Tuesday 23 February
Quito
I like Quito, from first impressions. I’ve noticed a bit more of an influence of America here. Argentina and Chile are like Europe. Salvador feels like Africa. Rio has it’s mountains and beaches. And Quito puts the America into South America. In a good way mind. It’s not just the dollars, it’s the SUVs, the buildings, the large variety of shops where you can buy anything you want. There are hardware shops (amusingly called Ferreteria in Spanish), corner shops, car dealerships, westernised restaurants, banks ... I don’t know, it just feels a bit like America to me.
I book my trip to the Galapagos. Six days of island hopping. Sounds like it will be good. Although I don’t have a headache any more I still feel a bit spaced so take it easy for most of the day and don’t really do much. I surf the web a lot. That’s easy to do.
I eat a huge pizza for lunch and I’m quite proud that I manage to finish it. Though as a result I don’t get hungry again. And I get a big dose of heartburn later in the evening. But I manage to find a couple of places selling yogurt and after two of those I’m fine.
Rock and roll, baby.
Wednesday 24 February 2010
We Accept American Dollars
Monday 22 February
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil – Lima, Peru – Quito, Ecuador
I wake up at 4 and get my taxi to the airport. I’ve got two flights, the first to Lima and then to Quito after an hour’s wait. I’m flying with TACA which I’ve never heard of before but have since found out that it’s Latin America’s best airline, and the service is pretty good too. Also Lima airport is pretty good – despite it being situated in the middle of an industrial wasteland and favelas – as is Quito, although signs in the airport say that it’s being rebuilt over the next year or so.
When I get to Quito the hostel said they would have a driver waiting for me, but there’s no one there. Though a process of confusing discussion the guy in the tourist information booth calls the hostel and eventually I find out that he’s running late, and it all ends up fine.
What’s the Ecuadorean currency? US Dollars. I had no idea until I withdrew them from a cash machine. Some countries use dollars as a black market or second currency. Here it’s the 51st state. Craziness.
The hostel is really nice, in fact it’s essentially a hotel. It’s nice to have a bit of comfort after some of the random places I’ve stayed. Also even though Quito is pretty much on the equator, the temperature is around 22 degrees. So it’s trouser time again. And the reason it’s cold is that it’s slap bang in the middle of the Andes, and a fraction short of 3000 metres high. The scenery as we came into land was outstanding.
Oh yeah. Altitude.
Commercial plane air pressure is equivalent to around 2500 metres. This is higher. And boy, do I get a headache from it while adjusting. I feel pretty tired anyway from the early start, but now I get the added bonus of a headache. Thankfully the hostel is so cosy and nice I find myself gratefully going to bed not long after 9.
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil – Lima, Peru – Quito, Ecuador
I wake up at 4 and get my taxi to the airport. I’ve got two flights, the first to Lima and then to Quito after an hour’s wait. I’m flying with TACA which I’ve never heard of before but have since found out that it’s Latin America’s best airline, and the service is pretty good too. Also Lima airport is pretty good – despite it being situated in the middle of an industrial wasteland and favelas – as is Quito, although signs in the airport say that it’s being rebuilt over the next year or so.
When I get to Quito the hostel said they would have a driver waiting for me, but there’s no one there. Though a process of confusing discussion the guy in the tourist information booth calls the hostel and eventually I find out that he’s running late, and it all ends up fine.
What’s the Ecuadorean currency? US Dollars. I had no idea until I withdrew them from a cash machine. Some countries use dollars as a black market or second currency. Here it’s the 51st state. Craziness.
The hostel is really nice, in fact it’s essentially a hotel. It’s nice to have a bit of comfort after some of the random places I’ve stayed. Also even though Quito is pretty much on the equator, the temperature is around 22 degrees. So it’s trouser time again. And the reason it’s cold is that it’s slap bang in the middle of the Andes, and a fraction short of 3000 metres high. The scenery as we came into land was outstanding.
Oh yeah. Altitude.
Commercial plane air pressure is equivalent to around 2500 metres. This is higher. And boy, do I get a headache from it while adjusting. I feel pretty tired anyway from the early start, but now I get the added bonus of a headache. Thankfully the hostel is so cosy and nice I find myself gratefully going to bed not long after 9.
On the Beach
Sunday 21 February
Rio de Janeiro
I meet up with Ana, the Brazilian girl in the morning and she drives us to the beach. We go to Leblon as it’s a bit better than Copacabana and Ipanema. And so I proceed to spend this Sunday in the company of a carioca and behave much like one myself. It’s all about the beach.
The deal is you get a parasol, rent a couple of chairs, and sit there chilling out for the day. There are hawkers passing regularly that sell you drinks and snacks. When you get hot you jump into the water for a bit. It’s not as cold as before thankfully, but still not warm. Then you use the beach shower and return to you chairs.
The main beach snack for cariocas is something called Globo. It’s basically a very aerated piece of fried dough in a small doughnut ring. You can get sweet or savoury flavours. It’s not particularly filling and not particularly healthy, but when in Riome... I also have something which is like an Arabic version of a scotch egg, but with veggies inside where the egg would be.
In the late afternoon we pop by the main lake in Rio – Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas – just in time for sunset and take some nice pictures with Ana’s camera phone. After that I pop back to the hostel to get my stuff as I’m staying at hers tonight. Of course the main reason to do this is because I don’t have an alarm and I have to catch a taxi at 4 to get me to the airport for my flight to Quito. I was actually worried how I would do it on my own!
So we shower and go out for dinner and then that’s all you need to know.
Rio de Janeiro
I meet up with Ana, the Brazilian girl in the morning and she drives us to the beach. We go to Leblon as it’s a bit better than Copacabana and Ipanema. And so I proceed to spend this Sunday in the company of a carioca and behave much like one myself. It’s all about the beach.
The deal is you get a parasol, rent a couple of chairs, and sit there chilling out for the day. There are hawkers passing regularly that sell you drinks and snacks. When you get hot you jump into the water for a bit. It’s not as cold as before thankfully, but still not warm. Then you use the beach shower and return to you chairs.
The main beach snack for cariocas is something called Globo. It’s basically a very aerated piece of fried dough in a small doughnut ring. You can get sweet or savoury flavours. It’s not particularly filling and not particularly healthy, but when in Riome... I also have something which is like an Arabic version of a scotch egg, but with veggies inside where the egg would be.
In the late afternoon we pop by the main lake in Rio – Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas – just in time for sunset and take some nice pictures with Ana’s camera phone. After that I pop back to the hostel to get my stuff as I’m staying at hers tonight. Of course the main reason to do this is because I don’t have an alarm and I have to catch a taxi at 4 to get me to the airport for my flight to Quito. I was actually worried how I would do it on my own!
So we shower and go out for dinner and then that’s all you need to know.
Gotta Get a Message to You
Saturday 20 February
Recreio dos Bandeirantes – Rio de Janiero
There’s really only three things I want from a hostel. One is a room of my own – I’m pretty much over dorms after three weeks of them in Argentina. Not to say I won’t do them again but for now that’s it. The second is 24 hour air conditioning. Not too much to ask surely? Well apparently. What’s even worse are the places that have air conditioning but only turn it on at night. Well what the hell are you supposed to do during the day then? Newsflash people, it’s hotter during the day.
And the final thing I want is wifi in my room. Because I’m a lazy bastard and don’t want to go outside. Well I booked myself into a hostel in Rio that on the face of it had all these things. Except they didn’t. The air con only worked at night. And the wifi only worked in the bar, and that was shut during the day. However there was one small corner of the pool room where you could still access it. But there was no air con and not even any fan covering that area. So that was a bit shit. I did have my own room though.
I spent the day doing some bits and pieces like laundry. I try to meet up with one of the Brazilian girls that we met in the sports bar the other night, but the line is really bad on my end and I can’t arrange anything. I have to resort to email.
In the evening I hang out at the hostel. I meet a group of Brits and Aussies in the bar and hang out with them. The hostel also has a barbeque on so we all get on that and it’s very tasty and wholesome, which is great. The rest of the evening is spent in the bar and for once there’s no girl action. But it’s OK. As I check my email before I go to bed, I find out that the Brazilian girl has invited me round to her apartment for 11 a.m. tomorrow.
Recreio dos Bandeirantes – Rio de Janiero
There’s really only three things I want from a hostel. One is a room of my own – I’m pretty much over dorms after three weeks of them in Argentina. Not to say I won’t do them again but for now that’s it. The second is 24 hour air conditioning. Not too much to ask surely? Well apparently. What’s even worse are the places that have air conditioning but only turn it on at night. Well what the hell are you supposed to do during the day then? Newsflash people, it’s hotter during the day.
And the final thing I want is wifi in my room. Because I’m a lazy bastard and don’t want to go outside. Well I booked myself into a hostel in Rio that on the face of it had all these things. Except they didn’t. The air con only worked at night. And the wifi only worked in the bar, and that was shut during the day. However there was one small corner of the pool room where you could still access it. But there was no air con and not even any fan covering that area. So that was a bit shit. I did have my own room though.
I spent the day doing some bits and pieces like laundry. I try to meet up with one of the Brazilian girls that we met in the sports bar the other night, but the line is really bad on my end and I can’t arrange anything. I have to resort to email.
In the evening I hang out at the hostel. I meet a group of Brits and Aussies in the bar and hang out with them. The hostel also has a barbeque on so we all get on that and it’s very tasty and wholesome, which is great. The rest of the evening is spent in the bar and for once there’s no girl action. But it’s OK. As I check my email before I go to bed, I find out that the Brazilian girl has invited me round to her apartment for 11 a.m. tomorrow.
It Took Me Years to Write, Will You Take a Look?
Friday 19 February
Recreio dos Bandeirantes
A day of relaxing. I wrote a lot of blog posts, basically covering the whole of the carnaval period. I slept a lot. Chilled out in my apartment. Had a walk along the beach and took some pics. Although it wasn’t sunny there was some nicely atmospheric clouds around.
As ever it was hot as hell. I went to the local mall about 10 minutes walk inland towards town proper. Unfortunately what air con they had there wasn’t particularly effective. I had a salad for lunch which is always a bit risky but it wasn’t too bad. However the ordering process was painful. Luckily I pretty much got what I wanted.
In the evening I hung out at the hostel for a bit but there wasn’t much going on. Just maxing and relaxing really.
Recreio dos Bandeirantes
A day of relaxing. I wrote a lot of blog posts, basically covering the whole of the carnaval period. I slept a lot. Chilled out in my apartment. Had a walk along the beach and took some pics. Although it wasn’t sunny there was some nicely atmospheric clouds around.
As ever it was hot as hell. I went to the local mall about 10 minutes walk inland towards town proper. Unfortunately what air con they had there wasn’t particularly effective. I had a salad for lunch which is always a bit risky but it wasn’t too bad. However the ordering process was painful. Luckily I pretty much got what I wanted.
In the evening I hung out at the hostel for a bit but there wasn’t much going on. Just maxing and relaxing really.
Friday 19 February 2010
The Road to Nowhere
Thursday 18 Februrary
Rio de Janeiro – Recreio dos Bandeirantes
I made a mistake. I booked a hostel for today so I could spend an extra couple of days in Rio planning my next trip. Which, incidentally, I’ve decided is going to be Ecuador and the Galapagos. It’s cheaper to get there than Bolivia, strangely. So anyway I booked a hostel in what I thought was Rio, near a beach, that had wifi and looked pretty relaxed. It was a kind of surf place, not that I wanted to surf but that would help with it being chilled out.
So I got in the taxi and we set off ... and we went further ... and further ... and further. I don’t know how long it took as I fell asleep, but it must have been easily over an hour. And where did I end up? Well, a little shanty town next to a beach that had big breaking waves. The actual hostel was booked out so they put me in an apartment of my own round the corner, which was nice.
So despite not being in Rio I was in a nice chilled out place where I could relax and sleep off the excesses of carnaval in the privacy of my own apartment. Although the apartment didn’t have wifi so I had to go to the hostel to sort that out. And it was raining, but that wasn’t too much of a problem, I needed to be indoors anyway.
So I booked up a couple of nights back in Rio, flights to Quito and the hostel in Quito, and generally relaxed. Had a nice pizza for dinner, a couple of beers, and then went to bed early, only to be bitten by some really painful mosquitoes – before I put up the net. Luckily the pain only lasted for a short while.
Rio de Janeiro – Recreio dos Bandeirantes
I made a mistake. I booked a hostel for today so I could spend an extra couple of days in Rio planning my next trip. Which, incidentally, I’ve decided is going to be Ecuador and the Galapagos. It’s cheaper to get there than Bolivia, strangely. So anyway I booked a hostel in what I thought was Rio, near a beach, that had wifi and looked pretty relaxed. It was a kind of surf place, not that I wanted to surf but that would help with it being chilled out.
So I got in the taxi and we set off ... and we went further ... and further ... and further. I don’t know how long it took as I fell asleep, but it must have been easily over an hour. And where did I end up? Well, a little shanty town next to a beach that had big breaking waves. The actual hostel was booked out so they put me in an apartment of my own round the corner, which was nice.
So despite not being in Rio I was in a nice chilled out place where I could relax and sleep off the excesses of carnaval in the privacy of my own apartment. Although the apartment didn’t have wifi so I had to go to the hostel to sort that out. And it was raining, but that wasn’t too much of a problem, I needed to be indoors anyway.
So I booked up a couple of nights back in Rio, flights to Quito and the hostel in Quito, and generally relaxed. Had a nice pizza for dinner, a couple of beers, and then went to bed early, only to be bitten by some really painful mosquitoes – before I put up the net. Luckily the pain only lasted for a short while.
A Simple Prop, to Occupy My Time
Wednesday 17 February
Rio de Janiero
We changed hotel, today. The new one is crap. I find out later from Trip Advisor that everyone else thinks it’s crap as well. I make sure to add a review to enforce this reputation.
In the evening two carioca (i.e. from Rio) football teams are playing – Flamengo and Botofega. Disappointingly, Flamengo don’t play in pink. Alain and Ryan want to go to the match but we can’t find any tickets, and it’s probably better for us as we have a great night in the sports bar that we find.
As well as the match there is an excellent covers band playing classic rock songs including Black Magic Woman, Jumping Jack Flash, Black by Pearl Jam and The One I Love. At one point Alain gets talking to some Brazilian girls nearby who are friendly for once, and we all start chatting. I do a Mick Jagger impression totally nicked from Alan Davies that goes down well. And much fun is had by all.
It says a lot about what was meant to be an early night, that we get to bed at about 3.30. And Alain a bit later.
Rio de Janiero
We changed hotel, today. The new one is crap. I find out later from Trip Advisor that everyone else thinks it’s crap as well. I make sure to add a review to enforce this reputation.
In the evening two carioca (i.e. from Rio) football teams are playing – Flamengo and Botofega. Disappointingly, Flamengo don’t play in pink. Alain and Ryan want to go to the match but we can’t find any tickets, and it’s probably better for us as we have a great night in the sports bar that we find.
As well as the match there is an excellent covers band playing classic rock songs including Black Magic Woman, Jumping Jack Flash, Black by Pearl Jam and The One I Love. At one point Alain gets talking to some Brazilian girls nearby who are friendly for once, and we all start chatting. I do a Mick Jagger impression totally nicked from Alan Davies that goes down well. And much fun is had by all.
It says a lot about what was meant to be an early night, that we get to bed at about 3.30. And Alain a bit later.
Put on Your Dancing Shoes, You Saucy Little Swine
Tuesday 16 February – Fat Tuesday – Shrove Tuesday – Mardi Gras
Rio de Janeiro
It’s hot. Well it’s always hot in these parts but it’s hot today. We go to the beach. Well it’s only one block away. Copacabana is a long beach, but very busy, much like a popular Mediterranean beach. And it’s also wide, which means that when you have to walk across it to the sea, the chances are your shoes will melt and your feet will burn.
So it comes as a bit of a big surprise, then, to discover that the water is icy cold. I mean, it’s literally freezing. My guess is that it comes straight from the Antarctic. That presumably can be the only reason as other places on this latitude – the Tropic of Capricorn – don’t have water this cold. But at least it is a refreshing contrast to the air temperature.
In the evening we resolve to check out Ipanema as we hear it’s more happening than Copacabana. Well one thing’s for sure, it’s more gay! Enough to make your eyes water. Luckily we find an Irish pub where they’re showing Champions League football to redress the balance. Funnily, the Portuguese pronunciation of Wayne Rooney sounds like Waynie Rooney.
We have some drink and food and find out from a rather overbearing Irish guy that there is a really good club in town. It’s in Marina del Gloria, and it truly is a marina of glory. Clearly in the rich part of town it’s a glorified marquee by the marina, which is full of expensive yachts and motorboats.
Armin van Buuren is playing. He’s a top Dutch trance DJ and is awesome. We dance like idiots and have big grins on our faces, despite only drinking alcohol. The girls are hot but totally not interested. Though I do talk to a few and find out that this night is put on for those that don’t like samba. For Mardi Gras, Rio knows how to put on a good alternative.
Rio de Janeiro
It’s hot. Well it’s always hot in these parts but it’s hot today. We go to the beach. Well it’s only one block away. Copacabana is a long beach, but very busy, much like a popular Mediterranean beach. And it’s also wide, which means that when you have to walk across it to the sea, the chances are your shoes will melt and your feet will burn.
So it comes as a bit of a big surprise, then, to discover that the water is icy cold. I mean, it’s literally freezing. My guess is that it comes straight from the Antarctic. That presumably can be the only reason as other places on this latitude – the Tropic of Capricorn – don’t have water this cold. But at least it is a refreshing contrast to the air temperature.
In the evening we resolve to check out Ipanema as we hear it’s more happening than Copacabana. Well one thing’s for sure, it’s more gay! Enough to make your eyes water. Luckily we find an Irish pub where they’re showing Champions League football to redress the balance. Funnily, the Portuguese pronunciation of Wayne Rooney sounds like Waynie Rooney.
We have some drink and food and find out from a rather overbearing Irish guy that there is a really good club in town. It’s in Marina del Gloria, and it truly is a marina of glory. Clearly in the rich part of town it’s a glorified marquee by the marina, which is full of expensive yachts and motorboats.
Armin van Buuren is playing. He’s a top Dutch trance DJ and is awesome. We dance like idiots and have big grins on our faces, despite only drinking alcohol. The girls are hot but totally not interested. Though I do talk to a few and find out that this night is put on for those that don’t like samba. For Mardi Gras, Rio knows how to put on a good alternative.
Christ!
Monday 15 February
Rio de Janeiro
Mildly recuperated from the long sleep we decide to go and see the statue of Christ the Redeemer on a hill in the centre of Rio. We grab a taxi to the funicular railway but the queues are massive so we get a minibus instead. We go halfway up and then there is confusion as to whether we’ve been ripped off and if we won’t get to the top. Given that no one speaks English we’re left in limbo until we get back into the bus and eventually find ourselves at the entrance to the national park. Where we catch another bus. And then we’re there.
It a big old 1920s edifice of a thing and there are loads of people there. Everyone tries to take pictures matching the pose but we’re too cool for school so just take normal ones. And then there’s the awesome panoramic views over the city, where you can see the crazy mountains and all the bays, lakes and beaches that comprise the city. And of course Guarnabara bay, named after the famous London nightclub. And, indeed, the pollution that smears a noticeable brown smudge along the horizon and out to sea.
In the evening we go to check out what’s happening. In Rio the carnaval is centred around the sambadromo – a street with stands around it that samba schools march down as part of a competition to decide which school is the winner. It’s formal and expensive and we weren’t that bothered after Salvador. So we look for the more informal version on Copacabana beach. But there’s not much going on. We see a couple of troupes but after Salvador they’re nothing to shout about. Plus we’re still feeling wasted so we leave it at that.
Rio de Janeiro
Mildly recuperated from the long sleep we decide to go and see the statue of Christ the Redeemer on a hill in the centre of Rio. We grab a taxi to the funicular railway but the queues are massive so we get a minibus instead. We go halfway up and then there is confusion as to whether we’ve been ripped off and if we won’t get to the top. Given that no one speaks English we’re left in limbo until we get back into the bus and eventually find ourselves at the entrance to the national park. Where we catch another bus. And then we’re there.
It a big old 1920s edifice of a thing and there are loads of people there. Everyone tries to take pictures matching the pose but we’re too cool for school so just take normal ones. And then there’s the awesome panoramic views over the city, where you can see the crazy mountains and all the bays, lakes and beaches that comprise the city. And of course Guarnabara bay, named after the famous London nightclub. And, indeed, the pollution that smears a noticeable brown smudge along the horizon and out to sea.
In the evening we go to check out what’s happening. In Rio the carnaval is centred around the sambadromo – a street with stands around it that samba schools march down as part of a competition to decide which school is the winner. It’s formal and expensive and we weren’t that bothered after Salvador. So we look for the more informal version on Copacabana beach. But there’s not much going on. We see a couple of troupes but after Salvador they’re nothing to shout about. Plus we’re still feeling wasted so we leave it at that.
Her Name is Rio and She Dances on the Sand
Sunday 14 February
Salvador – Rio de Janeiro
Alain and Ryan get up early to catch their flight, and I take it easy, eating loads for breakfast and taking my time packing and getting ready. I take my flight to Rio and fall asleep. Coming in to land I catch glimpses of the landscape, the crazy mountains and the run down favelas, seemingly built over whatever landscape happens to be there.
I arrive at the apartment and have a bit of trouble explaining to reception who I am and why they should let me in, but eventually we get there. It probably doesn’t help that I don’t speak any Portuguese, and they don’t speak English. It becomes a common theme that a lot gets lost in translation in Brazil. Just one of the perks of travelling.
To cut a long story short everyone is still wasted and the most we do is go out for food. We get to bed early and end up sleeping for about 11 hours. Carnaval? What caranval?
Salvador – Rio de Janeiro
Alain and Ryan get up early to catch their flight, and I take it easy, eating loads for breakfast and taking my time packing and getting ready. I take my flight to Rio and fall asleep. Coming in to land I catch glimpses of the landscape, the crazy mountains and the run down favelas, seemingly built over whatever landscape happens to be there.
I arrive at the apartment and have a bit of trouble explaining to reception who I am and why they should let me in, but eventually we get there. It probably doesn’t help that I don’t speak any Portuguese, and they don’t speak English. It becomes a common theme that a lot gets lost in translation in Brazil. Just one of the perks of travelling.
To cut a long story short everyone is still wasted and the most we do is go out for food. We get to bed early and end up sleeping for about 11 hours. Carnaval? What caranval?
Everybody Dance Now
Saturday 13 February
Salvador
A big hangover this morning. I take some pills but they cure the symptom, not the cause. And the cause is CARNAVAL!!! And you can’t turn back time. So I take it easy today.
We sort out a bloco for the night as we haven’t done one yet. And more importantly, Bob Sinclair is in the house. Or on top of a lorry, or bus, depending on how you describe it. Yes despite the music being overwhelmingly axé, euro-cheese-techno-DJ Bob Sinclair is playing on one of the trios, so we decide to go for that bloco.
We get to the streets a little late and then spend ages trying to find if it’s already started yet or not. After spending a good while walking through the crowds we eventually discover that everything’s running late and we get to join it more or less at the start.
We jump in and get in the mood. The blocos are pretty chaotic, there are loads of people pushing people around to ensure everything keeps moving. We eventually work out that to stand in the middle of the bloco is the calmest area and hang out there for most of the time.
It works out pretty much like a walking disco. Bob plays his tunes along with other euro-cheese and everyone dances for a bit and then walks for a bit. I drink hardly any booze for obvious reasons. Apparently the whole route should take about three hours or so but five hours in we’re about two thirds of the way through and at about 2 in the morning we head home. Alain and Ryan have an early flight to Rio in the morning.
Salvador
A big hangover this morning. I take some pills but they cure the symptom, not the cause. And the cause is CARNAVAL!!! And you can’t turn back time. So I take it easy today.
We sort out a bloco for the night as we haven’t done one yet. And more importantly, Bob Sinclair is in the house. Or on top of a lorry, or bus, depending on how you describe it. Yes despite the music being overwhelmingly axé, euro-cheese-techno-DJ Bob Sinclair is playing on one of the trios, so we decide to go for that bloco.
We get to the streets a little late and then spend ages trying to find if it’s already started yet or not. After spending a good while walking through the crowds we eventually discover that everything’s running late and we get to join it more or less at the start.
We jump in and get in the mood. The blocos are pretty chaotic, there are loads of people pushing people around to ensure everything keeps moving. We eventually work out that to stand in the middle of the bloco is the calmest area and hang out there for most of the time.
It works out pretty much like a walking disco. Bob plays his tunes along with other euro-cheese and everyone dances for a bit and then walks for a bit. I drink hardly any booze for obvious reasons. Apparently the whole route should take about three hours or so but five hours in we’re about two thirds of the way through and at about 2 in the morning we head home. Alain and Ryan have an early flight to Rio in the morning.
The Long Dark Night of the Soul
Friday 12 February
Salvador
So now we do it all again. Or at least try to. Having had not much sleep we organise another camarote, this time at a place called Reino (King in Portuguese). This is probably the main camarote and is even better that then last one. There are loads of beautiful women here. The nightclub is even bigger and plays even better music.
At one point we’re in the club and they’re playing some dance remix of a famous song – I forget which one – and I signal to the DJ to let the song happen. I’m not sure that the message gets across, and instead they throw me a CD of his tunes. Later on some guy introduces himself to me. I’m not sure who he is until he points to the CD – it’s the DJ playing earlier. I shake his hand but it’s all a bit surreal. Especially as his name is Wally Iglesias. What a name.
Back on the balcony there’s actually a long gangway that runs above the balcony. As the trios come past, the main singer steps on to a crane that lifts them to the balcony, and they continue to sign as they walk along the balcony while the trio inches past in the background. It’s crazy, and I feel privileged to be so close to what must be famous artists.
Back in the nightclub we all have a bit of a fun with the girls though nothing major happens, although Alain gets pretty close. But to be honest I’m still completely wasted and apart from some uplifting moments in the club, it’s all a bit much. Eventually we call it a night at some unknown hour of the morning.
Salvador
So now we do it all again. Or at least try to. Having had not much sleep we organise another camarote, this time at a place called Reino (King in Portuguese). This is probably the main camarote and is even better that then last one. There are loads of beautiful women here. The nightclub is even bigger and plays even better music.
At one point we’re in the club and they’re playing some dance remix of a famous song – I forget which one – and I signal to the DJ to let the song happen. I’m not sure that the message gets across, and instead they throw me a CD of his tunes. Later on some guy introduces himself to me. I’m not sure who he is until he points to the CD – it’s the DJ playing earlier. I shake his hand but it’s all a bit surreal. Especially as his name is Wally Iglesias. What a name.
Back on the balcony there’s actually a long gangway that runs above the balcony. As the trios come past, the main singer steps on to a crane that lifts them to the balcony, and they continue to sign as they walk along the balcony while the trio inches past in the background. It’s crazy, and I feel privileged to be so close to what must be famous artists.
Back in the nightclub we all have a bit of a fun with the girls though nothing major happens, although Alain gets pretty close. But to be honest I’m still completely wasted and apart from some uplifting moments in the club, it’s all a bit much. Eventually we call it a night at some unknown hour of the morning.
I Like to Party, Everybody Does
Thursday 11 February
Salvador
Here’s how we attacked carnaval. The first mistake was to wake up early for breakfast. I mean, what were we thinking? Sleep is a precious commodity at carnaval time. Anyway during the day we sorted out the tickets, which come in the form of sleeveless t-shirts that allow you access to the relevant area.
There are three ways to do carnaval – camarote, bloco and popcorn. Popcorn means wondering the streets without a ticket and jumping around with the crowds, listening to the music as it goes past. Bloco means you can go in a special roped off area around one of the trios – the floats, called trios after the three people who first got on a truck and played music, 60 years ago this year – and follow it along the carnaval route. The camarote (pronounced ka-ma-ROSH) is a large balcony overlooking the route where you can watch and hear the trios, and look at the crowds below, and also have free booze and food as well as other things like nightclubs, massages and so on. The other thing to mention about carnaval is that there is a ton of sponsorship, but it doesn’t seem to get in the way. The colourful logos somehow add to the experience.
So for the first night we choose a camarote at one of the top places. Inside it is amazing, really nicely designed, it feels like a good Mediterranean beach resort and nightclub inside. And there is a nightclub playing mainstream dance music, very well it has to be said. We get stuck in to the free booze too, and everyone has a good time. There are even waiters bringing around the free drinks on a tray, so you don’t even have to go to the bar.
From the balcony we can see the carnaval route with the trios, blocos and popcorn. And my word, do the Brazilians know how to party! The streets are packed, everyone is dancing, there are a lot of sexy people here. And music is crazy and infectious. It’s mainly based around drums, the kind you get in the break in Paul Simon’s Obvious Child, but instead of lyrics about feeling awkward or something, you have uplifting, high energy, melodic music in Portuguese. This is axé music (pronounced a-SHAY) which is basically melodic western rock backed by frenetic, chaotic African drums. You can’t help but dance, feel good and party.
The trios themselves are large lorries decked with very loud sound systems, LED screens and lights, and the band and hangers on at the top playing the music. There’s usually one main star singing at the front and the band – who really go for it, there’s no being too cool for school here – are behind. And they play all the hits – everyone seems to know the songs. And from a songwriter’s point of view, it’s easy to pick up the melody and structure and sing along, even though you have no idea what they are talking about. One song even had similar chords to Wonderwall, so we all got strange looks as we started singing a different song that no one knew...
We get swept up in it all, get drunk and have a good time. Before you know it, it’s about 5 in the morning and time to go home.
But the truth is that the words don’t do it justice. The map is not the territory. It has to be experienced. There’s nothing like seeing hundreds of thousands of people going crazy for hours on end. It just leaves you with a massive Cheshire cat grin on your face.
Salvador
Here’s how we attacked carnaval. The first mistake was to wake up early for breakfast. I mean, what were we thinking? Sleep is a precious commodity at carnaval time. Anyway during the day we sorted out the tickets, which come in the form of sleeveless t-shirts that allow you access to the relevant area.
There are three ways to do carnaval – camarote, bloco and popcorn. Popcorn means wondering the streets without a ticket and jumping around with the crowds, listening to the music as it goes past. Bloco means you can go in a special roped off area around one of the trios – the floats, called trios after the three people who first got on a truck and played music, 60 years ago this year – and follow it along the carnaval route. The camarote (pronounced ka-ma-ROSH) is a large balcony overlooking the route where you can watch and hear the trios, and look at the crowds below, and also have free booze and food as well as other things like nightclubs, massages and so on. The other thing to mention about carnaval is that there is a ton of sponsorship, but it doesn’t seem to get in the way. The colourful logos somehow add to the experience.
So for the first night we choose a camarote at one of the top places. Inside it is amazing, really nicely designed, it feels like a good Mediterranean beach resort and nightclub inside. And there is a nightclub playing mainstream dance music, very well it has to be said. We get stuck in to the free booze too, and everyone has a good time. There are even waiters bringing around the free drinks on a tray, so you don’t even have to go to the bar.
From the balcony we can see the carnaval route with the trios, blocos and popcorn. And my word, do the Brazilians know how to party! The streets are packed, everyone is dancing, there are a lot of sexy people here. And music is crazy and infectious. It’s mainly based around drums, the kind you get in the break in Paul Simon’s Obvious Child, but instead of lyrics about feeling awkward or something, you have uplifting, high energy, melodic music in Portuguese. This is axé music (pronounced a-SHAY) which is basically melodic western rock backed by frenetic, chaotic African drums. You can’t help but dance, feel good and party.
The trios themselves are large lorries decked with very loud sound systems, LED screens and lights, and the band and hangers on at the top playing the music. There’s usually one main star singing at the front and the band – who really go for it, there’s no being too cool for school here – are behind. And they play all the hits – everyone seems to know the songs. And from a songwriter’s point of view, it’s easy to pick up the melody and structure and sing along, even though you have no idea what they are talking about. One song even had similar chords to Wonderwall, so we all got strange looks as we started singing a different song that no one knew...
We get swept up in it all, get drunk and have a good time. Before you know it, it’s about 5 in the morning and time to go home.
But the truth is that the words don’t do it justice. The map is not the territory. It has to be experienced. There’s nothing like seeing hundreds of thousands of people going crazy for hours on end. It just leaves you with a massive Cheshire cat grin on your face.
Fly to El Salvador, I Don’t Know Why and I Don’t Know What for
Wednesday 10 February
Foz do Iguaçu – Curitiba – Salvador
So now it’s time to get into the carnaval spirit. Today was mostly travelling, catching the flight from Iguaçu to Curitiba and then to Salvador. There’s only a 25 minute gap between the two flights at Curitiba but surprisingly everything runs on time and there are no problems. I also experience my first few bits of Portuguese pronunciation, mainly that ‘t’s are pronounced as ‘ch’s, so Curitiba is Ku-ri-CHI-ba. Later I find that ‘r’s are a very light ‘h’ sound, so Rio is something like HE-oh. And ‘j’ is ‘zh’ and so on.
I arrive in Salvador after dark and there’s a long ride in the taxi to the hotel. As I get out the first thing I hear is the sound of drums. Oh yeah, it’s carnaval time.
I have a slight problem in that I only know the address of the hotel and it’s not in the guidebook so I’ve no idea where I am. But luckily there’s internet and through a slow process of deduction I get a general idea of where I am. I find a restaurant and end up sitting next to a German-Brazilian couple who are in the same hotel as me. I also meet some random fellow travellers from England and Australia and we all end up going for a drink, firstly to a random place only full of locals and fluorescent lighting, and then to a street bar with plastic chairs which also doubles up as a convenience store.
We are in the old town part of Salvador and it has a combination of colonial charm and colourful, African vibrancy. It is the African heart of Brazil after all, and the population is noticeably darker than other areas of the country.
Anyway the time is getting on and I don’t want to be late for Alain and his mate Ryan arriving, as I have the room key. As it turns out they get there literally a minute or two before I do, and the hotel lets them in the room anyway.
It’s great to see Alain again after so long and it’s not long before things are exactly like they were before. Ryan’s great as well and has a great sense of humour so it’s all good. We head out for a brief drink before the town shuts down for the night and we hit up carnaval proper the next day.
Foz do Iguaçu – Curitiba – Salvador
So now it’s time to get into the carnaval spirit. Today was mostly travelling, catching the flight from Iguaçu to Curitiba and then to Salvador. There’s only a 25 minute gap between the two flights at Curitiba but surprisingly everything runs on time and there are no problems. I also experience my first few bits of Portuguese pronunciation, mainly that ‘t’s are pronounced as ‘ch’s, so Curitiba is Ku-ri-CHI-ba. Later I find that ‘r’s are a very light ‘h’ sound, so Rio is something like HE-oh. And ‘j’ is ‘zh’ and so on.
I arrive in Salvador after dark and there’s a long ride in the taxi to the hotel. As I get out the first thing I hear is the sound of drums. Oh yeah, it’s carnaval time.
I have a slight problem in that I only know the address of the hotel and it’s not in the guidebook so I’ve no idea where I am. But luckily there’s internet and through a slow process of deduction I get a general idea of where I am. I find a restaurant and end up sitting next to a German-Brazilian couple who are in the same hotel as me. I also meet some random fellow travellers from England and Australia and we all end up going for a drink, firstly to a random place only full of locals and fluorescent lighting, and then to a street bar with plastic chairs which also doubles up as a convenience store.
We are in the old town part of Salvador and it has a combination of colonial charm and colourful, African vibrancy. It is the African heart of Brazil after all, and the population is noticeably darker than other areas of the country.
Anyway the time is getting on and I don’t want to be late for Alain and his mate Ryan arriving, as I have the room key. As it turns out they get there literally a minute or two before I do, and the hotel lets them in the room anyway.
It’s great to see Alain again after so long and it’s not long before things are exactly like they were before. Ryan’s great as well and has a great sense of humour so it’s all good. We head out for a brief drink before the town shuts down for the night and we hit up carnaval proper the next day.
Thursday 11 February 2010
She’s a Waterfall
Tuesday 9 February
Foz do Iguaçu
So today I went to the Brazilian side of the falls. I caught a public bus and once again had the usual bus confusion as to where to get off. At one point I got out at the airport thinking I had already gone too far, only to double check with the bus guard in my fluent mime that the falls were still to come.
The weather was much cooler today, hardly sweat-inducing at all, and all the more pleasant for it. But it was sunny again so the rainbows were back in force. The Brazilian side involves a walk through a forest, all the while getting closer to the falls themselves, providing a wide variety of perspectives as you progress.
You realise also that there are a lot of the falls that you can’t see from the Argentinean side and there are plenty of great photo opportunities. And then when you get to the end you have the final coup de grace – a platform that extends out into the middle of one part of the falls. Here you can see the Devil’s Throat from the front, and also get slowly soaked with spray coming off the crashing water.
Back at the hostel I caught some rays by the pool and got talking to some Swiss people as well as a bunch of Australians that were working their way fastidiously through some beers. I connected with the Europeans and thankfully they were up for eating out, which is rare as most people are on a tight budget and tend to eat in. We found somewhere and despite not being able to translate the menu we had a surprisingly good and large meal at one of the restaurants nearby and made some funny jokes about Nazis.
Speaking of which, the German influence is evident even in this corner of South America – the road the restaurant was on was called Jorge Schimmelpfeng and there was a Biergarten a few blocks down. Afterwards we had a few more beers and a bit of guitar playing back at the hostel.
Foz do Iguaçu
So today I went to the Brazilian side of the falls. I caught a public bus and once again had the usual bus confusion as to where to get off. At one point I got out at the airport thinking I had already gone too far, only to double check with the bus guard in my fluent mime that the falls were still to come.
The weather was much cooler today, hardly sweat-inducing at all, and all the more pleasant for it. But it was sunny again so the rainbows were back in force. The Brazilian side involves a walk through a forest, all the while getting closer to the falls themselves, providing a wide variety of perspectives as you progress.
You realise also that there are a lot of the falls that you can’t see from the Argentinean side and there are plenty of great photo opportunities. And then when you get to the end you have the final coup de grace – a platform that extends out into the middle of one part of the falls. Here you can see the Devil’s Throat from the front, and also get slowly soaked with spray coming off the crashing water.
Back at the hostel I caught some rays by the pool and got talking to some Swiss people as well as a bunch of Australians that were working their way fastidiously through some beers. I connected with the Europeans and thankfully they were up for eating out, which is rare as most people are on a tight budget and tend to eat in. We found somewhere and despite not being able to translate the menu we had a surprisingly good and large meal at one of the restaurants nearby and made some funny jokes about Nazis.
Speaking of which, the German influence is evident even in this corner of South America – the road the restaurant was on was called Jorge Schimmelpfeng and there was a Biergarten a few blocks down. Afterwards we had a few more beers and a bit of guitar playing back at the hostel.
Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls
Monday 8 February
Puerto Iguazu, Argentina – Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil.
So having been woken up early by an Israeli who thought it would be a good idea to blow his nose in the bathroom sink with the door open for all the dorm to hear, I decide to make use of my time and head back to the waterfalls again to finish off the parts of the Argentinean side that I didn’t do the previous day.
It’s more cloudy today and a fraction cooler. I finish off the lower circuit that I didn’t do last time. On my way to the exit we come across a whole tribe of monkeys who are making their way across the main path. I get some good photos and also a bit of video of one of them. We also see them eating papayas from the trees, throwing the skins on the ground.
I also get some more extensive pictures of the Coatis who are totally unafraid of humans, coming right up to them in the hope of some food. Even though I don’t think they’re meant to be fed. And there was a large lizard. Yes, lizard. Mr. Lizard.
I get back to the hostel and pack quickly as there is a bus shortly leaving for Foz do Iguaçu on the Brazilian side. Just as I get to the bus station I see the bus leaving from its stop. I maniacally fling myself out in front of it (well not quite, but you know what I mean). Then a few things happen in quick succession. Firstly the bus driver luckily notices me and signals that he’ll pick me up round the corner. Secondly, someone points out that I’ve dropped something. It turns out to be one of my bottles of sun tan lotion that I kept in a compartment at the bottom of my bag. I notice that the zip’s come open and of the three bottles that were in there, all of them had fallen out and I now only had the last one which I just picked up. Finally some official from the bus station reprimanded me in Spanish for walking outside the pedestrian zone when I waved to the bus driver. “Yeah, whatever,” I thought to myself as I ignored her and headed for the bus.
Back on the bus, panting, hot, and bemoaning the loss of the sun tan lotion, it was only a short time before we reached the border. We went through Argentinean passport control and then drove down the road to Brazil. There we left with our bags and did the forms and stamps thing. Then we had to wait another 40 minutes for the next bus to come along, which was a bit of a bore.
But that wasn’t the worst aspect. There were a lot of clouds around, and it was windy. I scanned the weather with my yachtsman’s experience and I didn’t think much of it. There was plenty of rain around and it seemed only a matter of time before some of it reached us. And it took only a couple of minutes before I was proved right.
I saw the rain first coming over the customs buildings and then quickly towards us. We sheltered under a tree but it wasn’t enough. Luckily there were two Canadian people in the same situation as me and one of them spoke good enough Spanish to get by in Portuguese, and he quickly ordered us a taxi.
It was just as well as by now the rain was torrential and as we drove into town it came down so hard and so fast, you could barely see twenty metres. There were rivers running down the streets washing plenty of rubbish with it.
We arrived at my hostel and despite there only being about three metres between the taxi and the hostel door, I still managed to get soaked to the skin.
I sorted myself out spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and surfing the web. By evening time the rain had stopped and I ventured out for a cash machine and food. Money was no problem but all the restaurants nearby were cheap and cheerful. I picked a pizza place that had a lot of people in it – though once inside I found out that that was mainly because there was some birthday party on.
There was an amusing and confusing process of trying to work out how to order. They didn’t seem to want to give me a menu and in the end they found a waiter who spoke a bit of English. It turned out that it was a kind of table buffet service where they brought round pizzas which you could choose to have a piece of, and then you paid for the number of pieces that you had at the end.
I wasn’t that hungry so only had a few, but after all the hassles of the last few days the thing I was most interested in was the beer. There was a special offer on a beer called Chop which, being cold, light and refreshing, was ideal. I had two.
Back at the hostel the bar was busy and there were plenty more beers and of course caparinhias. Well, when in Brazil... A good few drinks and a good chat with some English girls and some Aussie guys and all was well with the world once again.
Puerto Iguazu, Argentina – Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil.
So having been woken up early by an Israeli who thought it would be a good idea to blow his nose in the bathroom sink with the door open for all the dorm to hear, I decide to make use of my time and head back to the waterfalls again to finish off the parts of the Argentinean side that I didn’t do the previous day.
It’s more cloudy today and a fraction cooler. I finish off the lower circuit that I didn’t do last time. On my way to the exit we come across a whole tribe of monkeys who are making their way across the main path. I get some good photos and also a bit of video of one of them. We also see them eating papayas from the trees, throwing the skins on the ground.
I also get some more extensive pictures of the Coatis who are totally unafraid of humans, coming right up to them in the hope of some food. Even though I don’t think they’re meant to be fed. And there was a large lizard. Yes, lizard. Mr. Lizard.
I get back to the hostel and pack quickly as there is a bus shortly leaving for Foz do Iguaçu on the Brazilian side. Just as I get to the bus station I see the bus leaving from its stop. I maniacally fling myself out in front of it (well not quite, but you know what I mean). Then a few things happen in quick succession. Firstly the bus driver luckily notices me and signals that he’ll pick me up round the corner. Secondly, someone points out that I’ve dropped something. It turns out to be one of my bottles of sun tan lotion that I kept in a compartment at the bottom of my bag. I notice that the zip’s come open and of the three bottles that were in there, all of them had fallen out and I now only had the last one which I just picked up. Finally some official from the bus station reprimanded me in Spanish for walking outside the pedestrian zone when I waved to the bus driver. “Yeah, whatever,” I thought to myself as I ignored her and headed for the bus.
Back on the bus, panting, hot, and bemoaning the loss of the sun tan lotion, it was only a short time before we reached the border. We went through Argentinean passport control and then drove down the road to Brazil. There we left with our bags and did the forms and stamps thing. Then we had to wait another 40 minutes for the next bus to come along, which was a bit of a bore.
But that wasn’t the worst aspect. There were a lot of clouds around, and it was windy. I scanned the weather with my yachtsman’s experience and I didn’t think much of it. There was plenty of rain around and it seemed only a matter of time before some of it reached us. And it took only a couple of minutes before I was proved right.
I saw the rain first coming over the customs buildings and then quickly towards us. We sheltered under a tree but it wasn’t enough. Luckily there were two Canadian people in the same situation as me and one of them spoke good enough Spanish to get by in Portuguese, and he quickly ordered us a taxi.
It was just as well as by now the rain was torrential and as we drove into town it came down so hard and so fast, you could barely see twenty metres. There were rivers running down the streets washing plenty of rubbish with it.
We arrived at my hostel and despite there only being about three metres between the taxi and the hostel door, I still managed to get soaked to the skin.
I sorted myself out spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and surfing the web. By evening time the rain had stopped and I ventured out for a cash machine and food. Money was no problem but all the restaurants nearby were cheap and cheerful. I picked a pizza place that had a lot of people in it – though once inside I found out that that was mainly because there was some birthday party on.
There was an amusing and confusing process of trying to work out how to order. They didn’t seem to want to give me a menu and in the end they found a waiter who spoke a bit of English. It turned out that it was a kind of table buffet service where they brought round pizzas which you could choose to have a piece of, and then you paid for the number of pieces that you had at the end.
I wasn’t that hungry so only had a few, but after all the hassles of the last few days the thing I was most interested in was the beer. There was a special offer on a beer called Chop which, being cold, light and refreshing, was ideal. I had two.
Back at the hostel the bar was busy and there were plenty more beers and of course caparinhias. Well, when in Brazil... A good few drinks and a good chat with some English girls and some Aussie guys and all was well with the world once again.
She’ll Carry on through It All
Sunday 7 February
Puerto Iguazu
So there’s more hassle today as it’s Sunday, it’s hot, and I spend most of the morning walking around town trying to find a cash machine that will give me some cash, without any success. Turns out there is a cash machine within the Iguazu Falls park and I can get some there.
So I head off to the falls and FUCK ME it’s hot again. I literally sweat buckets. But the place is awesome. There’s nothing quite as relaxing as a waterfall, and when it’s as big, varied and impressive as Iguazu there’s not much that can go wrong.
I take a million pictures. The blazing sun at least creates plenty of rainbows in any piece of spray going. There are also some black birds with colourful rings around their eyes. There are also Coatis, small raccoon-like creatures with fat bodies and pointy noses that my half-Argentinean friend Marcos warned me about. I don’t know why though, apart from sniffing out food from visitors they seemed pretty harmless. I also later find out that they’re called nose-bears in German.
However just as I’m taking pictures of the Coatis my battery on my camera runs out, which is an arse. But I find out that you can come back the next day for half price so, as it’s so hot and a little wearing to walk round the whole place in one shot, I decide to come back tomorrow.
Back at the hostel I meet with Sam again and two of his friends who have arrived, Selena and Ali. We then go back to the same restaurant as last night and have some more beef, and then go back and watch the end of the Superbowl. Yay for New Orleans! Incidentally, despite Bife de Chorizo getting all the press, for me Bife de Lomo is where it’s at when it comes to Argentinean steak.
Puerto Iguazu
So there’s more hassle today as it’s Sunday, it’s hot, and I spend most of the morning walking around town trying to find a cash machine that will give me some cash, without any success. Turns out there is a cash machine within the Iguazu Falls park and I can get some there.
So I head off to the falls and FUCK ME it’s hot again. I literally sweat buckets. But the place is awesome. There’s nothing quite as relaxing as a waterfall, and when it’s as big, varied and impressive as Iguazu there’s not much that can go wrong.
I take a million pictures. The blazing sun at least creates plenty of rainbows in any piece of spray going. There are also some black birds with colourful rings around their eyes. There are also Coatis, small raccoon-like creatures with fat bodies and pointy noses that my half-Argentinean friend Marcos warned me about. I don’t know why though, apart from sniffing out food from visitors they seemed pretty harmless. I also later find out that they’re called nose-bears in German.
However just as I’m taking pictures of the Coatis my battery on my camera runs out, which is an arse. But I find out that you can come back the next day for half price so, as it’s so hot and a little wearing to walk round the whole place in one shot, I decide to come back tomorrow.
Back at the hostel I meet with Sam again and two of his friends who have arrived, Selena and Ali. We then go back to the same restaurant as last night and have some more beef, and then go back and watch the end of the Superbowl. Yay for New Orleans! Incidentally, despite Bife de Chorizo getting all the press, for me Bife de Lomo is where it’s at when it comes to Argentinean steak.
Many Rare and Precious Things I Have Tried to Call Mine
Saturday 6 February
Buenos Aires – Puerto Iguazu
The next morning on the bus brought much better weather, clear blue skies and sunshine. As I looked out into the fields I saw my first rhea – an ostrich but smaller – in fact three of them standing in a field. Which was another thing to tick off the list, though I hope to see one closer up at some point.
The bus is running late from the bad weather from the night before and we arrive much later than planned, and hungry given there was no lunch. And then as I got off the bus – bam! The heat hit me. My god it was hot. It was oppressive. But I know I have to get used to it as it’s gonna be like this for the rest of the trip. Apart from the Andes maybe.
But that wasn’t the worst thing, just as I got to the hostel I realised that I had lost my phone. Damn! So I went back to the bus company and luckily they arranged for me to go and look at the bus to see if I could find it, but it was long gone. I get all shitty about it and have a bit of hassle finding a place that I can call from to cancel the SIM but find one eventually. Luckily it only costs a quid to make the call. But having to do it all in insufferable heat was no fun.
Eventually I get back to the hostel and have a bite to eat and generally feel sorry for myself for a bit before putting on my shorts and jumping in the pool! Yeah, that’s the best thing. It actually felt cold in the air once I’d been in the water, so that was some respite at last.
At the pool there was a bunch of typically unsociable Israelis, three bogan Australians getting drunk and pissing in the bushes (you can take the man out of Australia...!) and three English people. I end up talking to one guy, his name’s Sam and we get chatting. He looks like a thinner version of my friend Drew, but unlike Drew’s optimism and playfulness he has a dark and cynical streak. Still, it takes all sorts and we have a bit of a chat and take the piss out of the Aussies.
Turns out we’re both into music and play guitar and have both been having fun while on tour. We compare notes on what mischief we’ve been up to so far. Sam is an incorrigible flirt and so he’s had his fair share of fun. We go out for a meal and have a large steak while being serenaded by a singer at the restaurant. Very romantic.
After that we go back to the hostel and completely fail to impress anyone there with our guitar playing. They were all unsociable Israelis anyway. Although to be fair my guitar playing wasn’t that great!
Buenos Aires – Puerto Iguazu
The next morning on the bus brought much better weather, clear blue skies and sunshine. As I looked out into the fields I saw my first rhea – an ostrich but smaller – in fact three of them standing in a field. Which was another thing to tick off the list, though I hope to see one closer up at some point.
The bus is running late from the bad weather from the night before and we arrive much later than planned, and hungry given there was no lunch. And then as I got off the bus – bam! The heat hit me. My god it was hot. It was oppressive. But I know I have to get used to it as it’s gonna be like this for the rest of the trip. Apart from the Andes maybe.
But that wasn’t the worst thing, just as I got to the hostel I realised that I had lost my phone. Damn! So I went back to the bus company and luckily they arranged for me to go and look at the bus to see if I could find it, but it was long gone. I get all shitty about it and have a bit of hassle finding a place that I can call from to cancel the SIM but find one eventually. Luckily it only costs a quid to make the call. But having to do it all in insufferable heat was no fun.
Eventually I get back to the hostel and have a bite to eat and generally feel sorry for myself for a bit before putting on my shorts and jumping in the pool! Yeah, that’s the best thing. It actually felt cold in the air once I’d been in the water, so that was some respite at last.
At the pool there was a bunch of typically unsociable Israelis, three bogan Australians getting drunk and pissing in the bushes (you can take the man out of Australia...!) and three English people. I end up talking to one guy, his name’s Sam and we get chatting. He looks like a thinner version of my friend Drew, but unlike Drew’s optimism and playfulness he has a dark and cynical streak. Still, it takes all sorts and we have a bit of a chat and take the piss out of the Aussies.
Turns out we’re both into music and play guitar and have both been having fun while on tour. We compare notes on what mischief we’ve been up to so far. Sam is an incorrigible flirt and so he’s had his fair share of fun. We go out for a meal and have a large steak while being serenaded by a singer at the restaurant. Very romantic.
After that we go back to the hostel and completely fail to impress anyone there with our guitar playing. They were all unsociable Israelis anyway. Although to be fair my guitar playing wasn’t that great!
Heading up Paraná Way
Friday 5 February
Buenos Aires – Puerto Iguazu
So basically I killed time today before catching my bus to Iguazu. I more or less spent a load of time on the internet as well as doing a few other adminy bits and pieces. Eventually it became time to go to the bus station and I went to get a cab. It was raining and even though I had my umbrella it was still pretty wet.
Usually it’s easy to catch a cab but with the rain they were few and far between. Annoyingly someone grabbed one that was coming to me too. I hope he gets bad AIDS. But eventually I caught one and got to the bus station.
Annoyingly the bus that had been booked for me wasn’t “tutto letto” i.e. full reclining, but one of the almost full reclining ones. Despite that it turned out to be much more comfortable that the previous one I had taken.
Then just as we were leaving Buenos Aires the rain started to pelt down ferociously and it felt there was a war on. It was like Satan’s piss. Even the bus began to leak in places because of the amount of water, luckily none of it on me.
Unsurprisingly we soon found ourselves in a queue on the motorway and I was thinking I was the kid in the Sixth Sense: “There’s been an accident.” Sure enough later on there was some flashing lights and various cars strewn across the road. I saw one with most of its bonnet crushed but couldn’t make out much more than that.
After that the bus was back to normal speed. We had dinner and I managed to order wine which was a good help with the journey. The Argentinean next to me tries to engage with me in conversation but doesn’t get very far given our linguistic limitations.
As the last movie on the trip they showed Five Minutes of Heaven starring Liam Neeson and Jimmy Nesbit, which I’d never seen before but was pretty engrossing. Then I managed to get a bit of sleep.
Buenos Aires – Puerto Iguazu
So basically I killed time today before catching my bus to Iguazu. I more or less spent a load of time on the internet as well as doing a few other adminy bits and pieces. Eventually it became time to go to the bus station and I went to get a cab. It was raining and even though I had my umbrella it was still pretty wet.
Usually it’s easy to catch a cab but with the rain they were few and far between. Annoyingly someone grabbed one that was coming to me too. I hope he gets bad AIDS. But eventually I caught one and got to the bus station.
Annoyingly the bus that had been booked for me wasn’t “tutto letto” i.e. full reclining, but one of the almost full reclining ones. Despite that it turned out to be much more comfortable that the previous one I had taken.
Then just as we were leaving Buenos Aires the rain started to pelt down ferociously and it felt there was a war on. It was like Satan’s piss. Even the bus began to leak in places because of the amount of water, luckily none of it on me.
Unsurprisingly we soon found ourselves in a queue on the motorway and I was thinking I was the kid in the Sixth Sense: “There’s been an accident.” Sure enough later on there was some flashing lights and various cars strewn across the road. I saw one with most of its bonnet crushed but couldn’t make out much more than that.
After that the bus was back to normal speed. We had dinner and I managed to order wine which was a good help with the journey. The Argentinean next to me tries to engage with me in conversation but doesn’t get very far given our linguistic limitations.
As the last movie on the trip they showed Five Minutes of Heaven starring Liam Neeson and Jimmy Nesbit, which I’d never seen before but was pretty engrossing. Then I managed to get a bit of sleep.
Friday 5 February 2010
There and Back Again
Thursday 4 February
Buenos Aires, Argentina – Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay – Buenos Aires, Argentina
This was the day that I had booked my one-day-trip to Uruguay. To catch the ferry I had to get up at 6.30 and miss breakfast, which left me tired and hungry, and despite not having drunk much last night I had a hangover too. I took a taxi to the ferry terminal and when the driver found out I was English he seemed to be very keen to talk about, “John Terry! John Terry” Fucky-fucky!” which was a little surreal. He also asked me in his broken English how many times I’d had sex since being in Argentina, which was an interesting topic.
On the ferry the air con was blisteringly cold and the chairs didn’t make it easy to sleep, so by the time I arrived in Uruguay I was worse for wear. Coming off the boat we were led through a series of passageways and waiting rooms that seemed to be untouched from the early seventies, complete with old ads featuring Joan Collins. I started to wonder what sort of place Uruguay was. I had booked my tickets online on a Spanish language website so I wasn’t exactly sure what I was letting myself in for.
Once I’d been through a rabbit warren of passages, gangways and rooms, I eventually found myself in a large, modern, air conditioned building that was the new terminal, one completed building in a series of many that they were in the process of building. There were people holding signs of the ferry I was on. I spoke to one of them and found out that I had also bought myself a walking tour of Colonia as part of my ticket. That was a relief, at least I could get my bearings which, given my tired and hungover state, was a relief. Although I really wanted to sit down and have a cup of tea and maybe something to eat.
Anyway thankfully Colonia is a small town and the tour covered the small, old, historic part so it didn’t take long. Full of facts about the place I finally had my cup of tea and felt a lot better.
Colonia is an old settlement originally founded by the Portuguese as a smuggling port to rival Buenos Aires, and it passed hands between the Portuguese and Spanish nine times before eventually remaining Spanish and ultimately becoming part of Uruguay. The old part of the town if full of picturesque traditional buildings that are very camera friendly. I took a bunch of photos and had lunch and went up the small lighthouse to get some aerial views.
After that I killed time drinking a beer and chatting to a Swiss guy who had been on the same tour as me. He was taking a sabbatical and learning Spanish for 10 weeks in BA. Eventually it was time to get the return ferry. This time the air con was on much lower and everything was a bit sticky.
Getting back to the hostel I relaxed in my room and surfed the web but without being able to sleep. There was no one else in the room so when it was about time to go out I went down to the common area and drank a Pepsi to wake myself up. I heard a group speaking English and introduced myself to them. It was a mixture of English, Australian and Kiwi, with a token Dane.
After a few drinks we all went out for steak and then back to the hostel for rum and coke, and then on to a club in Palermo for more entertainment. And well, there was this English girl and we had a bit of fun but nothing to add to what I told the taxi driver that morning.
Buenos Aires, Argentina – Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay – Buenos Aires, Argentina
This was the day that I had booked my one-day-trip to Uruguay. To catch the ferry I had to get up at 6.30 and miss breakfast, which left me tired and hungry, and despite not having drunk much last night I had a hangover too. I took a taxi to the ferry terminal and when the driver found out I was English he seemed to be very keen to talk about, “John Terry! John Terry” Fucky-fucky!” which was a little surreal. He also asked me in his broken English how many times I’d had sex since being in Argentina, which was an interesting topic.
On the ferry the air con was blisteringly cold and the chairs didn’t make it easy to sleep, so by the time I arrived in Uruguay I was worse for wear. Coming off the boat we were led through a series of passageways and waiting rooms that seemed to be untouched from the early seventies, complete with old ads featuring Joan Collins. I started to wonder what sort of place Uruguay was. I had booked my tickets online on a Spanish language website so I wasn’t exactly sure what I was letting myself in for.
Once I’d been through a rabbit warren of passages, gangways and rooms, I eventually found myself in a large, modern, air conditioned building that was the new terminal, one completed building in a series of many that they were in the process of building. There were people holding signs of the ferry I was on. I spoke to one of them and found out that I had also bought myself a walking tour of Colonia as part of my ticket. That was a relief, at least I could get my bearings which, given my tired and hungover state, was a relief. Although I really wanted to sit down and have a cup of tea and maybe something to eat.
Anyway thankfully Colonia is a small town and the tour covered the small, old, historic part so it didn’t take long. Full of facts about the place I finally had my cup of tea and felt a lot better.
Colonia is an old settlement originally founded by the Portuguese as a smuggling port to rival Buenos Aires, and it passed hands between the Portuguese and Spanish nine times before eventually remaining Spanish and ultimately becoming part of Uruguay. The old part of the town if full of picturesque traditional buildings that are very camera friendly. I took a bunch of photos and had lunch and went up the small lighthouse to get some aerial views.
After that I killed time drinking a beer and chatting to a Swiss guy who had been on the same tour as me. He was taking a sabbatical and learning Spanish for 10 weeks in BA. Eventually it was time to get the return ferry. This time the air con was on much lower and everything was a bit sticky.
Getting back to the hostel I relaxed in my room and surfed the web but without being able to sleep. There was no one else in the room so when it was about time to go out I went down to the common area and drank a Pepsi to wake myself up. I heard a group speaking English and introduced myself to them. It was a mixture of English, Australian and Kiwi, with a token Dane.
After a few drinks we all went out for steak and then back to the hostel for rum and coke, and then on to a club in Palermo for more entertainment. And well, there was this English girl and we had a bit of fun but nothing to add to what I told the taxi driver that morning.
What’s new, Buenos Aires?
Wednesday 3 February
San Carlos de Bariloche – Buenos Aires
After probably the best sleep I’ve had on the trip so far we awoke to a massive rain storm as we approached Buenos Aires. Luckily it eased off a bit once we arrived at the bus station, but it wasn’t the sunshine and 30+ degree heat weather we had when I left.
I found my way to my hostel which this time had air con which was a huge relief. It was also very clean and modern but despite that still had a nice friendly, welcoming atmosphere. In my room I met an Irish girl and a guy from Jordan via Canada. We basically hung out and went to lunch together, they slept in the afternoon while I booked more of my forthcoming trip and did laundry. And then we had a drink and went to dinner as well. Went to bed at about 12:30.
San Carlos de Bariloche – Buenos Aires
After probably the best sleep I’ve had on the trip so far we awoke to a massive rain storm as we approached Buenos Aires. Luckily it eased off a bit once we arrived at the bus station, but it wasn’t the sunshine and 30+ degree heat weather we had when I left.
I found my way to my hostel which this time had air con which was a huge relief. It was also very clean and modern but despite that still had a nice friendly, welcoming atmosphere. In my room I met an Irish girl and a guy from Jordan via Canada. We basically hung out and went to lunch together, they slept in the afternoon while I booked more of my forthcoming trip and did laundry. And then we had a drink and went to dinner as well. Went to bed at about 12:30.
Perfect Dorm
Tuesday 2 February
San Carlos de Bariloche – Buenos Aires
Despite being in a rather crowded dorm of 8 people I managed to get a good night’s sleep and was happy not to have to put up with anyone snoring, which, given the probability, is remarkable.
I had the breakfast that the hostel provided. It seemed to mainly consist of sawdust, which wasn’t great. But I got talking to some German and Dutch people and ended up explaining to them the political situation in Thailand and how it’s the middle classes that are revolting, as it were.
One thing I’ve noticed in my travels in South America is that there are a significantly large number of travellers from Brazil. I guess it’s the richest countries that can afford to have people take time off and visit other places, and while in the past this has been mainly traditional Western G8-type countries, it definitely seems that Brazil has joined this in a big way, certainly within its own continent. That and how expensive Brazil apparently is as well.
So I take the overnight bus back to Buenos Aires. This time I have the full reclining seats and wow is it so much more comfortable for me than the almost-full recliners. I sleep like a baby for large amounts of time. Given the increased cost there is a better class of traveller on this bus, older, richer people. Though there is also some rough traveller looking Argentineans as well. When I was in Barcelona last year Jacs and Katie commented on how many of the locals looked like pirates – beads, dreadlocks, tans, tattoos. Well the same thing applies here. What is it about the Latin people that love pirate chic?
Also as we’re leaving Bariloche I manage to get some great pictures of the Patagonian countryside that I missed on the previous journey in. I could only do it for about 10 minutes as I was taking so many photos that eventually it became boring. But Patagonia also looks remarkably like Britain, but on a larger scale. The top of Refugio Frey looked a bit like Cadair Idris on acid.
At about 9 pm the bus stopped at some town and everyone got off. Once again I was the only English speaker on the bus and had no idea what was going on. Luckily someone explained to me that the air conditioning had broken and the bus was going away to get it fixed and should be back in about 10-15 minutes.
So I got off with everyone else, and then spent the next half an hour in various states of paranoia and I tried to recognise my co-travellers and not let them out of site in case the bus came and they all left without me noticing. Then I started to remember that all my stuff was on the bus and what if they changed buses, would I get all my stuff back? Though then I realised that everyone else’s stuff was also on the bus so I probably didn’t need to worry about that.
Anyway eventually the bus returned with the air con fixed and we all made our way quietly into the night.
San Carlos de Bariloche – Buenos Aires
Despite being in a rather crowded dorm of 8 people I managed to get a good night’s sleep and was happy not to have to put up with anyone snoring, which, given the probability, is remarkable.
I had the breakfast that the hostel provided. It seemed to mainly consist of sawdust, which wasn’t great. But I got talking to some German and Dutch people and ended up explaining to them the political situation in Thailand and how it’s the middle classes that are revolting, as it were.
One thing I’ve noticed in my travels in South America is that there are a significantly large number of travellers from Brazil. I guess it’s the richest countries that can afford to have people take time off and visit other places, and while in the past this has been mainly traditional Western G8-type countries, it definitely seems that Brazil has joined this in a big way, certainly within its own continent. That and how expensive Brazil apparently is as well.
So I take the overnight bus back to Buenos Aires. This time I have the full reclining seats and wow is it so much more comfortable for me than the almost-full recliners. I sleep like a baby for large amounts of time. Given the increased cost there is a better class of traveller on this bus, older, richer people. Though there is also some rough traveller looking Argentineans as well. When I was in Barcelona last year Jacs and Katie commented on how many of the locals looked like pirates – beads, dreadlocks, tans, tattoos. Well the same thing applies here. What is it about the Latin people that love pirate chic?
Also as we’re leaving Bariloche I manage to get some great pictures of the Patagonian countryside that I missed on the previous journey in. I could only do it for about 10 minutes as I was taking so many photos that eventually it became boring. But Patagonia also looks remarkably like Britain, but on a larger scale. The top of Refugio Frey looked a bit like Cadair Idris on acid.
At about 9 pm the bus stopped at some town and everyone got off. Once again I was the only English speaker on the bus and had no idea what was going on. Luckily someone explained to me that the air conditioning had broken and the bus was going away to get it fixed and should be back in about 10-15 minutes.
So I got off with everyone else, and then spent the next half an hour in various states of paranoia and I tried to recognise my co-travellers and not let them out of site in case the bus came and they all left without me noticing. Then I started to remember that all my stuff was on the bus and what if they changed buses, would I get all my stuff back? Though then I realised that everyone else’s stuff was also on the bus so I probably didn’t need to worry about that.
Anyway eventually the bus returned with the air con fixed and we all made our way quietly into the night.
Thursday 4 February 2010
Return to Patagonia
Monday 1 February
Puerto Varas, Chile – San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina
Basically not much happens today, I just get the bus back to Bariloche the way I came. If I hadn’t booked everything in advance I would have probably gone to Pucón where there is an active volcano where you can touch hot rocks on the side, and it glows red and orange at night.
I also probably would have gone back by a different route just to see some different places – maybe via Santiago and Mendoza for example, but I probably wouldn’t have had time. I would have also liked to have gone to El Calafate but that is too far south on my timetable. Maybe next time.
There wasn’t much to say about the journey, other than I slept a lot, There was an old Chilean woman sat next to me who kept on trying to talk to me in Spanish without me being able to understand her, and a Scottish family also on the bus which meant that I could at least talk to someone in English (as opposed to mime) for a change.
When I returned to Bariloche I checked in at Hostel 1004 where I had already booked a room and went out to the pub. But there was hardly anyone there and there wasn’t much going on so I went back to the hostel and surfed the net a bit.
Puerto Varas, Chile – San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina
Basically not much happens today, I just get the bus back to Bariloche the way I came. If I hadn’t booked everything in advance I would have probably gone to Pucón where there is an active volcano where you can touch hot rocks on the side, and it glows red and orange at night.
I also probably would have gone back by a different route just to see some different places – maybe via Santiago and Mendoza for example, but I probably wouldn’t have had time. I would have also liked to have gone to El Calafate but that is too far south on my timetable. Maybe next time.
There wasn’t much to say about the journey, other than I slept a lot, There was an old Chilean woman sat next to me who kept on trying to talk to me in Spanish without me being able to understand her, and a Scottish family also on the bus which meant that I could at least talk to someone in English (as opposed to mime) for a change.
When I returned to Bariloche I checked in at Hostel 1004 where I had already booked a room and went out to the pub. But there was hardly anyone there and there wasn’t much going on so I went back to the hostel and surfed the net a bit.
Ring of Fire
Sunday 31 January
Puerto Varas
Generally have a good night’s sleep. There is a bit of snoring from an old French guy but with a bit of mime I manage to get him to sleep on his side and it’s no longer a problem.
I decide to go on one of the hikes that the girl in the hostel told me about the day before, and get the bus to the edge of Volcan Orsorno. On the way I see my first llamas in South America, which is a big thing for me. Other than Iguazu, Machu Pichu, carnival, Galapagos and so on, llamas are the main attraction of South America for me.
So I get to the start of the hike and the first part is five kilometres up a road, which is a bit boring. Plus there are flies here. They’re big, about two centimetres long and one wide, but they’re a bit stupid. They move slowly and circle round you a few times before actually thinking of doing anything. With a bit of patience you can judge their movements and give them a good whack with your hand. If you’re sharp enough you can whack them and then they will hit the ground in turn, giving them a double whack. After one or two of those they usually leave you alone.
So eventually the hike proper starts and it’s kind of through a wood on the side of this volcano. The earth is quite volcanic – dark grey, dusty, a few rocks – and there’s this strange spongy, wiry vegetation that lives on it. There’s no great incline this time and given that there’s no time pressure like there was before, I take it at a much more relaxed pace. In the trees it’s cooler too so there’s less discomfort from that.
There are a few good views of the volcano from the trek even though its peak is covered in cloud today. A one point the trees stop and it’s just volcanic, rocky ground as I presume a river of lava had formerly cut its way through the trees at one point. There’s a good view of the surrounding hills from there. This is of course part of the Ring of Fire that surrounds the Pacific. Luckily this volcano is dormant.
Eventually I get to the other side and to a main road. I walk further up it to a place where there is an official park for some waterfalls. You have to pay to get in but as I only have 10,000 Chilean pesos the guy at the counter lets me in for free, which is nice. The water has a deep turquoise colour here and it looks pretty good, though I imagine it would be better in winter when there is more snow and water to add to the effect. I take a bunch of photos.
Just as I leave the park I see the bus back to Puerto Varas which is a miracle, as they come about once every 45 minutes. On the bus are the Dutch guy and some of the other guys from the boat group who have just finished doing another trek.
I recuperate at the hostel and then meet up with the same group of guys again for another meal in the evening and drinks afterwards. There’s no partying in Puerto Varas and I’m tired once again so I happily go to bed.
Puerto Varas
Generally have a good night’s sleep. There is a bit of snoring from an old French guy but with a bit of mime I manage to get him to sleep on his side and it’s no longer a problem.
I decide to go on one of the hikes that the girl in the hostel told me about the day before, and get the bus to the edge of Volcan Orsorno. On the way I see my first llamas in South America, which is a big thing for me. Other than Iguazu, Machu Pichu, carnival, Galapagos and so on, llamas are the main attraction of South America for me.
So I get to the start of the hike and the first part is five kilometres up a road, which is a bit boring. Plus there are flies here. They’re big, about two centimetres long and one wide, but they’re a bit stupid. They move slowly and circle round you a few times before actually thinking of doing anything. With a bit of patience you can judge their movements and give them a good whack with your hand. If you’re sharp enough you can whack them and then they will hit the ground in turn, giving them a double whack. After one or two of those they usually leave you alone.
So eventually the hike proper starts and it’s kind of through a wood on the side of this volcano. The earth is quite volcanic – dark grey, dusty, a few rocks – and there’s this strange spongy, wiry vegetation that lives on it. There’s no great incline this time and given that there’s no time pressure like there was before, I take it at a much more relaxed pace. In the trees it’s cooler too so there’s less discomfort from that.
There are a few good views of the volcano from the trek even though its peak is covered in cloud today. A one point the trees stop and it’s just volcanic, rocky ground as I presume a river of lava had formerly cut its way through the trees at one point. There’s a good view of the surrounding hills from there. This is of course part of the Ring of Fire that surrounds the Pacific. Luckily this volcano is dormant.
Eventually I get to the other side and to a main road. I walk further up it to a place where there is an official park for some waterfalls. You have to pay to get in but as I only have 10,000 Chilean pesos the guy at the counter lets me in for free, which is nice. The water has a deep turquoise colour here and it looks pretty good, though I imagine it would be better in winter when there is more snow and water to add to the effect. I take a bunch of photos.
Just as I leave the park I see the bus back to Puerto Varas which is a miracle, as they come about once every 45 minutes. On the bus are the Dutch guy and some of the other guys from the boat group who have just finished doing another trek.
I recuperate at the hostel and then meet up with the same group of guys again for another meal in the evening and drinks afterwards. There’s no partying in Puerto Varas and I’m tired once again so I happily go to bed.
Running up That Hill
Saturday 30 January
Puerto Varas
First a quick postscript to the previous post about the hike in Bariloche. As I was walking back on the last part of the trek, I heard the sound of rocks being rolled along. I looked back and could see puffs of dust being thrown up into the air from somewhere near one of the peaks. It was an avalanche! Luckily it wasn’t anything too big or too near so I was in no danger. But it was cool to see an actual avalanche in progress.
Back to the advertised feature. To make up for the lack of food I had a nice large breakfast. I spoke to the people at the hostel to see what to do. There was a nice trek to do but to start with I thought I would wander around the town. Puerto Varas is situated on a large lake, and on the opposite side is a large volcano – Volcan Orsorno. It basically looks like Mount Fuji and is stunning. The town itself is a little piece of Germany – formerly a German colony, it has lots of German-named buildings and houses built at the start of the twentieth century in a German style. “Bariloche” is German for “A Whale’s...” – wait, no it isn’t. That’s San Diego.
At the western end of the lakeside there is a small hill with views over the lake. I walked up it and was happy that it was of course much, much easier than my previous walk up a hill. I arrived at the top and took a few photos.
After I came back down I wondered through the town looking for the traditional houses. I found one and went to take a photo ... and couldn’t find my camera! I checked all my pockets but I didn’t have it. It shouldn’t have been anywhere else than in my left trouser pocket where I always keep it. But it wasn’t there. It couldn’t have been stolen as I had hardly seen anyone, and none of them had been close enough to me to take it from me. I had to retrace my steps back to where I last took a photo – at the top of the hill – to see if I could find it somewhere.
Unlike normally I had a small local guidebook in my left pocket, and that must have caused me to feel that the camera was in there when it wasn’t, and probably stopped it from being placed in properly.
So trying to remain calm I walked back up the hill constantly scanning the ground in case I can see the camera anywhere. I thought it might be near where I swung from a tree branch, but it wasn’t. I continued retracing my steps and there, literally about a metre from where I took the photo, was the camera, on the ground, untouched. What a relief.
After that I try to book my bus from Bariloche to Buenos Aires but despite asking in a few places it seems I’m on a hiding to nothing so I give up. I take it easy for the rest of the afternoon and chill out in the hostel. I get talking to a Dutch guy who was part of a boat tour around southern Chile and I end up hanging out with him and other people from the tour in a bar for the evening. Have a great chat and meet some interesting people and a good time all round.
Head back at about midnight and fall fast asleep.
Puerto Varas
First a quick postscript to the previous post about the hike in Bariloche. As I was walking back on the last part of the trek, I heard the sound of rocks being rolled along. I looked back and could see puffs of dust being thrown up into the air from somewhere near one of the peaks. It was an avalanche! Luckily it wasn’t anything too big or too near so I was in no danger. But it was cool to see an actual avalanche in progress.
Back to the advertised feature. To make up for the lack of food I had a nice large breakfast. I spoke to the people at the hostel to see what to do. There was a nice trek to do but to start with I thought I would wander around the town. Puerto Varas is situated on a large lake, and on the opposite side is a large volcano – Volcan Orsorno. It basically looks like Mount Fuji and is stunning. The town itself is a little piece of Germany – formerly a German colony, it has lots of German-named buildings and houses built at the start of the twentieth century in a German style. “Bariloche” is German for “A Whale’s...” – wait, no it isn’t. That’s San Diego.
At the western end of the lakeside there is a small hill with views over the lake. I walked up it and was happy that it was of course much, much easier than my previous walk up a hill. I arrived at the top and took a few photos.
After I came back down I wondered through the town looking for the traditional houses. I found one and went to take a photo ... and couldn’t find my camera! I checked all my pockets but I didn’t have it. It shouldn’t have been anywhere else than in my left trouser pocket where I always keep it. But it wasn’t there. It couldn’t have been stolen as I had hardly seen anyone, and none of them had been close enough to me to take it from me. I had to retrace my steps back to where I last took a photo – at the top of the hill – to see if I could find it somewhere.
Unlike normally I had a small local guidebook in my left pocket, and that must have caused me to feel that the camera was in there when it wasn’t, and probably stopped it from being placed in properly.
So trying to remain calm I walked back up the hill constantly scanning the ground in case I can see the camera anywhere. I thought it might be near where I swung from a tree branch, but it wasn’t. I continued retracing my steps and there, literally about a metre from where I took the photo, was the camera, on the ground, untouched. What a relief.
After that I try to book my bus from Bariloche to Buenos Aires but despite asking in a few places it seems I’m on a hiding to nothing so I give up. I take it easy for the rest of the afternoon and chill out in the hostel. I get talking to a Dutch guy who was part of a boat tour around southern Chile and I end up hanging out with him and other people from the tour in a bar for the evening. Have a great chat and meet some interesting people and a good time all round.
Head back at about midnight and fall fast asleep.
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