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.