Sharon and Andy's World Tour 2006

Thursday 24 - Tuesday 29 August

The flight from Salvador to Rio was terrific; comfy, great views from the plane's windows and above all, quick. Arriving in darkness in the downtown suburb of Botafago, we were pleased to see that after the basic digs of rural Brazil, our hostel here was equipped with a bar, pool table and internet access. We soon settled in.

By now the norm in our travels, we spent the first full day just exploring our surroundings; just being in Rio is pretty mindblowing, the city has a life of its own - it's hard to put the general "sunshinyness" of the place into words.

Despite the proximity of the beach, we instead headed to a nearby shopping mall (sad, yes); after much travel some of our garments had reached that make-or-break 'brittle' stage and so a search for replacements was in order.

And so we spent the day just mingling with the beautiful people, admiring the beach and Sugar Loaf Mountain from afar, taking in our surroundings and just generally hangin' out. And loving every minute of it.

Friday 25 August

Of course you can't just admire Sugar Loaf from afar; if you're in Rio you have to go up there. A half-hour stroll from our hostel brought us to the first of two cable-car stations, from where our steep but breathtaking ascent (actually, not breathtaking for Sharon; she had her eyes closed) began:

"Ooh - look at the tiny cars."

The cable-car to the first peak is only half the story; to reach the summit a second exhilarating ride is required...

...but of course the views at the top make the journey worthwhile.

It's not all scary cable-car rides and great views though; inevitably there are a number of cafes and gift shops, but other attractions include a pleasant walking trail and an example of a cable-car (and occupant) from the olden days.

Saturday 26 August

It's long been a dream of mine to visit Ipanema. Today my dream came true. Ipanema - the name conjures up visions of beautiful Brazilian people living a bohemian life against the backdrop of a stunning beach, the sun constantly shining, that song playing in the background...

I wasn't disappointed. Ipanema is simply lovely. Yes, the majority of the folk on the beach are beautiful; toned, bronzed, muscular blokes and tanned supermodel girls abound, but so do ordinary folk - and no-one seems to judge anyone else; everyone just fits in and gets along nicely.

Our hostel, surprisingly reasonable for such a reputedly jet-set location, was handily placed for the beach and the town. The bar (Garota da Ipanema) in which The Girl From Ipanema was written was just a ten-minute walk away.

With the sun beating down, a walk the length of the beach was in order followed by cool drinks in a hip(ish) bar and rounded off by a good meal in one of the many local restaurants.

Sunday 27 August

I was in two minds, but Sharon was adamant. We couldn't come to Brazil without witnessing an example of the beautiful game. The last time I'd witnessed live football was a game between Milwall and Sheffield Wednesday at the Old Den back in 1990, but I was sure that there'd be a world of difference between that match and a local Brazilian derby.

There's no doubt that the Maracana Stadium - one of the largest in the world - is impressive. Today's match was between Flamengo (at home) and Sao Paulo. Away supporters were definitely in the minority.

Gringos like us were seated away from the majority of hard-core supporters, but even so the vibe in the crowd was palpable and at times deafening; it was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement, hand-clapping and chanting. Excitement peaked when a few over-zealous Sao Paulo fans infiltrated the Flamengo stands - scuffles ensued, baton-wielding police appeared, and order (of sorts) was quickly restored.

Sadly though, the exhortations of the crowd could not elevate the standard of play and the mediocre match resulted in a disappointing 1-1 draw. We didn't mind; for us, the match was secondary to the experience.

Monday 28 August

Another of those must-see destinations in Rio is the enormous statue of Christ the Redeemer which sits atop the Corcavado (Hunchback) Mountain and overlooks the city. Our last day in Brazil, we signed up for a trip to this famous landmark but we got much more than we bargained for...

Our first stop seemed familiar - we were back at the Macarana Stadium! Still, we got to follow in some famous footsteps:

Next up was a 'stadium' of a different kind; the Sambadromo, a 1.5km long parade-ground which is home to the annual Samba School Parade - a competition between Rio's top Samba schools to showcase the best carnaval costumes, floats and displays.

Oh, if only we had the chance to try on some of those outrageously flamboyant carnaval costumes... OK, you're ahead of me:

Charles Hawtrey and Hattie Jaques in "Carry on Carnaval"

On a more sedate note, our next visit was to a rather unusual cathedral; a concrete edifice on the outside:

but with fabulous floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows inside

Finally we were on the long, winding drive up and up the Corcavado Mountain. Here we'd behold in all it's glory Christ the Redeemer, our last vision of Brazil, one of the most famous landmarks in the world, a lasting memory, a golden photo opportunity...

Oh bugger. Yup, after days of sunshine and clear blue skies, the fog descended. Well, it's the thought that counts.

Tuesday 29 August

And, once again, it was time to move on. Brazil had been great - fun and sunshine all the way. We'd managed to pack an awful lot into a brief time; no mean feat since we'd arrived in the country with no route planned and little idea as to what we wanted to do.

Now, owing to a quirk in our South American planning, we would fly back to Chile for a one-night pause before heading on to another new and exciting country - Peru

Monday 21 - Wednesday 23 August

An early start from Lencois bus station saw us on the 08:30 to Salvador. Salvador is a sprawling urban city with a 'historic' central area. Arriving around midday we jumped straight into a taxi (best not to hang around South American bus stations) and headed for the centre.
Historic Salvador consists of a central square surrounded by a labyrinthine jumble of narrow streets, some pedestrianised some not, but all teeming with tourists and - notably - lots of Tourist Police. The city has gained a reputation for petty crime against tourists, so the abundance of uniformed officers was a welcome sight. The taxi driver found navigating to our hostel (cunningly hidden in a traffic-inaccessible side street) decidedly tricky, so he deposited us in the adjoining road and vaguely gestured us toward our destination.
Once checked in it was time to join the other Gringos milling around, and take in some of historic Salvador's fine architecture.

As we wandered, we began to see why people describe this part of Salvador as "in your face" - heavily tourist-oriented, you are frequently accosted by beggars, money-changers and hawkers. Prostitutes are less than discreet, although they seem to be tolerated by the police.
Not wishing to venture too far today, we retreated to an excellent coffee shop (I'm a coffee addict, and good coffee shops had been in short supply lately) where we stopped to watch the world go by, and enjoyed a decent early evening meal.

Tuesday 22 August

Our route through Brazil had dictated the visit to Salvador; moving on from the Chapada Diamantina, Salvador was the next major city from which onward transport to Rio de Janeiro - our last stop in Brazil - could be arranged. Today, we faced buying the tickets for the thirty-hour bus journey to the capital; a prospect I was dreading. We made for the travel agent recommended by our hostel and were shown bus times and prices. On a whim, I asked for the price of an internal flight. Our man hastily tapped away at his internet connection and gave us the answer. We were astonished - a 90 minute flight cost just a few quid more than the unfeasibly long (and loathsome) bus trip. We handed over the cash without hesitation. Tomorrow we'd be flying down to Rio! No evil bus! Woo-hoo!
Immeasurably relieved, we spent the day exploring further, and riding Salvador's huge public elevator down to the city's lowest level to browse a large handicrafts market situated by the harbour.

Later, returning to the square and with camera in hand, we were accosted by four ladies in elaborate costumes; desciples of Brazil's Candomble religion. They happily posed for pictures with us,

then suggested we part with £20 for the privilege! They seemed happy enough with a fiver...

The general bustle, noise and attention from traders hungry for the tourist-dollar can get wearisome after a while, so this evening we were grateful to find an oasis of calm in the form of a second-floor restaurant near our hostel, from where we could observe the goings-on in the street below in hassle-free comfort.

Wednesday 23 August

A slight hitch this morning; we had to vacate our room at 11am, but weren't due at the airport until 4.30pm and the hostel wouldn't store our backpacks for us. Luckily, the place where we had breakfast would, and so we were free to spend our last few hours in Salvador browsing the varied shops and sights, revisiting last night's restaurant for lunch and - naturally - topping up the afternoon caffeine levels in the coffee shop. And then it was time to board our airport transfer, check in our luggage and be whisked into the night sky en route to the fun, sun and romance of Rio.

Historic Salvador

Thursday 17 - Sunday 20 August

Our latest overnight bus journey ended in the pretty town of Lencois early on a sunny Thursday afternoon. The cobbled streets and brightly painted rustic houses seemed a million miles away from the shiny, retro-space-age rat-race of Brasilia. The last rush in Lencois - for diamonds - ended 100 years ago, leaving behind a picturesque, friendly and relaxed town.

As soon as we stepped onto the platform of the tiny bus station a man approached us and asked where we were staying. Accustomed to hotel touts at bus stations, we gave him the name of the hostel we'd booked. Immediately, our man made a phone call and gestured us to wait. Minutes later, another man materialised and guided us through a maze of winding backstreets to our hostel; what service!

After being cooped-up in Brasilia and spending more time on a cramped overnight bus it was time to stretch our legs again and so we booked a hike to the Cachoeira da Fumaca (Smoke Falls) - Brazil's highest waterfall - for the following day.

Friday 18 August

Our guide for the day, Jorge, arrived at the hostel bright and early and herded us into a minibus for the two-or-so-hour journey to the Vale do Capao, our starting point for a 12 kilometre round-trip walk into the hills outside Lencois to the waterfall.

Once again, the day was hot and sunny and despit Jorge explaining that the walk could be taken 'at our own pace' we ended up trying to keep up with the energetic few leading the way. But, as ever, the effort was rewarded by the wonderful scenery:

The waterfall itself is named 'Smoke Falls' because the water is dispersed into a fine mist by the wind as it falls over 1000 feet to the ground. As the sun catches this fine water mist, a beautiful rainbow appears...

Hot, bothered, dry and dusty, Jorge led us back down into the valley and on to one final stop; a large pool beneath yet more waterfalls where it was easy to cool down...

Back in Lencois, we rounded the day off with 'cooling down' of a different kind in one of the alfresco bars dotted around the cobbled town square.

Saturday 19 August

Something (hopefully) a bit more relaxing today. A nearby wetland area of the Chapada Diamantina region called Marimbus is reputed to resemble the Pantanal; having enjoyed that place so much we just had to take a look...

Today's guide was Eric, and he drove us and another couple 18 kilometres along a bouncy red-dirt road to our starting point at the river village of Remanso. Here we boarded canoes and took a leisurely two-hour paddle along the mirror-calm Marimbus River, passing through sections of dense vegetation and negotiating the occasional fork in the river until we reached what appeared to be a small beach.

On Eric's advice, we removed our sandals and stepped onto the sand; in the midday sun it was scalding! We quickly hopped to the water's edge and followed it.

A short walk along a wooded track eventually brought us to our next destination, a series of pools interconnected by waterfalls where the Rio Roncador and the Rio Sao Jose meet.

The noise generated by these falls has earned the Rio Roncador the nickname 'Snoring River'.

In the heat, no-one wasted time in stripping down to swimmers and enjoying the cool waters, with Eric giving an impromptu (and dangerous looking) diving demonstration.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeee!"

The time came for our return, and Eric decided that he would show us an 'alternative' route back to the path that would eventually lead us back to the kayaks. Unfortunately, we didn't realise that Eric was making up this alternative route as he went along and thus we found ourselves clambering over high rocky promontories and slippery sections of river bed. Despite the grazed shins and battered feet, our enthusiasm peaked when Eric explained that we were in the midst of the diamond fields, and that tourists had been known to find decent-sized specimens. No such luck for us though...

Sunday 20 August

And so, a lazy Sunday. The idea of booking another tour crossed our minds, but the office in the hostel seemed shut for the day. As we sat in the communal area wondering how to spend our day, we started chatting to David, a fellow traveller who was (is?) motorbiking his way around the world. Being of a social nature, we cracked a few beers and began sharing anecdotes of our travels and travails. Before we knew it, a pile of cans had mounted before us, and the afternoon was wearing on for evening. Our last evening in Lencois; we´d had a great time here, and to finish off we returned to a restaurant that we´d discovered a couple of nights earlier which does a cracking Thai red curry. Tomorrow, we would move on to Salvador - a town that David and another traveller had warned us would be ¨in your face¨.

Lencois by night

Sunday 13 - Wednesday 16 August

Arriving back in Campo Grande, our first priorities were to have a hot (yay!) shower, and to take care of our whiffy Pantanal laundry. Brazil being the huge country that it is, we couldn't afford to hang around and so we booked two tickets for this evening's overnight bus (ugh!) to Brasilia.

By the time we'd completed our domestic duties and undertaken a bit of essential shopping, Sunday had passed and we found ourselves boarding the bus and heading into the night.

Monday 14 August

We'd found it inexplicably difficult to find any available budget accommodation in Brasilia, even though there must be loads. Thus we ended up in one of those anonymous, business-traveller-oriented chain-hotels on the outskirts of Brazil's dynamic capital city.

Arriving in the early afternoon, we spent the afternoon checking out the facilities offered by the hotel (well OK, the restaurant and bar), before turning in for an early night to recover from last night's bus journey.

Tuesday 15 August

This morning we jumped aboard the hotel's courtesy bus which took us to a large nearby shopping mall. With more long bus journeys ahead, we were pleased to discover a decent bookshop and more grateful still to find a Portuguese phrasebook; the hotel staff spoke English just about as well as we speak Portuguese...

Brasilia is famed for its and stylish 'retro-modern' architecture; the work of a single, gifted designer - Oscar Niemeyer. Travelling through the city we were able to admire some of his weird but definitely wonderful visions:

Wednesday 16 August

Seemingly no sooner than we had arrived in Brasilia, our brief stopover was ending. Another overnight bus beckoned, taking us this time to a small town called Lencois and soon we were speeding along Brasilia's impressive highways and taking our last looks at this unique city.

Brasilia's 'domino-like' Government Department buildings

Tuesday 8 - Saturday 12 August

We stepped out of the bus station in Campo Grande and almost straight into the hostel-cum-tour agency with which we'd booked our Pantanal trip. Stopping only for a quick (but welcome) shower and lunch, we hastened aboard a minibus with a dozen other folk for the five hour trip to the camp ground.

Two hours into the journey we heard a loud grinding sound, and a shocked squeal from the back seat of the minibus; the trailer we'd been towing which contained everyone's backpacks and our evening meal had sheared off and careered onto the grass verge at the side of the road, catapulting personal belongings and food over a wide radius!
After a quick rescue effort (no hope for several pulverised water melons), the remaining food and bags were squeezed onto the bus, and the damaged trailer abandoned.

Spirits were high, though, as we reached the lush swamps of the Pantanal at sunset and glimpsed the first of the wildlife we would encounter over the next few days.

Wednesday 9 August

'Home' was a long dormitory containing about a dozen hammocks; as first-time hammockers we were suprised by how comfy they were and awoke refreshed and ready for an early morning's walk.

Our cosy dorm in the Pantanal

Getting to and from places around the camp meant bouncing along heavily rutted 'roads' in an open-backed lorry; great fun, but a bit sore on the backside.

Our first walk took us through shady woodland and our guide, Paulo, entertained us by demonstrating how to obtain drinking-water from vines, make natural mosquito-swatters and how to identify various plants. Sadly, with the Pantanal's dry season approaching its height, the walk was punctuated by the occasional discovery of a dead or dying cow, starved to immobility by the lack of edible vegetation.

Returning through the woods, Paulo cut some metre-long green leaves from a plant and gave each of us us one to take back to camp; after lunch, he skilfully stripped each leaf down to fibres, and wove them into necklaces adorned with a polished seed. We were impressed!

"It'll look like a necklace when I've finished, Luv. Honest."

With the hot Brazilian sun beating down on us, we were glad of a relaxing boat trip in the afternoon. Gliding downriver we met some old friends:

also a basking iguana,

and many kingfishers, herons, egrets and other birds.

Back at camp, everyone took a cold shower (seemingly the only kind in South America!) and spent the evening swapping stories around a roaring campfire, in the company of fireflies and assorted free-roaming animals.

Thursday 10 August

In fact, the pigs and goats around camp were a little too free; in the small hours they rooted around the unlit camp, making eerie snuffling and scratching noises... at least, we hoped it was the pigs and goats.

Disturbed sleep was soon forgotten though, when at breakfast we spotted wild toucans perching in the trees around camp. Another spot of horse-riding this morning (I'm becoming a pro by now) through open fields and woodland. We'd heard that a group of riders had happened upon a large anaconda the previous day, but we had no such luck, although we did see these incredible Hyacinth Macaws.

The ride was serene (thanks, in part, to the continual stopping of my eternally hungry horse) and provided further opportunity to take in the tranquil beauty of the Pantanal.

~~~~~~~~~~

How does the idea of wading waist deep into a piranha-filled swamp grab you? This afternoon's piranha-fishing was the most nervously anticipated activity of them all. Armed with a simple bamboo fishing rod and bits of raw chicken as bait, we tentatively crept into the cool, black, weed-entangled water.

"Look everyone, I've caught a nice hanging-basket."

Mud squished between our toes and unseen 'things' brushed past our legs. Repressing the urge to run away and/or faint, we cast our lines and suddenly - a tug, a flick, and WOW! live piranha dangled from our hooks! Catching the little devils turned out to be fairly easy - the swamp was teeming - and trepidation soon gave way to competition as we reeled in more and more of the ferocious fish. Between six of us we caught thirty; these were hastily 'spiked' on a sharp stick to be taken back to camp and prepared for tomorrow's lunch.

Piranha: nasty.

The catch of the day. Holding some Piranha fish.

Returning in the lorry to pick up the afternoon's horse-riding group, we had the opportunity to feed some 'spare' piranha to a few friendly locals...

"No, I'm not going to stroke his head."

Friday 11 August

Another walk this morning, this time through forest and swampland. "Probably best," suggested our guide, "to do this barefoot so you don't get your boots wet". Foolishly, I agreed and left my boots and socks in the lorry. Big mistake. The sensation was comparable to walking on hot, loose Lego bricks for three hours... but we did get to see yet more wildlife including a large owl. Still none of the expected anacondas, anteaters or armadillos though.

Emerging from woods into a clearing, it dawned on our guide that we were lost. Alarmingly, he decided that the best way back involved crossing a previously untraversed area of swamp.

A shallow patch of swamp. Lovely.

Wading in behind him, we became more alarmed when he spotted a large caiman slip under the water nearby. "Just follow me," he said, "It'll be okay". And thankfully it was, although we wasted no time in scrambling up the bank on the far side of the swamp, where to our surprise we emerged onto the road about two-hundred metres from where our lorry was parked.

Lunch today was delicious:

Piranha: tasty.

Given a choice of activity for this afternoon, we opted for another trip down the river in order to rest my battered feet. The sky being slightly overcast, we didn't see quite as much animal life as on the first trip but our afternoon was no less pleasureable than before.

Saturday 12 August

Our last day in the Pantanal. A place where the weather had been glorious, the scenery beautiful and the wildlife unforgettable. A place that we never even knew existed until arriving in Brazil less than a week ago.

Time, then, for one last walk. Setting off from the place we had picked up the horses for riding, we walked through open fields and small wooded copses. Alas, a hoped-for anaconda sighting was not to be (although we had encountered a dead snake, and a small snake which fell out of a tree and quickly slithered away). In fact it didn't seem as though we were going to see much at all until, deep in a shaded wood, our guide held up his hand for silence and pointed us toward...

...this cute armadillo. Normally, these animals are incredibly shy and hard to spot out of their burrows so we felt pretty privileged to see this one.

At two o'clock we were on the lorry which would take us to the edge of the Pantanal to meet our minibus back to Campo Grande, and once again this was a place we were sorry to be leaving. By dusk, we were back on the main highway, the wildlife far behind us. Or so we thought; in the fading light a large grey anteater calmly trotted from one side of the busy carriageway to the other, seemingly oblivious to the traffic around him.