El Fuerte

After a lazy breakfast we (the five of us) were picked up by Frank to go on a trip to the local place to visit. It is called El Fuerte because the Spanish thought it was a fort. However, current thinking is that it was a place of high worship. Eric von Daniken claims it is an alien landing site - go figure.

The real shame isn't that some nutter made a mint out of stupid stories - it is that the soft sandstone is being worn away before your very eyes. No real effort at preservation and no-one seems to have taken impressions of the carvings. Many have already disappeared since records began.

El Fuerte

We had to walk around a bit here and it got a bit hot. At one point we stopped to look at a woodpecker only to discover that T and I had stepped on an ant nest. By the time we realised they were up our trousers and everywhere - yuck. It wasn't funny.

Stop laughing.

On the drive back down, we stopped to look at the rock face. T instantly spotted the face in the rock. Frank (our guide) had to point out the second one for us though. Can you spot it?

See the face(s)?

Our vehicle was a very old, but still workable, Toyota Land Cruiser. We have seen many of them here in Bolivia.

Toyota Land Cruiser

By common consent we decided to eat lunch together in a German/Hungarian restaurant. I had Goulash made with pork, T had the special of the day: Mexican beef. Many beers were sunk and Frank's girlfriend came to join us. It was a lovely day.

Hungarian Lunch

On the way beck to the hotel we stopped at a hostel to buy the bus tickets to Sucre. We had been advised (by real travellers) that one place sold them for 90 Bs (6 quid) and the other for 120 Bs (9 quid). So we went to the cheapest place. Of Course.

Silly us.

Samaipata

We left Santa Cruz for a two hour taxi ride to Samaipata. This taxi cost us 100 Bolivianos - that's about 7 quid. After a while we noticed that the taxi wasn't conventional:

There is something wrong here

Apparently this is quite common. Bolivia gets cheap second hand Japanese cars and converts them for local use. Obviously only the important things get moved. On those sort of roads, the speedo is only of academic interest anyway.

We stayed in a lovely place just outside town. Our room was very expensive (15 quid a night) and had a real fire in it. Although it was quite chilly outside, we were nice and toasty in beside the fire.

We met a French photographer and a South African couple (ex Manchester) and had lovely evenings by the fire chatting.

Build a Fire

Samaipata isn't a big place.

Middle of nowhere

The place we stayed at also had a magnificent cafe. Only open until 6pm, but very fresh tasty food. I was somewhat taken aback one lunchtime when my toastie arrived!

The smallest toastie in the world

All in all, we liked Samaipata. We ended up spending three nights there.

Santa Cruz

We were up at the crack of dawn (before the breakfast we had paid for!) and off to the airport for our around the world (Brazil, Paraguay and Bolivia anyway) trip to Santa Cruz. We stopped at Sao Paulo (change planes); Asuncion (change planes) and Cochabamba before arriving at the airport in Santa Cruz. Amazingly, our luggage got there with us.

Santa Cruz was cold. It was unseasonably cold, but it was a taste of things to come. The reception guy at the hotel spoke excellent English and helped us in every way he could. We had a heater for our room.

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is an interesting city. It rapidly expanded on drugs money and, although that has mostly stopped or gone underground, the city has an air of wealth and sophistication that wasn't expected in Bolivia (and hasn't been seen elsewhere).

For the first time since Panama airport we saw electronic goods that would be at home on the UK high street.

We took the opportunity to get T's phone unlocked and both of us chips - for less than 7 quid.

By accident, we walked down the hairdresser's street. T pushed me in; sat me down and laughed at me, oh - and took pictures. The chap thought we were nuts. One haircut - two quid.

Anything for the weekend sir?

We had a set lunch in the cafe opposite the hotel. Four courses for a quid.

We did have a bit of fun at the post office. They decided to tell us what we needed, one thing at a time. I had quite a good rapport with the chap outside who sold brown paper; sellotape and all the other stuff we needed. That's our third box back home - I wonder how many will get there :-)

Rio revisited

After much umming and ahhing, we decided to go on a Favela tour. I'm not sure what I expected from a Favela, but what we were shown (we saw 2 of about 750; Vila Canoas and Rocinha) was certainly not what I expected.

Vila Canoas was first, we were taken to a school and an Internet/Computer teaching room. The whole set-up was overseen by an Italian who had been the head of a big Brazilian company and he had got sponsorship from many (mostly European) sources. To assuage our guilt, some of our tour money also went to support the school.

Recently the government has changed their policy from trying to ignore or eradicate the Favelas to trying to bring them up to scratch. This one has sanitation, water, electricity, phones, street names, rubbish collection and lots of other things that one might expect in a 'normal' place. The biggest difference is that the 'streets' are very narrow and that they are built in a very three dimensional manner.

A 'street' in a favela

As you can see, the addition of power and telecommunications has been done in a rather haphazard manner.

Enough to give BT a headache

We then got back in the bus and went to Rocinha. It was one of the ones we had seen when we first got to Rio, as it was on the way to Barra de Tijuca. It was amazing. About 200 yards in and it was like you were transported to Guatemala. Run down shops, dirty streets and people everywhere. We were told that we were perfectly safe, but not to take pictures here and not to go there and that kind of thing. The drugs folks are in charge in there and they don't like tourists (or journalists or policemen) taking pictures of them at work.

We then ascended to the heights of Rocinha and got some amazing views.

Favela fills the valley

Rio is curious in that the poor people live on the hill and the rich live down below.

Rooftop with a view

All in all, it was interesting, not as scary as one is led to believe and not voyeuristic - just like the brochure promised.

Once back in town, we went for a nice lunch in a bookshop and bought some Brazilian music (which hasn't grown on me as much as the Tango stuff I got in Argentina has) and a couple of books.

We then went to book our flight to Bolivia and sat on Ipanema beach in the freezing cold waiting for them. On the way back to the travel agency we got diverted into the bar where the song "Girl from Ipanema" was written. The food was OK; the caipirinhas were good (apparently) and the argument on the table behind us was entertaining.

Early to bed - early to rise.

Ilha Grande

In Paraty, T sent an email to one of her friends, Helen, who, apparently, was still in Brazil. Brazil is quite a big place (5th largest country in the world), so we were quite surprised to find out that she was 36 miles away from us on Ilha Grande. Of course, 36 miles means a two hour bus trip and a one hour boat trip - but 36 miles is pretty damned close.

After much email back and forward-age, we arrived on the quay to be met by Helen and a local chap who calls himself William Wallace (who knows, it might be his name). William made himself very popular by carrying T's bags up the hill (big, big hill). We then played dice and drank beer whilst the girls chatted 10 to the dozen.

William told us that he worked for the army as a protector of dignitaries and that he had lived in London and that he used to be a tour guide in the Pantanal and some other things too. A quick google search on "william wallace" "ilha grande" comes up with some other stories he has told. He appears to be a local character.

After a chilly night, we got up to go to the beach. It was worth it.

Say hello, Wave goodbye

After a day at the beach, a few caipirinhas are in order, before catching the boat back to town and flashing the boat.

Caipirinhas ahoy

As we decided to stay a third night and the island has no ATM and T wanted a bit of peace and quiet; I was dispatched to the town to get some cash. Whilst I was there I saw a church parade. It was quite interesting, but not worth a 3 hour round trip in itself.

Helen's House

At some point during the stay, the wind blew down the mirror in the bathroom and smashed it. That's 7 years bad luck for the wind then. I repaired it with sellotape.

Helen's ipod had been nicked in Rio, so we bought some blank CDs and I spent a happy couple of hours burning some new music for her, so as to give her something to listen to.

On the threshold

Helen finally got her peace and quiet back as we headed back to Rio. We got the quick trip back, which was much appreciated. We were dropped off where we liked but the hotel we chose wasn't up to scratch, so we checked into another (which turned out to be the main gay hotel, situated as it was on the cruising street - as I found out from the guide book later). T has been warned not to make any new gay best friends and, after Neto and Ben in Paraty, I thought this might have been a deliberate ploy, she swears it was completely accidental.

Paraty

Tripadvisor states that the best hotel in Paraty is Bambu Bamboo. We decided to book it for a couple of nights. After a reasonably quiet bus ride to town (there were some small issues getting tickets, but nothing that we weren't capable of overcoming) we were deposited at the guest house. Neto and Ben welcomed us and offered beers, tea etc... Neto is Brazilian and Ben is from the Wirral, Bambu Bamboo is their retirement plan and they are doing a magnificent job of it. Even dodgy hot water and ongoing construction work (of Paraty's first Spa, dontcha know) didn't upset us.

Once it transpired that I knew how to turn a computer on - I was commissioned to work for beer.

Paraty itself was quite pretty. They were having a fiesta.

Portugese drainage in Paraty

The church at the bottom of town is one of the images of Brazil - apparently. The last couple of blocks seem to be deliberately flooded at high tide - quite bizarre - perhaps this is an olden-times sewage mechanism. Anyway, it isn't used for that now- it just looks a bit strange having buildings in flooded streets.

Pretty girl, pretty church, flooded street

We met a couple of Brits with their baby daughter and it turned out that they lived in Bolivia and loved the place. They made sure we knew all the sights to see and all the places to go. T did a bit of baby sitting whilst they relaxed and ate a pizza (and I fixed computers).

Apart from the unseasonably cold weather (the pool was freezing) we really enjoyed our time in Paraty and wholly support the Tripadvisor recommendation. We stayed an extra night.

Rio de Janeiro - tourist day three

So, we awoke slightly the worse for wear and talked about the events of the previous evening. T gradually remembering that she had decided to stay in Rio for a month; get an apartment; learn Portuguese and take Samba classes. It would seem that I had fewer beer tokens than she had Caiparinha tokens, as I wisely decided to agree with her - until the morning.

Nursing sore heads, we decided to relax by taking the bus down town. Let's just say that the spirit of Ayrton Senna is alive and well and seems to be a pre-requisite for any aspiring Rio Bus driver. Going around the Botafogo bay at break-neck speeds, trying to control the amount of rear wheel drift whilst trying to overtake another bus is something that should be confined to video games. If The GTA (Grand Theft Auto) team ever to a Rio based game then the bus will be the fastest vehicle in the game.

We downed some black aspirin after getting off the bus and decided what to do next. T visited a church and then we went on the ferry to the city on the other side of the bay, got off, got on and came back. The views of Rio were OK (a bit cloudy) but there was nowhere to take any pictures from.

We then walked around the down town area a few times, spiralling in on our target - the street car to Santa Teresa. It was rickety and fun. The local lads obviously think that sitting down is for wooses and stood on the running board. One lad thought it was fun to jump off every now and then and run along - in flip-flops.

We alighted halfway down and had a traditional Brazilian meal in a lovely cafe.

Appetites sated, we decided to go for a drink on Copacabana beach. Barry Manilow was not in sight - but these three guys more than made up for it.

Serenaded on Copacabana

Whilst we slaked our thirsts, we watched a bunch of lads building a football pitch, which seemed to involve digging great lumps of iron into the sand. Sadly they didn't play for us.

Moving the Goalposts

Just to say we had, we stood on Copacabana Beach. Here is the proof.

Sandy feet

And so to bed (we got a taxi, the bus option wasn't really discussed.)

Rio de Janeiro - tourist day two

A lazy morning was required, despite the room being quite musty, we settled in for a bit. We did do something useful - we got our washing done. Our most expensive laundry to date - nearly 11 quid. And, much to T's embarrasment, they insisted on counting each dirty item, so smalls we scattered over the counter - ugh.

We then set off for our football tour to the Maracana. We saw Botafogo playing Atletico - Botafogo won 2-1.

Maracana Stadium

After the match, the whole group of us (2 Brits, 4 Finns and a Swede) decided to go to a local Samba club. I'm not sure who knew where it was, but the minibus driver and tour guide almost made us sign in blood that we were OK being dropped off there and not back at the hotels. The place was very nice - we were the only locals and we found out that it was the 2 year anniversary of the opening.

Drinks were sold by token, so there was a little kiosk where you can get tokens and then present them to the bar. This concept is quite popular in Brazil, but is alot easier to order beer with than to specify a particular sandwich which you can't see or point at to the payment kiosk.

Beer Token

The band seemed to be a fluid group of people who sat down at a table for a bit - played a bit, drank alot and then let the next one in. The music was enjoyable - but I'm not sure I can remember any of it now. (might be due to the quantity of beer tokens I bought).

Samba Band

T was adopted by a group of women who turned out to be four generations from the same family. They were having a whale of a time, and after the Nth Caiparinha token, so was T

You're my Best Mate

We managed to get back to the hotel, accompanied by our adopted Swede, without being murdered. A fun night was had by all.

Too busy to blog

Sorry all, we have been quite poor in our blogging duties recently. You can expect full updates (with pix) sometime in about a week or so. However, this is a quick view of what you're waiting for ...

• Another day in Rio - football and Samba
  
• Paraty
  
• Ilha Grande and a meeting
  
• Back to Rio and a Favela
  
• Flight to Bolivia
  
• Santa Cruz
  
• Samaipata and an alien landing site
  
• Nightmare bus
  
• Sucre and the dinosaurs
  
• Potosi and the trip booking
  

And for the next week or so, we have ...

• Mines
  
• Uyuni
  
• High lakes
  
• Flamingoes
  
• Salt Flats
  
• Salt Hotels
  
• Train
  
• La Paz
  

Hasta Luego