Parana

Since last time, we~ve spent one night in Curitiba, which famously has the "best standard of living in Latin America", we found a surprising amount of edge in amongst the futuristic bus stops, well-planned civic green spaces and impressive cleanliness - at times it felt like we were actually in England. But not in a bad way. A bit shocked to see a couple of policemen laying into a group of teens hanging about drinking in the park (seemingly innocently enough, they didn~t look particularly menacing), smashing their bottles, whacking them with truncheons and - amazingly - pointing a gun to one of their heads!! Never seen that before! I guess the police in Curitiba aren~t quite down with the "progressive" policies of the city in general...










Next day we took the train journey to Paranagua, which went through mountain forests and gorges, all amazingly scenic - here~s an idea of it:










And, once the train had broken down and a replacement bus service (aarghh, even more like home!!) finally arrived, from there it was time to peg it to the ferry - only just making it in time- over to Ilha do Mel, which means "Honey Island". Yeesssssss! It transpired that once again our accommodation was a bit incoveniently located, in fact we would have to get a "nautical taxi" to the other, less populated, side of the island - ah, the nautical taxi is a speedboat! First time I~d ever been on one of those. Exciting, if slightly alarming, but I~m getting used to hair-raising public transport in Brazil by now...








After an inauspicious first night when we got caught in a storm as we took a torchlight stroll along the deserted beach, and then got bitten to f**k by mosquitoes overnight, the sun came out next day and as the water was amazingly clear, and a perfect temperature, we went for a few swims - hadn~t been able to swim much in Rio as the water was too filthy in Copacabana and a bit too wild in Ipanema!










There isn~t, to be fair, much else to do on the Ilha do Mel, and much as it fitted the general idea of a tropical paradise island, we couldn~t bear the mosquito bites any more after three nights and headed back to the mainland.

We~ve come back to "give Florianopolis one more chance", as Jonathan Richman once almost sang, though I should also give Paranagua (seen below) an honourable mention for the fantastic time we had there on our way back here - we managed to sample the local speciality, barreado, (meat stew cooked over 24 hours in a clay pot, served with rice, sauce and slices of banana! Better than feijoada, we both reckon. Especially when you~re allowed to go and help yourself to seconds) and encountered probably the friendliest population of our trip so far.



Lots of love to you all, we~ll be at Iguaçu Falls by the next time you hear from us...

Rain in Florianopolis

After a surprisngly agreeable overnight bus trip, we arrived in Florianopolis on a bright and sunny Wednesday morning. We'd heard so many good things about this place from other travellers that we were really sure we wouldn't be disappointed (lesson learned: never be sure you won't be disappointed). After checking into our 'central and well-run' hostal and having a bit of lunch, we were ready to take the island by storm. Unfortunately by this point, a storm had taken over the island (slight exaggeration but there's been lots of rain and lots of grey skies). Now Santa Catarina is an island with over 40 beautiful beaches, all relatively easily accessible... We took the Rough Guide's advice and chose to use the capital, Florianopolis, as our base. So you can imagine our delight at discovering that this city is totally unremarkable, and that Santa Catarina sans beaches is not the most thrilling holiday destination.

We were really struck by how different it is here to in Rio (our only other Brazilian point of reference so far). For a start, it's a LOT less mixed racially. There's been a fair bit of German and Italian immigration so there's a surprising amount of blonde hair and blue eyes going on. From what we've seen, (we've only been here three nights), Santa Catarina also seems really safe and efficient - cars actually stop at a red light. On the other hand, walking around town at night felt strangely eerie because the streets are so quiet, aside from the odd dog-walker. It took me 20 minutes to find somewhere to buy a bottle of beer and a Kinder Bueno, and even that was a petrol station called Star Lube. The forecourt was full of over-dressed teenagers drinking vodka and Redbull... In fact it was a bit like Sidcup highstreet on a Saturday night. Although unlike in Sidcup, the locals seem to be quite well-heeled (and the women are more high-heeled and more high maintenance).

The obvious alternative to exploring the beaches was to go drinking, but we really struggled to find much movida here in the evening. I asked a barman where it was at - 'nas praias' (at the beach). Shame we're a 45-minute bus ride from any beach (although on the plus-side, according to Rough Guide, a 45-minute bus ride from most of the beaches on the island). I knew it was bad when the highlight of my day was a very efficient experience in an internet cafe. God I was miserable...

And then the sun came out! Seriously, it was like that bit in The Wizard Of Oz when Dorothy walks out of the house and her world goes from black and white to colour. After an afternoon spent lazing around a couple of beaches, I realised what all the Floripa-fuss was about. This place definitely makes sense in the sunshine.

We were so happy we looked like this:

Come rain or shine, the hostels we've stayed in haven't failed to provide entertainment either. We've cooked in a couple of times to save some reais (see Mauro whipping up a carbonara... The first time that kitchen had seen fresh parsley methinks) and hung out with the other guests, most of whom are Argentinian (The whole island is teeming with 'em!). At the moment, there's a large contingent of prize-winning Argentine cage-fighters staying, as well as a sweet 80-year-old Brazilian lady who sits in the common room watching telenovelas and hovers around the water fountain.

We're off to Curitiba now for the night - apparently it has the highest standard living in the whole country. Let's hope it has some character too! Then tomorrow morning we're off on 'one of the world's most beautiful train journeys' to Paranagua, although that's according to the Rough Guide so I'm ready to be disappointed...

adeus Rio!

OK, nearly time to head south and wave goodbye to Rio (it's Mauro again this time, by the way, I promise Becka will be back next time!) She's had a few days of being pretty under the weather with a crippling stomach bug - mysteriously, all she could manage to eat in that time was cake! But thankfully she's better now. Personally I reckon the açai (sorbet made from an Amazonian berry) that you can see me consuming in this pic had something to do with her recovery - this stuff is amazing, it can sort anyone out!

There's the odd twinge of regret that we didn't get to do some of the things we'd intended to do, such as revisit our favourite old Copacabana botequim for a goodbye drink, or visit the Sambadrome, but we did manage to catch some live samba action in Lapa at the weekend (great stuff, though not cheap - we had to ration ourselves to one drink while we were in there!). Still amazed at how everyone in the venue seemed to know all the words to all the songs, and managed to dance pretty much on top of each other without anyone getting arsey. A more enthusiastic crowd I have rarely seen. Though strangely, as soon as the final note was played, there was no attempt whatsoever to coax an encore or anything, everyone went their separate ways immediately...

Which, as it turned out, wasn't as easy as all that, as another storm had hit Lapa, and the pavement and road outside the club had disappeared, to be replaced by a river of rank, rubbish-strewn water. The rain showing no signs of abating, we had to join those who removed their footwear and braved sloshing through the filth to try and hail a cab (another mission, but you probably guessed that by now!). My trip to the Vasco da Gama match was another experience, notable for the maniacs and chancers we met outside, one of whom, despite only having one tooth and a face reddened by decades of alcohol abuse, saw fit to slag off my soul patch (muito feo, he reckoned - the nerve!!).

Anyway, it's been an exhilarating couple of weeks here, we'll definitely miss Casa 579 and all the staff here, some of the other guests (such as the particularly entertaining German who kept punctuating all his anecdotes with "Oh my shit!" and referring to Sugar Loaf mountain as "Sugar Head"), though not so much the English girls who never said hello to anyone and just stayed in watching crap romcoms on DVD in the common area. Goodbye to Rio and (an 18-hour coach ride later, more storms are predicted - wish us luck!) hello to Florianopolis tomorrow some time!

oi!

I'm wondering if maybe everyone back home's sick of reading this by now (enduring as they are the worst winter in however many years), but believe me, if we could've sent some of the heat from over here your way, we definitely would've!! For a few days it was ridiculous - up to 43 degrees at one point, which really isn't conducive to doing very much of anything. Going to the Jardim Botanico to hide under 30-metre high palm trees, taking refuge in some air-conditioned museums, or just sitting in our room under a fan, seemed the only sensible options...

The rain finally came last night with a massive electrical storm that knocked out the electricity in the whole street, so we cooked and dined in the dark - we got lucky and got power back that night (apparently it often takes three to four days!), so headed out for a humid and steamy night out at one of our favourite local haunts (seen below).

After the post-storm night out, I managed to get involved in a row with a taxi driver (there's something new for me!) who let us into his cab only to refuse to take us to our address, whining on about how we might lead him into a favela or something, and then feigning ignorance of the area altogether. Didn't really understand what he shouted at me after I'd slammed the door after getting out in disgust, but it didn't seem especially complimentary. To be fair to him, we have also heard what sounds alarmingly like machine-gun fire (in fact, it sounded like an actual gunfight), from around here, although this could be our over-active imaginations. Rio can do that to you.

That said, we're pretty sure it wasn't our imagination the other night, when a friendly barman started steering the conversation towards how long we'd been going out together, whether we were married, and so on... Then explaining about clubs that couples in relationships can go to (all the while making frequent references to his teenage wife and how attractive she was) for aventura, and how in Brazil things were diferente. Our minds boggling, we told him it was too much aventura for us, and politely declined. I thought this kind of thing was the preserve of bored fortysomethings in Croydon, not (fairly handsome, it has to be said) carioca barmen in their twenties! Did I mention that he also informed us that his wife had had a baby two months previously? Did they not have other things on their mind at the moment?!

Oh yeah, we were going to explain about the local kombis! You grow to love them around Santa Teresa. Basically, they're white VW minivans, which are cheap and can pick you up and drop you off wherever you like, but the door may fly open, you may have to sit on a local's lap, and you may even have to stand up. Seriously, whoever thought up the concept of health and safety was definitely not a Brazilian. The bonde (local tram) which flies over the Lapa arches while various maniacs hang off the sides, sometimes actually performing stunts or hanging upside down, was another experience - they definitely would've been banned in Britain many years ago.

I've decided that Vasco da Gama are the team I'll be supporting in Brazil (for various reasons, I can bore anyone who really wants to know separately as to why) and am endeavouring to catch them in action tomorrow at their home stadium - sadly, no matches are on at the Maracana while we're here. Anyway, their website gave an address to buy tickets, quite local to here, so we wandered over and found the address to be the stadium for Fluminense (local rivals)!! Some kind of practical joke?? I swallowed hard and asked them if they were, by any chance, selling tickets for the Vasco match this weekend (imagine trying to buy tickets to a Spurs match at the Emirates)... naturally enough, they weren't. Oh well, try my luck tomorrow I guess!

PS For any of our work colleagues reading, I can report that TV subtitles are alive and well over here (even live ones). They're frequently on when the TVs are on in the bars, and they seem fairly good as well (though with my sketchy Portuguese, that's probably a bit of a bold claim)...

Rio (Santa Teresa)

We`re now staying in Santa Teresa, up into the hills and away from the beaches and bustle of Copacabana and Ipanema. The heat also seems to be slightly less intense up here. We`ve been hearing that Santa Teresa is the coolest place in Rio (though Mauro thinks that may just literally refer to the temperature). The hostel here is absolutely beautiful - it`s at the top of a hill, with amazing views of Christ the Redeemer and the twinkling lights of the city below. The downside to this is that these lights are a bit too far away, which makes getting almost anywhere pretty inconvenient. Santa Teresa is supposedly the bohemian part of town where artists and intellectuals live. It`s a world away from Copacabana, but we like it just as much. There`s a rickety tram (the oldest in South America, I think) that hurtles through the cobbled streets, and lots of samba blaring out, artists selling their wares on the streets and, crucially, great bars where lots of locals hang out.

On Saturday we headed to nearby Lapa, which is THE place to go out in Rio. It`s hard to explain how crazy and full-on the nightlife is here - neither Mauro or I have ever seen anything like it. There`s bars and clubs everywhere, with people pouring out onto the street, and live music pouring out into the street after them. Then there are stalls selling street food and drinks, and yet more people sat around on steps, grass - anywhere - drinking. Guys walk around with a tequila-kit on a tray, ready to sell you a shot if you`re flagging a bit. Mauro and I got a bit excited about the caipirinhas and have since agreed to limit ourselves next time. It felt being at a festival, but it`s just a night out in Lapa. And the strange thing is, no-one seemed to be totally wasted. Not a sign of vomit anywhere. Can you imagine this working anywhere in the UK?!

The portions of food here are enormous, so this is helping us manage our daily budget nicely. Whatever we order, we know we will take at least half of it home, de viagem, which sorts us out for a meal the next day. Everything so far in Brazil seems to be really exciting, intense, yet slightly daunting, and the food is no different. In the last few days, we`ve tried some Bahian food and some feijoada. Both delicious. We`re slowly getting to grips with the farofa - toasted manioc flour (cassava? me neither...) that Brazilians sprinkle on almost everything. Mauro got carried away with the hot, hot, hot Bahian pepper sauce and the farofa... Here he is laughing as I called him a manioc maniac.

He won`t be laughing for long if he insists on doing the `OK` sign (thumb and forefinger in a circle) to everyone. We`re not quite sure what it means in Brazil, but we know it`s highly offensive.

Oh, and we got the cable car up to Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf mountain)! We timed it perfectly and hit sunset on the way up and came down after nightfall. It was spectacular, even if the hordes of tourists vying for the best photo opp marred the magical views slightly.

I`m so glad we`ve got a couple of weeks here in Rio, so we don`t have to rush around to make the most of everything. The heat and humidity really takes it out of you - Rio is definitely a place to take it easy (except maybe in Lapa. And Carnaval). OK, time to head out now and brave the local kombis (VW minivans which operate as buses - but that's another story for next time...)!

Rio (Copacabana)

Well, the actual business of getting from Santiago to Rio de Janeiro proved eventful enough - at Santiago airport we were offered the tidy sum of $200 EACH to take a later flight instead, doubtless because the airline had overbooked the seats, and were scrambling around desperately to sort out their mess. This seemed like a good idea to us, until we were told the later flight was in fact 12 hours later (not the original 4 hours), and got to Rio after midnight! So we changed our minds back, only to be told it was too late - cue lots of arguing with airline staff, and, thankfully, eventually getting our way... We´ll just have to do without the extra cash!

It´s summer in Rio, which means temperatures between 30-35 degrees at the moment, constant sweating, several showers a day etc (apologies to those back home in Britain, shivering and probably cursing us!). In contrast to Chile and Argentina, I can´t even imagine wanting to drink red wine over here - only ice-cold Antartica beers, coconut water, and LOTS of the incredibly exciting fruit juices that are sold at stalls all over. Passion fruit juice, melon juice, fruit-you´ve never-heard-of-or-seen-before juice... All delicious! Convinced Becka to try some comida mineira with me on the first night - she seemed wary of the tutu and couve, and other unknown quantities, but it proved delicious.

In fact, Rio is a massive contrast to Chile in general. Brazil´s incredibly rich racial diversity in particular stands out - it seems to have created a ludicrously high concentration of highly attractive people (even the shop window dummies have conspicuous curves and much larger bums!). Though before anyone could get too carried away with ideas of racial utopia, an incident in the supermarket yesterday would bring you back down to earth - a black man who´d been accused of stealing and was yelling at the security and the customers, claiming to have been accused on the basis of his skin colour alone.

At the moment we´re staying in Copacabana, which we´re enjoying very much - full of locals just going about their business, not too fancy or geared towards tourists. (Oh, if you´re wondering why there aren´t more photos with this entry, it´s mainly because we´ve been in such a state of paranoia about getting stuff nicked that the camera has been mostly under lock and key back in the hostel!) As it is, the area is apparently much safer than it has been for a while - there are favelas visible from the hostel - though this seems to be mainly due to the heavy presence of police with machine guns...

Schlepped over to the British Embassy (to register our passports, in case of any future problems) over in Flamengo, which closed at 12.30pm, though for some reason I´d lost the plot and decided the address was no.94 rather than no.284... Of course we dashed PAST no.284 just before closing time, only to arrive at no.94 panting and wheezing and find no such Embassy. (Brilliantly enough, the security guard told us we´d be better off going to the beach for the afternoon instead) When we DID get to the Embassy the next day, they told us to register online instead. AARGHH!!

Have been enjoying the local botequims for drinking (basically, a bar in as much as it serves alcohol and food, but often only consisting of a couple of plastic tables and chairs outside, for a handful of punters). We did actually take the bus (a hair-raising experience in itself - it´s no lie that the bus drivers here are living out Formula One fantasies!) over to Leblon last night to check out the nightlife, only to decide that it really wasn´t us and take the bus straight back! Seemed like a bit of a rich kids´playground really...

The hostel (Newton´s Rooftop) is pretty, well, characterful and laid-back, if at times downright hazardous. We´re moving across town to Santa Teresa tomorrow, which is probably a good thing as anyone who stays at Newton´s more than a few days seems to end up working here!

Chile (a few impressions)...

Stray dogs
A LOT of them over here (though happily, much less actual dogshit than in Buenos Aires!). Seriously, they´re everywhere. It seems this is a problem that cannot be solved without mass sterilisation, which is unlikely to ever get off the ground. The ones that AREN´T strays, strangely, seem the noisiest - there are a couple of particularly appalling yappy shits near my uncle Ricky´s. Dunno what their problem is but as guard dogs I doubt they´d be much use, as they make a racket at pretty much any passer-by, car, bird, whatever...

Change
Nothing like the problems you get in Argentina. The actual money is far cleaner and nicer as well - none of the really skanky peso bills that we did our best to get rid of as quickly as possible over there. In fact, one 5,000 peso note we got was SO NICE that (laugh, you may as well) I managed to avoid spending it for the entire period of our stay here...

Receipts
On the other hand, Jesus Christ, do we really need a receipt for absolutely EVERYTHING?? My pockets are overflowing with em! Even when Becka used the loo at Concepción bus station, she got a receipt for that. And the system of having to queue up and pay at a separate cashier instead of the person who takes your actual ice-cream/beer/sandwich order doesn´t seem like the most efficient or user-friendly. The most infuriating, perhaps. Still, I guess it gives more people jobs...?!

The food
Actually, on the whole, better than in Argentina, we both thought. Certainly more varied. You can get yourself a better sandwich (avocado, tomato and runner beans make a fine addition to the slices of beef or chicken), much better seafood, a nutritious cazuela (stew, often featuring chicken, pumpkin, potato, rice, a small corn on the cob and plenty of coriander) on most menus, and better empanadas also. Sure, the steaks aren´t up to the same standard but there´s not that much in it... (Becka prefers the Argentine dulce de leche to our manjar, tho)

Public transport
Very modern, clean and efficient metro (not one delay at any point), with several very arty stations. Unfortunate that the metro is so rammed at pretty much all times that the people travelling on it have become fairly selfish, and often will blatantly disregard an older person who really should be offered a seat in order to plonk their arses down and then ignore all the cold, hard stares (mainly mine). They play music videos at most stations as well, but for some reason they only seem to ever be by Alicia Keys.

Rock
I think Chileans are even bigger rock fans than Argentines, judging from the T-shirts you see every day. They also seem to be more heavily into reggaeton as well, but I´ll gloss over that one...

Football
Not on the telly as much as in Argentina. Also far less national team shirts worn about the place (even though we arguably have more to shout about at the moment). Confusingly, Cristal beer seem to sponsor pretty much every team in the top flight, so it´s hard to tell who´s wearing which team´s shirt. Seems to be fairly rabid Colo Colo support around my uncle Ricky´s area - including the charming graffiti "traigan madres que balas sobran" ("bring Universidad de Chile fans, we have plenty of bullets") emblazoned down the high street...

Language
Famously the least comprehensible Spanish speakers in the entire Hispanic world, anyone who´s studied Spanish to any level would need a while here to decipher people in the street saying the likes of "cachaste el paco culiaaao, hueón". Becka chastised me when I started talking like this to my cousins after a few jars, deeming it "lazy". She has a point to be honest, though much as it can be impenetrable, I´d say it´s still possibly the most inventive - and witty - of all the Spanish "dialects"...

"Los Venegas"
Much to my horror, this programme (which apparently has been going for 20 years or something) came on when I was contentedly chomping away on a chacarero in Pucón - it seems my family´s name is being taken in vain somewhat, as the cast all seem to be buffoonish arsewits of the highest order...! The rest of the restaurant chortled away merrily enough as I fumed.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJteCDIbtWk&feature=related


Obesity
I was slightly alarmed at the amount of clearly overweight kids I saw, that seemed much more noticeable than in Argentina. One kid on the tube relentlessly stuffing his face with chips was particularly alarming. I do hope this is something that they start taking seriously soon! I also get the impression Chileans are far bigger boozers than their neighbours, probably due to the fact that the Argentines are naturally more outgoing and gregarious than us (we tend to have a more reserved temperament, more like the English even!) so need far less alcohol to get the party started and lose their inhibitions...

Anyway, that´s just a few impressions for now - must say by the end of this stay here that I´ve got far more fond of Santiago again, and will both miss my ever-accommodating and welcoming extended family, and look forward to my next visit. Which won´t be too far away! Next stop, Rio...!

Feliz año nuevo!

I don´t think I could have had a better start to the new decade. Whilst Christmas definitely feels less festive when it´s hot and sunny, the summertime really suits New Year´s Day (probably my least favourite day of the year back home). The start of the year feels positive and sunny and green and full of birdsong and blossoming promise. OK, it´s easy to say that when you´re on an epic holiday but still. We´ve spent the day at Mauro´s cousin´s house, or to be more precise, in her garden; swimming in their pool and eating seafood and an asado (BBQ-style).


Last night, we saw the new year in with another family meal in the garden and stuffed ourselves full of locos (similar to abalone), king crab (definitely the king of all crabs), salmon and trout. We even had ´merquén ´pasta (´merquén´is a smoked red chilli mix produced by Mapuches, apparently). I´ve been trying to rein in the foodfest talk but we´ve eaten really well in Chile, it has to be said. This country´s got a lot of coastline going on, so the seafood is really varied. Also, Los Venegas really know how to cook; I can see where Mauro gets it from.



We´ve kept ourselves busy with a few daytrips in the last few days. One good thing about Santiago is it´s easy to get out of (a bit like Lewisham). Mauro´s uncle Ricky took us to a lovely French restaurant in the Cajón de Maipo, a valley near the mountains about an hour out of the city. Here we are enjoying the view.













Then we took a trip with the other side of Mauro´s family to Pomaire, a tiny pueblo famous for its terracotta craftmanship and enormous empanadas. I don´t really see the charm in a one-kilo empanada but we all shared one anyway. The day after we headed off to the coast, to Valparaíso. Initially we were planning on spending new year´s eve here. It´s the place to be - spectacular fireworks and thousands of people. A bit like new year´s eve everywhere really. In the end we decided not to go. Mauro´s not that into fireworks and I´m not a fan of huge crowds, plus all accommodation and buses were fully booked a while back. I don´t know why we considered it at all actually, ja ja. So we went the day before instead, which was a much better idea. No crowds and no fireworks.



We´d been to Valpo before in 2007 and loved it - it´s one of those cities you can keep discovering. It´s beautiful and charming, if a bit run-down and rough around the edges. It definitely doesn´t have the slightly artificially tinge of the likes of Pucon and Bariloche. This time we got to visit one of Neruda´s houses too, La Sebastiana, which was fantastic - one of the highlights of our trip so far. Perched on top of one of the cerros (hills), it had views of the entire bay. Neruda himself said the sea was "was so big, unruly and blue that it fitted nowhere. That's why they left it in front of my window”.

So just two days remain in Chile Part 1, before we head to Rio. Two days for Barclays to get their act together and send me a replacement card and two days for Mauro to make the most of his family. But Chile Part 2 is only a few months (and three countries) away so it´s "hasta luego" and not "adios". Meanwhile, it´s now time for some dulce de leche action (or ´manjar´as the Chilean calls it...mmmm). Hasta luego and a heartfelt "happy new year!" to all our friends and family.