sobre, just with a lot more character (*edit this comparison is way too harsh, nothing is like going to Tiger Tiger sobre or drunk). There was still the sense, though, that everone else was having a lot more fun than you.
Munched down a few salgados and walked around for a few hours. Fortaleza, at a glance, lacks the colonial charm of Sao Luis, and is too big to be as quietly beautiful as Jeri, but I think we'll have a good few nights here. Renaud has told us that the best night in the Americas is here on Monday, hope he is right.
Missed dinner cause Rob and I needed to get a few hours kip before the carnival we went to. Just about managed to rouse ourselves and bus over there. Outside were lines of taxis and groups of mainly young Brazilians milling about, a lot of them nailing suspicious looking bottle of coke. Found out why when we got in and it was R$3 for a beer, and a lot more for anything else. When we first got in, though, some people couldn't even stand up. Even so this kind of party works in Brazil when it could never happen in England. We only had cheap tickets so couldn't walk in the cordoned off area next to the circling trucks. There were thousands of people everywhere though, all just going wild the whole time, so it didn't really matter.
Everyone was dancing and into it, none of the self-conscious posteuring that would hamper a similar event at home. I think the bands who played live and loud on top of the trucks were quite famous, but to be honest they were pretty bad: cheesey Brazilian 'forro'. Funny night, though, capped off when it started to rain quite torrentially, which meant the end for about half the people but everyone left just went even more insane, splashing around. Can't imagine what the Rio carnival is like; much bigger, lnonger and busier at least. Crammed onto typically unsafe buses to get home. Almost felt like we didn't quite make the most of the night, not being able to afford more than one beer. This is almost like going to Tiger Tiger sobre, just with a lot more character (*edit this comparison is way too harsh, nothing is like going to Tiger Tiger sobre or drunk). There was still the sense, though, that everone else was having a lot more fun than you.
Day 23
*This entry starts with an original map drawn by Renaud, I'll try to scan it in so yo can all have his impression of the town as well as mine*
Got up early today today, considering last nights late end, but when we got to the bus station there were only two places left for tonight. This has put us in a bit of a bad money situation; we have enough for the bus tomorrow morning but not for accomodation tonight and barely enough for the day. Jamie is staying for another night so he should be ok, its just us three roughing it.
All four of us went for a long walk in the mid-morning, along the coast edge. Spent a few hours just lieing down or swimming on our own private beach, apart from the odd couple of person selling beer we didn't see anyone all day. The water is so warm in the sea its untrue, and on these less sheltered parts of the coast the waves are head high. This area of coast was gruelling to get to, the exposed sand burning our feet up and down different hills most of the way there, but it was worth it. In just a few hundred yards here the contrast and variety in rock formations and life is startling, especially considering the tranquil sand dunes that line the other side of Jeri.
Theres a rock which you can watch the sunset through but we walked back along the encrusted shore instead, and watched it on the sand dunes after a quick game of football. We were only playing against a few Brazilian kids and it was quite a funny match, in which at some point we all got embarrassed by someone about a decade younger than us (two in Jamie's case).
To be honest the sunset on the dune was underwhelming, I think we've been a bit spoilt. The view from high was wonderful though, dunes flowing down one side and the idyllic little town on the other.
All in all it was a quiet evening. We had a great meal on Renaud's credit card and then picked up our hammocks and went back to the dunes to sleep under the sky, full of the brightest stars you'll ever see. The whole sky glowed, vivid with these burning clusters of light. So we watched for a while and then drifted off. Despite the sandy wind I could sleep rough here anytime.
Got up early today today, considering last nights late end, but when we got to the bus station there were only two places left for tonight. This has put us in a bit of a bad money situation; we have enough for the bus tomorrow morning but not for accomodation tonight and barely enough for the day. Jamie is staying for another night so he should be ok, its just us three roughing it.
All four of us went for a long walk in the mid-morning, along the coast edge. Spent a few hours just lieing down or swimming on our own private beach, apart from the odd couple of person selling beer we didn't see anyone all day. The water is so warm in the sea its untrue, and on these less sheltered parts of the coast the waves are head high. This area of coast was gruelling to get to, the exposed sand burning our feet up and down different hills most of the way there, but it was worth it. In just a few hundred yards here the contrast and variety in rock formations and life is startling, especially considering the tranquil sand dunes that line the other side of Jeri.
Theres a rock which you can watch the sunset through but we walked back along the encrusted shore instead, and watched it on the sand dunes after a quick game of football. We were only playing against a few Brazilian kids and it was quite a funny match, in which at some point we all got embarrassed by someone about a decade younger than us (two in Jamie's case).
To be honest the sunset on the dune was underwhelming, I think we've been a bit spoilt. The view from high was wonderful though, dunes flowing down one side and the idyllic little town on the other.
All in all it was a quiet evening. We had a great meal on Renaud's credit card and then picked up our hammocks and went back to the dunes to sleep under the sky, full of the brightest stars you'll ever see. The whole sky glowed, vivid with these burning clusters of light. So we watched for a while and then drifted off. Despite the sandy wind I could sleep rough here anytime.
Friday, 15 August 2008
Jericoacoara, Day 22
Settled back into the familiar travelling groove of waiting and watching today, for three hours in a hot square in Camocim. We were with Jamie and the two Isreali guys to try and get a better deal. In these situations, though, Rob and I sometimes feel a little redundant, sitting in the shade doing nothing whilst everyone else does all the hard work. I'm sure they don't see it like that but I wish I spoke a decent amount of Portuguese. While we were waiting I saw the Brazilian version of electoral campaigning, a car blaring cheesy Brazilian music, with an attractive lady perched on top, waving a flag and looking completely bored.
The drive to Jeri was short and scenig, skirting round the edge of the dunes and ploughing through beached on a Toyota wagon, overloaded with people. A typically Brazilian contrast ocurred when we reached a small delta on this new piece of mechanical technology, only to be loaded onto a raft and pushed across by a man with a long stick.
Jericoacoara is the first place I have ever been to which is a genuine 'tropical paradise', and makes you understand the true meaning of the phrase. A palm tree laden, sand-streeted village is lined on one side by high sand dunes, the other dominated by a harsher, more exposed rock formation and bursting with wooden thatched huts, and charming pousadas. It is unsurprisingly a haven for travellers and judging by the non-Brazilian who tried to pursuade us to stay at her hostel a fair number can't drag themselves away.
We eventually bartered one hostel-owner down to twenty reals a night. He seems a real character, toying with his Hilton 100 cigarettes and proudly guiding us round the hostle, showing me a load of certificates I clearly couldn't understand but nodded along with anyway.
We ventured to the beach as soon as we were settled and it is really special, stunning in fact. The water is a warm, light turquoise lined with near snow-like sand. Its hard to do justice to such a scene.
Watched some Brazilian beach football for the second time, and its fairly hectic stuff here as well. At one point a small child planted himself down on the pitch and they just played on around him, one player even hurdling him as he hared after the ball. The little guy was funny, alternating between chasing two play-fighting dogs to drop-kick them and then doing the same to his friends.
Just strolling around a town like this, a country like this, is special. The soft twanging of the 'Birimbau' punctuates the restless sea air, capoeira lessons take place on the beach. Every day now we are forcefully reminded of how lucky we are to be here, and now that we're halfway we're making sure we get as much as possible out of the hoiday.
Bumped into the Spanish girls again, who planned to leave on the nightbus to Fortaleza. They seemed in high spirits, and its always nice to see familiar faces. After a brief beery nap we started to explore the famous Jeri nightlife (Renaud Gallicly tells me its a "great place to make party"). Tried a few tasty new caipirinhas on Jamie's (who has been with us since Camocim) recommendation, passion fruit and strawberry.
At two we went to a party at 'Mama Africa's'. Incredible night. When we walked in we saw a live performance from the beach capoeira tutors. The leader explained at the start that their style was different because they were notably combative and also performed at night, which doesn't sound like much but when bodies started flying, contorting through the air, as close as possible to each other, the effect was startling. One particularly memorable move saw one lad whip himself from standing into a double front-flip kick thing, unbelievable. The Spanish girls couldn't get on the bus, it was fully booked (have to get there early tomorrow) so they came with us as well. The party was fun and the caipirinhas especially nice, so we danced around and pratted about the sandy club till five-ish, then found our way home for a sleep.
The drive to Jeri was short and scenig, skirting round the edge of the dunes and ploughing through beached on a Toyota wagon, overloaded with people. A typically Brazilian contrast ocurred when we reached a small delta on this new piece of mechanical technology, only to be loaded onto a raft and pushed across by a man with a long stick.
Jericoacoara is the first place I have ever been to which is a genuine 'tropical paradise', and makes you understand the true meaning of the phrase. A palm tree laden, sand-streeted village is lined on one side by high sand dunes, the other dominated by a harsher, more exposed rock formation and bursting with wooden thatched huts, and charming pousadas. It is unsurprisingly a haven for travellers and judging by the non-Brazilian who tried to pursuade us to stay at her hostel a fair number can't drag themselves away.
We eventually bartered one hostel-owner down to twenty reals a night. He seems a real character, toying with his Hilton 100 cigarettes and proudly guiding us round the hostle, showing me a load of certificates I clearly couldn't understand but nodded along with anyway.
We ventured to the beach as soon as we were settled and it is really special, stunning in fact. The water is a warm, light turquoise lined with near snow-like sand. Its hard to do justice to such a scene.
Watched some Brazilian beach football for the second time, and its fairly hectic stuff here as well. At one point a small child planted himself down on the pitch and they just played on around him, one player even hurdling him as he hared after the ball. The little guy was funny, alternating between chasing two play-fighting dogs to drop-kick them and then doing the same to his friends.
Just strolling around a town like this, a country like this, is special. The soft twanging of the 'Birimbau' punctuates the restless sea air, capoeira lessons take place on the beach. Every day now we are forcefully reminded of how lucky we are to be here, and now that we're halfway we're making sure we get as much as possible out of the hoiday.
Bumped into the Spanish girls again, who planned to leave on the nightbus to Fortaleza. They seemed in high spirits, and its always nice to see familiar faces. After a brief beery nap we started to explore the famous Jeri nightlife (Renaud Gallicly tells me its a "great place to make party"). Tried a few tasty new caipirinhas on Jamie's (who has been with us since Camocim) recommendation, passion fruit and strawberry.
At two we went to a party at 'Mama Africa's'. Incredible night. When we walked in we saw a live performance from the beach capoeira tutors. The leader explained at the start that their style was different because they were notably combative and also performed at night, which doesn't sound like much but when bodies started flying, contorting through the air, as close as possible to each other, the effect was startling. One particularly memorable move saw one lad whip himself from standing into a double front-flip kick thing, unbelievable. The Spanish girls couldn't get on the bus, it was fully booked (have to get there early tomorrow) so they came with us as well. The party was fun and the caipirinhas especially nice, so we danced around and pratted about the sandy club till five-ish, then found our way home for a sleep.
Barreirenhas, Tutoia, Parnaiba, Camocim, Day 21
Today we just travelled, on buggies crammed with people then on buses. In the morning when we were walking to the first buggy a friendly man stopped in his car and offered us a lift to Sao Luis. Hopefully this is an omen that our hitch-hiking luck has change should we need it again. Shame he wasn't around in Ruropolis.
The first buggy drove around the edge of the desert and through interresting, thick, sometimes farmed land. I think, though, I've become completely laissez-faire to nature unless its wildly extreme, such has been the nature of our trip. As a result it all just sort of passed me by.
We were treated to another entertaining display of Renaud style bargaining this evening in Parnaiba. He spent ten minutes or so bantering these two guys about the price of their food, which was cheap anyway, but we only got a 1R$ discount in the end, and no free beer which was the main aim.
We had met two Isreali guys, Idan and Alan, on the first buggy. At Camocim they were also looking to stay but seemed to want their own space. We left them to it, hostel searching instead with an Englishman called Jamie, who has lived in Rio for four years. I actually thought he was Italian on first seeing him. Really interesting and personable bloke though, he offered us his spare room in Rio within five minutes of meeting us. On first impressions it seems Jamie has led a pretty varied and interesting life and has lots of stories to tell, having lived in India, Poland, Thailand and even Cheltenham before. Told us about an amazing beach near Jericoacoara which we'll go to tomorrow.
The first buggy drove around the edge of the desert and through interresting, thick, sometimes farmed land. I think, though, I've become completely laissez-faire to nature unless its wildly extreme, such has been the nature of our trip. As a result it all just sort of passed me by.
We were treated to another entertaining display of Renaud style bargaining this evening in Parnaiba. He spent ten minutes or so bantering these two guys about the price of their food, which was cheap anyway, but we only got a 1R$ discount in the end, and no free beer which was the main aim.
We had met two Isreali guys, Idan and Alan, on the first buggy. At Camocim they were also looking to stay but seemed to want their own space. We left them to it, hostel searching instead with an Englishman called Jamie, who has lived in Rio for four years. I actually thought he was Italian on first seeing him. Really interesting and personable bloke though, he offered us his spare room in Rio within five minutes of meeting us. On first impressions it seems Jamie has led a pretty varied and interesting life and has lots of stories to tell, having lived in India, Poland, Thailand and even Cheltenham before. Told us about an amazing beach near Jericoacoara which we'll go to tomorrow.
Monday, 11 August 2008
Lencois Marahenses, Day 20
So we did leave and took a coach over to the areas main tourist attraction: the desert at Lencois/Barreirinhas/Marahenses, whatever you want to call it, at 7 o'clock.
Arrived in the afternoon and saw Alex, Catarina and Raphael as we stepped off the bus. We knew they'd be here today but I'm starting to get a sense of the well-worn tourist path around the coast of Brazil, we just keep bumping into people everywhere. Seeing them and rushing off the bus, though, meant that I left my newly started copy of Crime and Punishment on there, which was a bit annoying.
My friend who had travelled in Brazil before did tell me about Marahenses before but nothing can prepare you for it: one hundred and fifty thousand km sq of desert with lagoons of rainwated dotted all over it. A natural wonder that, I think, is specific to this park. Where else is there a desert with water?
Perfect white sand dunes bloom all over the horizon and, after escaping the throng of tourists at the entry, we just lay in the pools banked by unspoilt sand. It looked like a microsoft desktop picture, miles and miles of effortless purity blinding with the reflection of the sun. When the sun started to fall a light blue hue blended the sand with the shadows beautifully before we ended our visit by watching a sunset that was notably breathtaking in a trip laden with oppulent dusk scenes. But there is also natural life in and around this incredible vista. The odd dry shrub, normally accompanied by a wasp or bee's nest, circling eagles and seaweed point to life in, out and above the pools. So in what is really a few hours of travelling time we have gone from seeing jungle to a desert.
Back at Barreirenhas we unrolled the hammocks and went for a few drinks and snacks down the road. Had a brlliant day with the other people, if we'd known before we could have stayed the night in the park, with the eagles and lizards for company. But we'll have to settle for a barn full of hammocks instead.
Arrived in the afternoon and saw Alex, Catarina and Raphael as we stepped off the bus. We knew they'd be here today but I'm starting to get a sense of the well-worn tourist path around the coast of Brazil, we just keep bumping into people everywhere. Seeing them and rushing off the bus, though, meant that I left my newly started copy of Crime and Punishment on there, which was a bit annoying.
My friend who had travelled in Brazil before did tell me about Marahenses before but nothing can prepare you for it: one hundred and fifty thousand km sq of desert with lagoons of rainwated dotted all over it. A natural wonder that, I think, is specific to this park. Where else is there a desert with water?
Perfect white sand dunes bloom all over the horizon and, after escaping the throng of tourists at the entry, we just lay in the pools banked by unspoilt sand. It looked like a microsoft desktop picture, miles and miles of effortless purity blinding with the reflection of the sun. When the sun started to fall a light blue hue blended the sand with the shadows beautifully before we ended our visit by watching a sunset that was notably breathtaking in a trip laden with oppulent dusk scenes. But there is also natural life in and around this incredible vista. The odd dry shrub, normally accompanied by a wasp or bee's nest, circling eagles and seaweed point to life in, out and above the pools. So in what is really a few hours of travelling time we have gone from seeing jungle to a desert.
Back at Barreirenhas we unrolled the hammocks and went for a few drinks and snacks down the road. Had a brlliant day with the other people, if we'd known before we could have stayed the night in the park, with the eagles and lizards for company. But we'll have to settle for a barn full of hammocks instead.
Day 19
Have to be honest, I lost my pen on Day 18 and have only now (on Day 21) been able/bothered to get another and write more things down. As a result today's notes might be quite brief.
Finally made it to the beach today; pure white sands and a roaring tide divided from the hills and woods by lines of bars. I thought it was great, but apparently its below average for a Brazilian beach. They should try spending most of their beach holidays in Pembrokeshire. Wanted to play football but the only game was organised, and it was a bit of a closed shop sort of thing.
All I can really recall after is lazing around supping beer, surrounded by Brazilian teenagers on holiday and escaping from their parents. We saw the Spanish girls again by chance, which was lucky as they legft for Tutoia in the evening, on their way to Jericoacoara. After dinner we bumped into Joaquin and Emilia as well, which was a surprise as we thought they were on their way to Salvador. Seems everyone else spent a lot less than us travelling to SL, these two even slept in a church one night to save money.
The end of the night was spent with a few beers and Renaud's French friends but there was a definite sense that we had 'done' Sao Luis. The carnival wasn't on, the town had calmed town, it was time to move on.
Finally made it to the beach today; pure white sands and a roaring tide divided from the hills and woods by lines of bars. I thought it was great, but apparently its below average for a Brazilian beach. They should try spending most of their beach holidays in Pembrokeshire. Wanted to play football but the only game was organised, and it was a bit of a closed shop sort of thing.
All I can really recall after is lazing around supping beer, surrounded by Brazilian teenagers on holiday and escaping from their parents. We saw the Spanish girls again by chance, which was lucky as they legft for Tutoia in the evening, on their way to Jericoacoara. After dinner we bumped into Joaquin and Emilia as well, which was a surprise as we thought they were on their way to Salvador. Seems everyone else spent a lot less than us travelling to SL, these two even slept in a church one night to save money.
The end of the night was spent with a few beers and Renaud's French friends but there was a definite sense that we had 'done' Sao Luis. The carnival wasn't on, the town had calmed town, it was time to move on.
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Day 18
Got to bed at 6ish last night so we didn`t get up till late today, and as a result only had a half a day out and about in Sao Luis.
Rob`s fallen to a mystery sickness/parasite thing, which seems pretty debilitating. He couldn`t keep down a pretty minor breakfast and when we went for a beer in the evening he left straight off. Inbetween we again failed to find a laundry (it being Sunday) or go to the beach. Nothing of note occurred until 9.30ish when we met some people Renaud knew; an Englishman called Alex, and American girl called Catarina, and two Brazilians called Raphael and Jo. Raphael buzzed us over to a huge, almost empty beach where we shared a few beers and stories, and then back to town where we did the same.
Everyone was up for making more of the night but its hard to go out on a Sunday evening in festival time in Sao Luis. Even so we still all had a good few hours bevying and cahtting away. Alex and Catarina are interesting people. He has taken the last few months of university, Performance Art at Brighton, to develop some kind of art/performance project/film for his course. He is doing this with Raphael, but I only really spoke to Alex about it. He seemed pretty into it and committed, so I hope they pull it off. He also seems to have something to say and a talent to fulfil, so why not go for it. Catarina is travelling through South America alone, which I would have thought was daunting for a girl. However within half an hour it was easy to see how she managed, she has the Renaud-esque ability to talk to anyone, anywhere and in a few different languages.
So the night melted away obscurely and we were delivered home at 1ish, but the people we met were characters, and I think we`ll definitely see them some more on the road.
Rob`s fallen to a mystery sickness/parasite thing, which seems pretty debilitating. He couldn`t keep down a pretty minor breakfast and when we went for a beer in the evening he left straight off. Inbetween we again failed to find a laundry (it being Sunday) or go to the beach. Nothing of note occurred until 9.30ish when we met some people Renaud knew; an Englishman called Alex, and American girl called Catarina, and two Brazilians called Raphael and Jo. Raphael buzzed us over to a huge, almost empty beach where we shared a few beers and stories, and then back to town where we did the same.
Everyone was up for making more of the night but its hard to go out on a Sunday evening in festival time in Sao Luis. Even so we still all had a good few hours bevying and cahtting away. Alex and Catarina are interesting people. He has taken the last few months of university, Performance Art at Brighton, to develop some kind of art/performance project/film for his course. He is doing this with Raphael, but I only really spoke to Alex about it. He seemed pretty into it and committed, so I hope they pull it off. He also seems to have something to say and a talent to fulfil, so why not go for it. Catarina is travelling through South America alone, which I would have thought was daunting for a girl. However within half an hour it was easy to see how she managed, she has the Renaud-esque ability to talk to anyone, anywhere and in a few different languages.
So the night melted away obscurely and we were delivered home at 1ish, but the people we met were characters, and I think we`ll definitely see them some more on the road.
Day 17
Spent most of today meandering through the windy streets of Sao Luis, picking up the odd bit of food from a pretty little French cafe (SL was originally a French colony and the influence lives on) and then from a supermarket. We had planned to go to the beach but instead just napped and lunched in our room. Sao Luis is a really unique, enjoyable city. The buildings are all Georgian, with that alluring frayed-around-the-edges look. Everywhere you turn the not un-Sevillian cobbled streets are lined with contrasting, pastelled houses, or decaying vine-laden facades bursting with character and colour. After one day here Rob and I have been semi-seriously suggesting different places we could buy and run as a hostel. Its just infectious.
Last night after I wrote we went to the nearest square for a few beers. It was rammed full of people, families, and bunting. From Thursday to Sunday this month there is a festival on. Today we went again and saw some of the dancing in thebig hall. A massive room lined with people heaved with life, flares coating the ceiling and beautiful dancers in traditional costumes filling the stage. The centrepiece was a dancing, glittering, bull-costumed man. Didn`t really know what was going on but we were all impressed nonetheless.
Earlier in the day Renaud met two French guys who told him we should go to their restaurant/bar then some party. We decided to have a few drinks first and when we`d just moved onto a caipirinha each the rest of our group turned up: Azir, Joanna, Leia and Cecilia. Still no sign of the Argentines but it was a great coincidence and suddenly the night took off. We decided to move straight on to the party, and two Brazilian girls we had met, Monica and Valeria, came with us.
The party was down on the port, a shortish walk from the centre. We were patted down through and entrance and walked into an area the size of a cricket pitch full, but not crammed, with people just enjoying themselves. It cost nothing to get in, beer was reasonable and there was a live band on. No aggro, no idiots, the kind of thing that could never happen in England. We had a great night; the music, the beer, our friends returning, meeting new ones all blending to coat the night in a glowing, happy haze. We bundled into taxis and got ready to join the others on their Lencois tour, which left at 5am. Unfortunately when we had walked there, and waited for the better part of an hour for our Spanish friends to wake up, we were told that there were no spaces and had to walk home. Can`t have it all, we`ll just have to go on Monday or Tuesday.
Brilliant night allround though. Sao Luis is a special town and another that I`d like to have a lot more time in. The architecture, the reggae, the people (known as the friendliest and most accomodating in a generally friendly country), the general atmosphere is just perfect here.
Last night after I wrote we went to the nearest square for a few beers. It was rammed full of people, families, and bunting. From Thursday to Sunday this month there is a festival on. Today we went again and saw some of the dancing in thebig hall. A massive room lined with people heaved with life, flares coating the ceiling and beautiful dancers in traditional costumes filling the stage. The centrepiece was a dancing, glittering, bull-costumed man. Didn`t really know what was going on but we were all impressed nonetheless.
Earlier in the day Renaud met two French guys who told him we should go to their restaurant/bar then some party. We decided to have a few drinks first and when we`d just moved onto a caipirinha each the rest of our group turned up: Azir, Joanna, Leia and Cecilia. Still no sign of the Argentines but it was a great coincidence and suddenly the night took off. We decided to move straight on to the party, and two Brazilian girls we had met, Monica and Valeria, came with us.
The party was down on the port, a shortish walk from the centre. We were patted down through and entrance and walked into an area the size of a cricket pitch full, but not crammed, with people just enjoying themselves. It cost nothing to get in, beer was reasonable and there was a live band on. No aggro, no idiots, the kind of thing that could never happen in England. We had a great night; the music, the beer, our friends returning, meeting new ones all blending to coat the night in a glowing, happy haze. We bundled into taxis and got ready to join the others on their Lencois tour, which left at 5am. Unfortunately when we had walked there, and waited for the better part of an hour for our Spanish friends to wake up, we were told that there were no spaces and had to walk home. Can`t have it all, we`ll just have to go on Monday or Tuesday.
Brilliant night allround though. Sao Luis is a special town and another that I`d like to have a lot more time in. The architecture, the reggae, the people (known as the friendliest and most accomodating in a generally friendly country), the general atmosphere is just perfect here.
Sao Luis, Day 16
The Journey is over. Four days, over two thousand kilometers and we`re finally in Sao Luis. No more enforced dieting on crackers and water, no more crammed buses or trains full of people and bauxite, no more sleeping rough. Well not until we leave Sao Luis anyhow. I`ve just changed and showered off the orange and red relics of the journey off.
There is no point in fully recounting the train journey, its just the same as the coaches but smoother and slower. Notable, though, whenever the train stopped you could buy plates of food, fruit, drinks, anything from people out of the window. At the end of the journey two girls took a picture of all three of us. I think it was because we had blue eyes and they maybe hadn`t seen too many foreigners before. We`re back on the gringo trail now though, so I doubt this will be a regular occurence/ego-boost.
Getting off the train we bargained a taxi down to twenty-five reals. He got lost but this worked in our favour as we got a mini-tour of the town, though we had to walk a bit at the end when our favoured hostel was full. Sao Luis is cool. Loads of little reggae venues and bursting bars, some with live music. I thinkg we`ll have a quick look but save ourselves for tomorrow though, its been a long few days.
There is no point in fully recounting the train journey, its just the same as the coaches but smoother and slower. Notable, though, whenever the train stopped you could buy plates of food, fruit, drinks, anything from people out of the window. At the end of the journey two girls took a picture of all three of us. I think it was because we had blue eyes and they maybe hadn`t seen too many foreigners before. We`re back on the gringo trail now though, so I doubt this will be a regular occurence/ego-boost.
Getting off the train we bargained a taxi down to twenty-five reals. He got lost but this worked in our favour as we got a mini-tour of the town, though we had to walk a bit at the end when our favoured hostel was full. Sao Luis is cool. Loads of little reggae venues and bursting bars, some with live music. I thinkg we`ll have a quick look but save ourselves for tomorrow though, its been a long few days.
Bus to Maraba, Day 15
Add another poor nights sleep to the growing total. This time it was hard enough just to get to sleep on the careering coach. One time I was just drifting off, listening to Pavement songs in my head to help. Had got to Greenlander I think when we went over a pothole or something and my head smashed into the ceiling. The rest of the journey tick-tocked away with Renaud holding various half-understandable conversations with different passengers. Finally got off after a round twenty-four hours to the usual collection of silent, interested stares from the locals. I don't think many tourists go the route we have.
In the hight heat of Maraba we got some money, spent a little in an infuriatingly slow internet cafe and tried and failed to call home. Got to the train station (we had been told earlier that a train to Sao Luis left tomorrow morning) and found it was shut for a few hours, as there was not train for a while. Found this quite strange but again this was the first train station we'd actually seen in Brazil, nothing like at home.
Renaud and I walked to a nearby supermarket and back to pick up some food. We actually succeeded in hitching a ride, three rides in fact. Even if they only took us two miles in total its a start. Getting ready to have another free hammock sleep in some trees next to the station. We're enjoying this near vagabondage and I'm almost tempted to try and stay in the hammock for free tomorrow somewhere. In this morning, though, I soubt anything will be as appealing as a bed.
So we're about to embark on the last leg of this mini-adventure. It will have cost me R$155 to travel around 2300km. I wonder where the Spanish girls are and how far Emilia and Joaquim made it after we saw them. I doubt they'll be in Sao Luis for a few days. Hope they're well.
In the hight heat of Maraba we got some money, spent a little in an infuriatingly slow internet cafe and tried and failed to call home. Got to the train station (we had been told earlier that a train to Sao Luis left tomorrow morning) and found it was shut for a few hours, as there was not train for a while. Found this quite strange but again this was the first train station we'd actually seen in Brazil, nothing like at home.
Renaud and I walked to a nearby supermarket and back to pick up some food. We actually succeeded in hitching a ride, three rides in fact. Even if they only took us two miles in total its a start. Getting ready to have another free hammock sleep in some trees next to the station. We're enjoying this near vagabondage and I'm almost tempted to try and stay in the hammock for free tomorrow somewhere. In this morning, though, I soubt anything will be as appealing as a bed.
So we're about to embark on the last leg of this mini-adventure. It will have cost me R$155 to travel around 2300km. I wonder where the Spanish girls are and how far Emilia and Joaquim made it after we saw them. I doubt they'll be in Sao Luis for a few days. Hope they're well.
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Day 14
Pretty cold hammock snooze last night. Woke up properly, after a few other false alarms, before the orange glow sunrise pushed pink and blue through the rest of the sky, at last ending the cold spell. An hour later it was too hot. Saw a pack of wild dogs chasing and starting to savage a smaller, rotund little hound. We're were all too bleary and asleep to really do anything and it was lucky for the little one that a more alert guy smacked the others off with his shoe, I thought he was gone.
The Argentines have left us, getting a couple of spaces in a big truck. I'm still backing us three to get one soon though(just before 9.30 as I write). The worst thing is the feeling we're holding Renaud back. If he was on his own he would probably be in Maraba by now.
Its the evening now, plans have changed a bit. My optimism proved misplaced and at midday we caught a bus to Maraba, where we can get the train. It cost all of our money, R$100. However the distance is over 500 miles and its much cheaper than the options we were looking at in Santarem. So we've sort of failed and succeeded at the same time.
We've been on the coach for seven and a half hours. Only another sixteen and a half to go. We're all enjoying the experience though. Again the kindness of strangers has been demonstrated. A woman with a tiny little cafe has just given us two plates of food to share between three for four reals. The food is the usual beans, rice and salad, but with cow tongue and liver (we think). She is also topping us up with some water for the rest of the trip. Its too bumpy to write on the coach so I'll have to keep this short (Edit, at this point my handwriting descends from a general scrawl into barely formed madness falling all over the page). Saw Joaquim, our Argentine friend - the girl is called Emilia, in a little town out of the window and shouted to him earlier. It was good to see him and also means we might be winning the race to Sao Luis, though we've doubtless spent much more than the others.
Saw anb interesting piece of Brazilian news today. It was live from a bank robbery/hostage situation. Apparently all the news here is as live as possible but it was strange for me and Rob to watch loads of civilians milling around trying to get a better look, cameras and tv helicopted swirling around the tower and only two police cars to deal with the situation, with one policeman doing the classic 'nothing to see here' routine, when there was clearly quite a lot to see. Had to leave before it was resolved unfortunately, wonder what happened.
Funny coincidence happened today. Yesterday Rob had a small girl wih a loud, flashing toy in front of him for five hours. Today we get a five times as long journey with the same girl in the same place with the same toy. This time though we were joined by another four kids to liven things up a bit.
Its now half ten-ish, about fourteen hours to go. Just been told that the train from Maraba to Sao Luis only goes once a week, on Thursday or Friday. Or is sometimes goes twice, I'm not sure. When me and Rob came on this trip we figured that having no plan, no ties, was the best way to meet people and that has been proven true so far. However, knowing a bit more about different customs and nuances would have helped us a lot. But these things don't reall matter. We're hurling through the forest, smashing our way down this well-worn path and enjoying it, we'll get to Sao Luis sometime.
The Argentines have left us, getting a couple of spaces in a big truck. I'm still backing us three to get one soon though(just before 9.30 as I write). The worst thing is the feeling we're holding Renaud back. If he was on his own he would probably be in Maraba by now.
Its the evening now, plans have changed a bit. My optimism proved misplaced and at midday we caught a bus to Maraba, where we can get the train. It cost all of our money, R$100. However the distance is over 500 miles and its much cheaper than the options we were looking at in Santarem. So we've sort of failed and succeeded at the same time.
We've been on the coach for seven and a half hours. Only another sixteen and a half to go. We're all enjoying the experience though. Again the kindness of strangers has been demonstrated. A woman with a tiny little cafe has just given us two plates of food to share between three for four reals. The food is the usual beans, rice and salad, but with cow tongue and liver (we think). She is also topping us up with some water for the rest of the trip. Its too bumpy to write on the coach so I'll have to keep this short (Edit, at this point my handwriting descends from a general scrawl into barely formed madness falling all over the page). Saw Joaquim, our Argentine friend - the girl is called Emilia, in a little town out of the window and shouted to him earlier. It was good to see him and also means we might be winning the race to Sao Luis, though we've doubtless spent much more than the others.
Saw anb interesting piece of Brazilian news today. It was live from a bank robbery/hostage situation. Apparently all the news here is as live as possible but it was strange for me and Rob to watch loads of civilians milling around trying to get a better look, cameras and tv helicopted swirling around the tower and only two police cars to deal with the situation, with one policeman doing the classic 'nothing to see here' routine, when there was clearly quite a lot to see. Had to leave before it was resolved unfortunately, wonder what happened.
Funny coincidence happened today. Yesterday Rob had a small girl wih a loud, flashing toy in front of him for five hours. Today we get a five times as long journey with the same girl in the same place with the same toy. This time though we were joined by another four kids to liven things up a bit.
Its now half ten-ish, about fourteen hours to go. Just been told that the train from Maraba to Sao Luis only goes once a week, on Thursday or Friday. Or is sometimes goes twice, I'm not sure. When me and Rob came on this trip we figured that having no plan, no ties, was the best way to meet people and that has been proven true so far. However, knowing a bit more about different customs and nuances would have helped us a lot. But these things don't reall matter. We're hurling through the forest, smashing our way down this well-worn path and enjoying it, we'll get to Sao Luis sometime.
Santarem - Ruropolis, Day 13
As expected sleeping on a pavement in a dusty petrol station provided another inadequate nights rest. Spent the morning waiting for midday, as we were told we might get a lift at that time (drivers tell you a lot of things like this: here is best for hitching, I'll give you a lift then etc). The mother and daughter who worked in the cafe wanted to see what our English money was like. I gave them a pound and showed them some notes. Then they showed us their collection of quartz, bauxite and other stones that they had just found. I was given a lucky rock of quartz. If it works for the rest of the trip I'll keep it.
The two Spanish girls we were with sorted themselves a lift for part of the journey, and most importantly onto the Trans-Amazonica highway. Seems being female and attractive helps when you're hitching rides. We went to another stop which we were told held better prospects. In the end we waited round in the sun for a few hours with a poorly crafted sign I had made and then took a bus to Ruropolis, where we could join the highway.
At first I thought the conductor had forgotten to make me pay and the stone was working. However he had actually made Rob pay double. Still the stone has time to work its charm. The journey was five hours long but not uncomfortable, this despite most of it being on the worst road I have ever seen. We were treated to an incredible display of skilled driving as the coach lurched over a dirt track laden with ravines, bath-sized potholes, flimsy looking bridges and other traffic. We even overtook a lorry at one point as well, swerving round it and riding the bumps. The setting was thick and full jungle for as far as you could see, fantastic to look at but there was always a nagging feeling that the road itself maybe shouldn't exist. This sensation was reinforced by the large chunks of deforested land. But I don't really understand all the intricacies of this issue and I suppose a country can't be stuck hundreds of years behind the rest of the world.
Now we're in Ruropolis, a dusty little town. We're in another well-reputed hitch-hiking spot, getting ready to have a shower and hang the hammocks. We're making slow progress to Sao Luis, but its cheap progress and hopefully we'll knock another chunk off the journey tomorrow. If we get to Maraba there is a cheap train the rest of the way, but thats still about 1000 km I think. After only one good nights sleep all week, though, I need to get to bed quick.
The two Spanish girls we were with sorted themselves a lift for part of the journey, and most importantly onto the Trans-Amazonica highway. Seems being female and attractive helps when you're hitching rides. We went to another stop which we were told held better prospects. In the end we waited round in the sun for a few hours with a poorly crafted sign I had made and then took a bus to Ruropolis, where we could join the highway.
At first I thought the conductor had forgotten to make me pay and the stone was working. However he had actually made Rob pay double. Still the stone has time to work its charm. The journey was five hours long but not uncomfortable, this despite most of it being on the worst road I have ever seen. We were treated to an incredible display of skilled driving as the coach lurched over a dirt track laden with ravines, bath-sized potholes, flimsy looking bridges and other traffic. We even overtook a lorry at one point as well, swerving round it and riding the bumps. The setting was thick and full jungle for as far as you could see, fantastic to look at but there was always a nagging feeling that the road itself maybe shouldn't exist. This sensation was reinforced by the large chunks of deforested land. But I don't really understand all the intricacies of this issue and I suppose a country can't be stuck hundreds of years behind the rest of the world.
Now we're in Ruropolis, a dusty little town. We're in another well-reputed hitch-hiking spot, getting ready to have a shower and hang the hammocks. We're making slow progress to Sao Luis, but its cheap progress and hopefully we'll knock another chunk off the journey tomorrow. If we get to Maraba there is a cheap train the rest of the way, but thats still about 1000 km I think. After only one good nights sleep all week, though, I need to get to bed quick.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Alto de Chao, Day 12
We were introduced to a wholly different style of travelling today. A style based around spending as little as possible, as well as travelling in a much bigger group. Essentially we have tagged onto Renaud's group (the French guy we became good friends with on the boat). As I write we are starting our attempt to hitch-hike acorss Northern Brazil to Sao Luis - a fair long journey of around 1500 miles.
We started the day with a long walk through Santarem in the stifling morning sun. After a couple of visits to Tourist Informations and a travel agency it became clear that a comfortable passage to Belem or Sao Luis was way out of everybody's price range. Renaud suggested hitch-hiking with trucks but only after visiting the highly reputed beached of Alto de Chao.
Even in the high river season, when a lot of the glorious white sand beaches are submerged, Alto de Chao is a stunning place. Elegant beaches almost purposefully placed to exploit the various alcoves and backdrops that the Amazon jungle offers are dotted around. The water is warm and everywhere you look the view becalms, soaking the sun's constant rays and basking in the luxury of the place. We had planned to stay a few days here but leaving early was no great hardship; companionship is the most crucial thing on this trip.
On the bus home we bade farewell to the five Spanish people who had chosen to fly on. Hopefully we'll see them again. Now we are settling into the slow-moving groove of hitching. I figured it might get tough so bought a cheap bottle of rum, for three reals (just over a pound). First place we went to was wrong, had to get another bus to a sort of depot. Looks like we're going to stay the night here, lucky I bought that rum before.
We started the day with a long walk through Santarem in the stifling morning sun. After a couple of visits to Tourist Informations and a travel agency it became clear that a comfortable passage to Belem or Sao Luis was way out of everybody's price range. Renaud suggested hitch-hiking with trucks but only after visiting the highly reputed beached of Alto de Chao.
Even in the high river season, when a lot of the glorious white sand beaches are submerged, Alto de Chao is a stunning place. Elegant beaches almost purposefully placed to exploit the various alcoves and backdrops that the Amazon jungle offers are dotted around. The water is warm and everywhere you look the view becalms, soaking the sun's constant rays and basking in the luxury of the place. We had planned to stay a few days here but leaving early was no great hardship; companionship is the most crucial thing on this trip.
On the bus home we bade farewell to the five Spanish people who had chosen to fly on. Hopefully we'll see them again. Now we are settling into the slow-moving groove of hitching. I figured it might get tough so bought a cheap bottle of rum, for three reals (just over a pound). First place we went to was wrong, had to get another bus to a sort of depot. Looks like we're going to stay the night here, lucky I bought that rum before.
Day 11
To tired/drunk to write anything I'll do it tomorrow.
(The next day)
Didn't merit much anyway. Here's a brief overview:
- Got up at 6am-ish
- Read, and finished, the Odyssey.
- Was unwillingly plied with more beer by Adawry.
- Played cards, a lot.
- Drank more, but moire willingly.
- Played more cards.
- Went to bed.
After the dizzying heights of the Amazon its hard to be inspired by such a day. Day 12, though, picked us right back up again...
(The next day)
Didn't merit much anyway. Here's a brief overview:
- Got up at 6am-ish
- Read, and finished, the Odyssey.
- Was unwillingly plied with more beer by Adawry.
- Played cards, a lot.
- Drank more, but moire willingly.
- Played more cards.
- Went to bed.
After the dizzying heights of the Amazon its hard to be inspired by such a day. Day 12, though, picked us right back up again...
Boat to Santarem, Day 10
A new day, a new experience/challenge. I was sad to leave Manaus and Antonio, who we saw again today. Stress was added when we were hauled round Manaus buying hammocks, fruit and water at maximum prices to rush to the boat. We ended up getting there only two hours before it left, and four or five is recommended. This meant no real hammock space. For the first ten/twenty minutes I wasn't fully enamoured by the thought of spending two nights here.However, in Brazil you are never alone or stressed for long. We were obvious enough desperate cases to be helped. Firstly we managed to get our hammocks up, cramped and virtually on the ceiling, and annoying the neighbours. Then we set about sorting Rob's bag, on which a zip had broken. All this while an old gent (Renato I think) was watching, and now he started helping us. We didn't manage to fit the zip properly but we felt like we had a friend, again the sense of isolation was allayed.
We moved on to the top deck to get some fresh ait and have a look around. Quickly realised that pretty terrible loud music would be a constant fixture. Almost immediately a fourty or so year old man called 'Adawry' started talking to us. A few hours later we'd shared a load of beer, I'd given my Villa shirt to his son, he'd given me his Flamengo shirt in return, we'd been introduced to his family, learnt as much Portuguese as he could teach us and settled down to spend the early evening with his newly converted Villa son. Managed to see the mixing/meeting of the waters as well. And another rich sunset.
After a bried soupish dinner we carried on knocking back beers. Now we're friends with a different big group of Spanish, Argentine and French students/travellers who are all scratching together their English whilst we embarrassingly fail to speak any foreign language. The worst thing is they all say they need to speak English, really in Brazil they shouldn't. Adawry's son Luca and even his seven year old daughter were both learning, whats wrong with us?
But for now we're bevying on a boat thats cruising through the Amazon with a benign wind cooling everyone. Been given loads of tips for different places by 'Cecilia', one of the Spanish girls. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this more; sure travelling is fluid and malleable - we have virtually no idea what we're doing for the next four or so weeks, but its the friendships and memories that are intransient.
We moved on to the top deck to get some fresh ait and have a look around. Quickly realised that pretty terrible loud music would be a constant fixture. Almost immediately a fourty or so year old man called 'Adawry' started talking to us. A few hours later we'd shared a load of beer, I'd given my Villa shirt to his son, he'd given me his Flamengo shirt in return, we'd been introduced to his family, learnt as much Portuguese as he could teach us and settled down to spend the early evening with his newly converted Villa son. Managed to see the mixing/meeting of the waters as well. And another rich sunset.
After a bried soupish dinner we carried on knocking back beers. Now we're friends with a different big group of Spanish, Argentine and French students/travellers who are all scratching together their English whilst we embarrassingly fail to speak any foreign language. The worst thing is they all say they need to speak English, really in Brazil they shouldn't. Adawry's son Luca and even his seven year old daughter were both learning, whats wrong with us?
But for now we're bevying on a boat thats cruising through the Amazon with a benign wind cooling everyone. Been given loads of tips for different places by 'Cecilia', one of the Spanish girls. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this more; sure travelling is fluid and malleable - we have virtually no idea what we're doing for the next four or so weeks, but its the friendships and memories that are intransient.
Monday, 4 August 2008
Day 9
Day 9, Back to Manaus
Gino was in a typically brisk mood today, skimming round the camp sorting everyone's breakfast out and singing. Leo and Emma were a bit peaky so the four of us finished it off. Slowly dawned on me that this was our last day in the jungle. Had to look around and soak it all up, but I'm sure none of us will ever forget the great times we have had here and the sensation of being in the Amazon rainforest.
And these great times would have been nowhere near as good without the people we were with; the guides, and Phil and Emma. I can't believe we've only known Phil + Emma for four days. From the first moment they went out of their way to accomadate us and, as a couple, didn't seem to mind us being around constantly. They were fantastic all through the tour, from lending me money half an hour after meeting them to Phil going on trips for popcorn on the coach back. I guess they won't read this but every one of their gestures really meant a lot and we'll both miss being with them. I suppose this abrupt way of meeting people is the nature of travelling but I'm sure we'll stay in touch.
The rain fell again on our return trek, less spectacularly than before but steady nonetheless. The rain kept the monkeys away but it was the intricacies of the jungle which interested me most all the way through; the small sounds and movements bouncing off each other in every area. I saw a butterfly at one point that looked like it was made of black wire mesh, the odd gap filled with a yellow or red spot. As it twisted and flipped in the rain I recalled N Hawthorne's perpetually moving butterfly which couldn't have been more beautiful than this one. A few months back I was amazed to read of scientists translating monkey speech and working out what they were saying. Of course the indigenous people here have known how to communicate with them for centuries at least, and Leo and Gino tried to get us a glimpse of one by calling "I'm over here and I'm alone". Any animal that whistles and calls they can imitate.
The return to camp was dampened, both literally by the rain and figuratively by the unavoidable finality of our stay. Still we had a fair few hours to pass and started chatting to the new arrivals over a fittingly delicious lunch, topped by mash potato which the Irish loved. Met two Danish guys who'd been eating in McDonalds in Rio (this saddened me), and one guy frmo NYC who was doing a circle of South America - cool guy, and our hostel owner's family. Before lunch we managed to fit in one last Amazon swim, jumping in off various trees and huts.
In the afternoon we were again shown the artisanship of our hosts, though what they have shown us probably barely scratches the surface of what they are actually capable of. With Leo starting us off we hollowed out bamboo. He then made mouthpieces whilst Gino made some darts, finished into arrows by Leo. Suddenly we had our own blow-pipes. I'm proud of mine even though I did virtually nothing to make it. There was just enough time before we left for me to whip out with Francisco and catch a piranha, finally. Then as we packed Antonio bought us a couple of beers each, one to sip as we clambered onto the big canoe and sped off. The journey was fairly non-descript other then just savouring the river and surroundings for the last time at close quarters, and seeing a tiny nightclub with only a woman and (presumably) her baby inside in a small riverside village.
In wildlife watch today I saw a wild chicked, tiny frogs, loads of butterflies, two vultures, more lizards, massive birds, a giant cricket and a big bold eagle getting beat up by swallows. Also a giant wasp flew past my head, and Antonio tells me they make grown men cry.
Having left I'll try and surmise what was great about the camp and jungle. First Antonio, he is just a brilliant man who's heart is with people and the jungle. I was tempted to ask for another week but I know I'll be back here to see him soon. The people here have a brilliant, and effective, simplicity and affinity with nature that shines through in so many ways; the swift and precise flat-hand slap to deal with any thing that lands on them, imitating all the wild sounds almost intrinsically, silently powering a full canoe and propelling it in whatever direction, whipping fish out of the river at will, weaving a vine into a fire-fan/roof/origami cicada with the hands of a quilter, singing the first words that come to mind in random, linear songs (ok this was just Gino).
There is a prosaic, earthly goodness which runs through everything, and also a clear enjoyment of it all. Why should they leave the jungle to go anywhere else? This assured character comes from the jungle itself. Its variance, its suprises and ragged splendour. As we only saw the tip of their skill, we only ventured into the very start of the Amazon. Now we've left I'm already planning my way back. Brilliant times, beautiful memories.
Gino was in a typically brisk mood today, skimming round the camp sorting everyone's breakfast out and singing. Leo and Emma were a bit peaky so the four of us finished it off. Slowly dawned on me that this was our last day in the jungle. Had to look around and soak it all up, but I'm sure none of us will ever forget the great times we have had here and the sensation of being in the Amazon rainforest.
And these great times would have been nowhere near as good without the people we were with; the guides, and Phil and Emma. I can't believe we've only known Phil + Emma for four days. From the first moment they went out of their way to accomadate us and, as a couple, didn't seem to mind us being around constantly. They were fantastic all through the tour, from lending me money half an hour after meeting them to Phil going on trips for popcorn on the coach back. I guess they won't read this but every one of their gestures really meant a lot and we'll both miss being with them. I suppose this abrupt way of meeting people is the nature of travelling but I'm sure we'll stay in touch.
The rain fell again on our return trek, less spectacularly than before but steady nonetheless. The rain kept the monkeys away but it was the intricacies of the jungle which interested me most all the way through; the small sounds and movements bouncing off each other in every area. I saw a butterfly at one point that looked like it was made of black wire mesh, the odd gap filled with a yellow or red spot. As it twisted and flipped in the rain I recalled N Hawthorne's perpetually moving butterfly which couldn't have been more beautiful than this one. A few months back I was amazed to read of scientists translating monkey speech and working out what they were saying. Of course the indigenous people here have known how to communicate with them for centuries at least, and Leo and Gino tried to get us a glimpse of one by calling "I'm over here and I'm alone". Any animal that whistles and calls they can imitate.
The return to camp was dampened, both literally by the rain and figuratively by the unavoidable finality of our stay. Still we had a fair few hours to pass and started chatting to the new arrivals over a fittingly delicious lunch, topped by mash potato which the Irish loved. Met two Danish guys who'd been eating in McDonalds in Rio (this saddened me), and one guy frmo NYC who was doing a circle of South America - cool guy, and our hostel owner's family. Before lunch we managed to fit in one last Amazon swim, jumping in off various trees and huts.
In the afternoon we were again shown the artisanship of our hosts, though what they have shown us probably barely scratches the surface of what they are actually capable of. With Leo starting us off we hollowed out bamboo. He then made mouthpieces whilst Gino made some darts, finished into arrows by Leo. Suddenly we had our own blow-pipes. I'm proud of mine even though I did virtually nothing to make it. There was just enough time before we left for me to whip out with Francisco and catch a piranha, finally. Then as we packed Antonio bought us a couple of beers each, one to sip as we clambered onto the big canoe and sped off. The journey was fairly non-descript other then just savouring the river and surroundings for the last time at close quarters, and seeing a tiny nightclub with only a woman and (presumably) her baby inside in a small riverside village.
In wildlife watch today I saw a wild chicked, tiny frogs, loads of butterflies, two vultures, more lizards, massive birds, a giant cricket and a big bold eagle getting beat up by swallows. Also a giant wasp flew past my head, and Antonio tells me they make grown men cry.
Having left I'll try and surmise what was great about the camp and jungle. First Antonio, he is just a brilliant man who's heart is with people and the jungle. I was tempted to ask for another week but I know I'll be back here to see him soon. The people here have a brilliant, and effective, simplicity and affinity with nature that shines through in so many ways; the swift and precise flat-hand slap to deal with any thing that lands on them, imitating all the wild sounds almost intrinsically, silently powering a full canoe and propelling it in whatever direction, whipping fish out of the river at will, weaving a vine into a fire-fan/roof/origami cicada with the hands of a quilter, singing the first words that come to mind in random, linear songs (ok this was just Gino).
There is a prosaic, earthly goodness which runs through everything, and also a clear enjoyment of it all. Why should they leave the jungle to go anywhere else? This assured character comes from the jungle itself. Its variance, its suprises and ragged splendour. As we only saw the tip of their skill, we only ventured into the very start of the Amazon. Now we've left I'm already planning my way back. Brilliant times, beautiful memories.
Day 8
Day 8
I forgot to mention before that the guide changed midway through yesterday. Antonio returned to Manaus and now our guide is called 'Leo', with a non-English speaking companion 'Gino'. Like Antonio they are both just happy and friendly, loving the work they are doing and the lives they have here. From speaking to Leo and Antonio you get a real sense of history in the Amazon, the handed down lessons that become second nature to them all.
Another early rise to a to a fresh morning today. Just after breakfast we trekked for a few hours into the jungle to get to a spot to set up camp. Quite quickly it pelted down with rain again but this was quite welcome today, and whatever the weather the jungle just looks and sounds amazing. The trek was hard and long, through sodden terrain and I had the bag. Getting to camp was a welcome respite. The first thing we did was set up some lunch; chicken, rice and veg, all cooked over a fire and eaten off a big leaf with a machete-crafted wooden spoon. It tasted great. Apparently the different woods for the fire help flavour the meat as well.
Next we built our shelter for the night, or rather Leo and Gino did whilst we helped out on the idiot-proof bits. Seeing the way they worked with a machete was like watching an artist with a brush, or Ashley down the wing. They expertly built up a sloped, palm leaf thatched roof and tied up four hammocks underneath. Leo said that they were going to stay up all night and watch out for Pumas.
After lazing around for a bit we all nipped down into an idyllic waterfall and stream for a quick wash, whilst the two guides, incredibly, fashioned a bound step ladder and handrail for future visitors to the camp. This stream may be my favourite part of the entire trip. The gushing water runs down thick, embedded vines, almost like long hay, before plashing and collecting in a small pool, which rests comfortably on a well-formed alcove where a few people can sit. There is another trickling watergall which I used to climb up. The stream then runs through thick and varied trees, flanked by steep banks. The whole scene is partially dyed by a red substance, from the vines through the water and the rocks, and only partially lit through the thick jungle. The red dye is an acidic substance which keeps the mosquitos and leaches away. The whole of the concave and its blotching varied colour looked perfect, the mini-shower was only blighted by the Curse of the Clutterbuck Ear, which has since struck me half deaf.
In the evening we ate some sausages with rice, same spoon but different plates, and all washed down by Amazon water (which is orange but safe to drink, hopefully). We then settled back for the night, accompanied by a typically punitive thunderstorm. It was amazing to lie back in the hammock and look upwards as loud flashes of lightning lit up the entire scene for a split second, the different vines and leaves forming amazing patterns in the sky. Unfortunately Emma is a bit ill, I think its just something she ate. I'm finishing writing this in the morning, looking at the t-shirt I've pretty much destroyed drying on the fire having just woken up from my best nights sleep in a while. The storm and constant jungle noise, this time punctuated by ribbeting frogs, was almost hypnotic, lulling me into a sleep. As I write this the second day of the first test is just starting at Lords, I couldn't be further away. Lucky really as England's below par bowling attack was probably flayed to all parts of the ground (*Edit I was wrong this time, well done Ian Bell, but was only one test match out).
I forgot to mention before that the guide changed midway through yesterday. Antonio returned to Manaus and now our guide is called 'Leo', with a non-English speaking companion 'Gino'. Like Antonio they are both just happy and friendly, loving the work they are doing and the lives they have here. From speaking to Leo and Antonio you get a real sense of history in the Amazon, the handed down lessons that become second nature to them all.
Another early rise to a to a fresh morning today. Just after breakfast we trekked for a few hours into the jungle to get to a spot to set up camp. Quite quickly it pelted down with rain again but this was quite welcome today, and whatever the weather the jungle just looks and sounds amazing. The trek was hard and long, through sodden terrain and I had the bag. Getting to camp was a welcome respite. The first thing we did was set up some lunch; chicken, rice and veg, all cooked over a fire and eaten off a big leaf with a machete-crafted wooden spoon. It tasted great. Apparently the different woods for the fire help flavour the meat as well.
Next we built our shelter for the night, or rather Leo and Gino did whilst we helped out on the idiot-proof bits. Seeing the way they worked with a machete was like watching an artist with a brush, or Ashley down the wing. They expertly built up a sloped, palm leaf thatched roof and tied up four hammocks underneath. Leo said that they were going to stay up all night and watch out for Pumas.
After lazing around for a bit we all nipped down into an idyllic waterfall and stream for a quick wash, whilst the two guides, incredibly, fashioned a bound step ladder and handrail for future visitors to the camp. This stream may be my favourite part of the entire trip. The gushing water runs down thick, embedded vines, almost like long hay, before plashing and collecting in a small pool, which rests comfortably on a well-formed alcove where a few people can sit. There is another trickling watergall which I used to climb up. The stream then runs through thick and varied trees, flanked by steep banks. The whole scene is partially dyed by a red substance, from the vines through the water and the rocks, and only partially lit through the thick jungle. The red dye is an acidic substance which keeps the mosquitos and leaches away. The whole of the concave and its blotching varied colour looked perfect, the mini-shower was only blighted by the Curse of the Clutterbuck Ear, which has since struck me half deaf.
In the evening we ate some sausages with rice, same spoon but different plates, and all washed down by Amazon water (which is orange but safe to drink, hopefully). We then settled back for the night, accompanied by a typically punitive thunderstorm. It was amazing to lie back in the hammock and look upwards as loud flashes of lightning lit up the entire scene for a split second, the different vines and leaves forming amazing patterns in the sky. Unfortunately Emma is a bit ill, I think its just something she ate. I'm finishing writing this in the morning, looking at the t-shirt I've pretty much destroyed drying on the fire having just woken up from my best nights sleep in a while. The storm and constant jungle noise, this time punctuated by ribbeting frogs, was almost hypnotic, lulling me into a sleep. As I write this the second day of the first test is just starting at Lords, I couldn't be further away. Lucky really as England's below par bowling attack was probably flayed to all parts of the ground (*Edit I was wrong this time, well done Ian Bell, but was only one test match out).
Day 7
Day 7
Cold and stuttering nights sleep, but I still felt ok when we got up at dawn, 5 or 6 o'clock. Breakfast was great (fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, potato cakes and coffee), everything here is great.
Straight after we followed Antonio on a fairly epic jungle trek, starting in a light, low, woody area and progressing into the thick high and near impenetrable stuff. Just as we turned to go back, having seen the odd tucan and macaw, a bushmaster snake tried to bit Antonio. Luckily he was wearing thick leather boots (which we were'nt) and managed to flick it away. He was visibly shaken, these things are nasty and it would have been a severe problem had he been incapacitated a distance from the camp. We walked back in a sombre mood, everyone staring at the floor not the treetops and starting to realise the full reality of jungle life.
All in all today I saw: piranhas, 2 kinds of dolphin, a baby alligator, the bushmaster snake, a giant wasp, an iguana, a turtle, a tucan, macaw, loads of eagles and other birds and bugs. We were also shown the trees that provide the world with: vics vapour, chewing gum, deep heat, quinine (used for malaria and abortions in Brazil), candles and one for fresh water. The Amazon is the world's pharmacy and it was fascinating to see the trees which we have as pills, sprays and home comforts.
After lunch we set off fishing again. Again I just fed the piranhas instead of catching them, they're just too quick for me. This is where we saw the dolphins though, and heard some alligators making a weird throaty, gulping sound. The trip was a relaxed one, settled in front of a mellow sunset, until our guide gave Phil the rudder on the way back and he ploughed straight into a tree, dragging our canoe with him and causing a panicked scene as the motor wedged in a few branches.
We were fed again before the night-time alligator search, speeding over moonlit water, flanked by some of the other guides and staff visiting people down the river. It was exciting, just the atmosphere created by the scene, though this time our guide had a mini crash, temporarily ruining the ambience. Leo warned us about the rain on the way, but the clouds seemed miles away. We quickly caught a baby alligator and Leo told us all about them and the caiman, really interesting. Again we got a real sense of the depth of indigenous knowledge here, as we did on the trek earlier. Leo was keen to impress on us how books might claim one thing (alligators live to 50) but the people know different (60-70 years apparently). But as he said "sometimes it is more beautiful to lie than to tell the truth".
Suddenly, though, the big grey cloud looked a lot nearer and it was accompanied by the odd flash of lightnng. It chased us dramatically, as we sped back along the lake, getting closer and closer. At one point I looked back and the whole black mass was almost on top of us, celebrating the achievement with a bright loud clap of lightning. We just made it back to the lodge and then watched the black and grey gloom haul itself over the lake in front of us, low enough to touch, deigning not to burst there but moving on and leaving drenching the camp to its less imperious, equally gloomy follower.
Cold and stuttering nights sleep, but I still felt ok when we got up at dawn, 5 or 6 o'clock. Breakfast was great (fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, potato cakes and coffee), everything here is great.
Straight after we followed Antonio on a fairly epic jungle trek, starting in a light, low, woody area and progressing into the thick high and near impenetrable stuff. Just as we turned to go back, having seen the odd tucan and macaw, a bushmaster snake tried to bit Antonio. Luckily he was wearing thick leather boots (which we were'nt) and managed to flick it away. He was visibly shaken, these things are nasty and it would have been a severe problem had he been incapacitated a distance from the camp. We walked back in a sombre mood, everyone staring at the floor not the treetops and starting to realise the full reality of jungle life.
All in all today I saw: piranhas, 2 kinds of dolphin, a baby alligator, the bushmaster snake, a giant wasp, an iguana, a turtle, a tucan, macaw, loads of eagles and other birds and bugs. We were also shown the trees that provide the world with: vics vapour, chewing gum, deep heat, quinine (used for malaria and abortions in Brazil), candles and one for fresh water. The Amazon is the world's pharmacy and it was fascinating to see the trees which we have as pills, sprays and home comforts.
After lunch we set off fishing again. Again I just fed the piranhas instead of catching them, they're just too quick for me. This is where we saw the dolphins though, and heard some alligators making a weird throaty, gulping sound. The trip was a relaxed one, settled in front of a mellow sunset, until our guide gave Phil the rudder on the way back and he ploughed straight into a tree, dragging our canoe with him and causing a panicked scene as the motor wedged in a few branches.
We were fed again before the night-time alligator search, speeding over moonlit water, flanked by some of the other guides and staff visiting people down the river. It was exciting, just the atmosphere created by the scene, though this time our guide had a mini crash, temporarily ruining the ambience. Leo warned us about the rain on the way, but the clouds seemed miles away. We quickly caught a baby alligator and Leo told us all about them and the caiman, really interesting. Again we got a real sense of the depth of indigenous knowledge here, as we did on the trek earlier. Leo was keen to impress on us how books might claim one thing (alligators live to 50) but the people know different (60-70 years apparently). But as he said "sometimes it is more beautiful to lie than to tell the truth".
Suddenly, though, the big grey cloud looked a lot nearer and it was accompanied by the odd flash of lightnng. It chased us dramatically, as we sped back along the lake, getting closer and closer. At one point I looked back and the whole black mass was almost on top of us, celebrating the achievement with a bright loud clap of lightning. We just made it back to the lodge and then watched the black and grey gloom haul itself over the lake in front of us, low enough to touch, deigning not to burst there but moving on and leaving drenching the camp to its less imperious, equally gloomy follower.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
