It was an itsy-bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot bikini.......

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Oi!!
Hello again to anyone still tracking my whereabouts. We made it across the Atlantic after too nice a break at home. It made it quite hard to leave again, but here I am starting the other half of my trip, the final barrier between me and "real life".
We flew into Rio de Janeiro where we spent a few days to readjust and get back into the art of backpacking. It´s harder than you guys think. We found an "alright" hotel in the Catete region of Rio (translates as cheaper and less than sparkly). Having gone to bed at 7.30 pm on our first night, absolutely crackered from flying, we were unexpectedly woken by knocking on our door, by a lady bringing us breakfast!! How cool is that? It was a stale roll with jam and bitter coffee, but nice enough all the same and us beggers can´t be choosers. Our room even had a little balcony overlooking the street below.

With the feeling of excitement to explore Rio, we ventured out being so much on our guard for the notorious pick pockets or ruses that we may fall victim to. No fear there though, as it was a really relaxed atmosphere and totally laid-back, even for being so busy. However, I could tell it was going to be no walk in the park, as the little Spanish I´d tried to learn was useless, being Portuguese in Brazil. Not so similar either...
Our first mission was to get Sarah a bikini, as this was to become hopefully our uniform for the next few months and Asia had mauled her other ones. We wandered the shops and hopped on the metro to the posher district where the prices of clothes were surprisingly high. We expected things to be so much cheaper than home, but no such luck. We even ended up in C&A would you believe? We strolled the beachfront, also expecting to see the scantily clad modelesque bronze beauties and walking thongs, but no, not so much. The only people brave enough to bare were the walking leather suitcases, donning very tiny tight pants, with a spilling gut, sporting an aura of hair that makes the myth about the Yeti seem very believable. Ugh, no one needs to see that. Still, that made us feel better, at least we hadn´t fallen to become shadows of these Brazilian Goddesses yet. Once we actually found Sarah a bikini, which took quite some doing, there are far fewer bikinis than you´d expect for a city on the coast and those that are, seem like you don´t get much for your money, held together by the smallest bits of material, it´s enough to make me blush thinking about it. How much can four triangles cost?! (That´s only the generously proportioned ones). Though some are like little works of art, the detail and materials that go into making these fantastic beachwear, it´s a shame to get them wet. I feel it´s more for posing than actually splashing around in the waves or going rock-pooling.....

Whilst waiting for Sarah in the changing room, I had the hideous humiliation of being forced into trying a bikini over my clothes in the middle of the shop. Not only did I find this ultimately embarrassing being dressed like a stubborn child by this enthusiastic lady, but it was a ghastly bikini that squashed me to look like a butch triathalon swimmer, or some undergarment used in theatre to make women appear like men. Bah!, I smiled politely as she held the tiny pants against my crotch and said maybe I´d think about it.....
Still, with one successful bikini, we were able to hit the beach at "Copa...Copacabana......"I never tired of singing that in my head. I loved it. The wide beach fringed the front of the hotels and the clear water waves rolled consistently. It was not paradise, but nice. The water was shockingly fresh. Unfortunately I didn´t see Barry M strutting his funky stuff, which is actually a blessing, but his sprirt of music and dancing was with me.
We spent another day going to Corvelo Mountain. This is where a huge statue of Jesus stands with his arms outstretched embracing Rio below. We took a time to get there, ending up in the Central square of Rio, which was probably our most vulnerable place, as it was busy and we didn´t know where to go. Luckily a guy in uniform, who knows what for, helped us in English!!! We soon had a crowd of people around us, trying to be nosy, or sell us something, but I kept thinking, it´s now we´ll be robbed and so clutched my bag so tight that not even a hurricane could take it away from me, as Sarah hurriedly pointed at the sky (aiming for the statue behind her) asking him to help her find Jesus. It was hilarious, especially looking at the guard´s face, probably thinking we were had seen the light, or that we were a few sandwiches short. Still, once we´d clarified oursleves we were ona bus to Jesus. Half the fun, was to go up by tram, a quirky little feature, through woodland and park. We passed many bizarre statues of animals; ants, cats and snakes, that made it seem like part of an Alice in Wonderland ride. Nearing the top, we passed a few more religious icons. There were a few flights of stairs (or escalators!!) going up into the sky, passing the gimmicky tac en route, but as we neared the top, Jesus came into view, looming from above and it really was very impressive. I felt like one of those people on the postcards and indeed probably became one as we got caught in so many photos. There was a constant queue for people to be right underneath and have photos taken, it was a bit of a battle. I tried to get Sarah to tickle his armpits. It was then that we became most uncouth, as I noticed a small chapel actually inside the statue and so it remained how we were about to enter Jesus from the rear, go inside his back passage..take him from behind....how unsaintly!

My birthday (Nov 12th), was spent waking early in time to beat the knock at the door from our lady with breakfast, so she didn´t see the usual bed head monster that morning. We were getting a bus to a port a few hours away, to hopefully get a ferry over to the island of Ilha Grande, just south of Rio. Not the best way to spend a birthday sure, but my day was already made from hearing both Mum and Dad wish me a happy one, as I share it with Mum too. The marvels of communication eh? and one of the few places my phone has worked abroad! So after a very rainy swervy bus journey we made it to a very basic port, more like a fisherman´s dock and chose betweeen the rickety exposed ferry that left in an hour,or the even more rickety older fishing boat that left pronto. We chose the former,wrapping our raincoats around us as we shivered me timbers up on the semi-covered deck.....so not what I imagined Brazil to be like.....anyway, the journey was smooth enough, passing some really pretty islands and coastlines. I managed to control my urge to steal the most adorable puppy that was asleep in font of me, to negotiate my way to shore. With pouring rain in our eyes it was hard enough to see in front of us, let alone actually work out where to go. We had no idea. Thankfully a young lady came to our rescue just before an old dodgy sea salt did and guided us towards her guesthouse (pousada).
Her door was sandwiched between two shops,leading up some steps to an open lounge and dining area, with a couple of doors to bedrooms. The one we preferred had a bunk bed and a double,complete with bathroom and tv and little extas like picures and lamps. It was all really clean, neat and modern, a girly house and the price included breakfast with the mention of cake!! Sounds ideal, but unfortunately we´d picked festival weekend, meaning she could only put us up for 3 nights, when we´d hoped for 4 or more. So in hope with finding somewhere for longer we had to risk finding another home. We searched for a while, but in the pouring rain it was dismal enough and after a few tries we realised everywhere was either full for the next week, or shut down to enjoy a holiday. Well, back to our lady we went, pleased to have such a nice place, even if only for a few days.
Once settled, I opened my Dad´s very thoughtful present of balloons and popped the cork on a botle of CHAMPS! that Sarah had cunningly bought. (Bless her, Sarah knows that most Lucas occassions involve an early morning drink but this morning had been a bit chaotic to savour it). After a few plastic cups of bubbles and puffed balloons later,we experienced the soberingly cold shower that only the bottle of Martini awaiting me on my bunk could warm us up!! Complete with sparklers and straws!!! What better birthday to have spread between Rio in the morning and an island in the evening?! I went to bed with a smile!

In the morning we went to our balcony where the biggest spread of breakfast was put out. I thought the roll had been good, but here was tea/coffee, juice, rolls, cheese and ham (not so much), jam, fruit, cereal, biscuits and cake!! I couldn´t believe it, who actually made cake a legal breakfast item?! Trouble was, we´re not used to eating much, if anything at all that early on, so we nibbled a little bit of most things but cheekily made up a couple of rolls for later!!
Outside, the day was a bit chilly to be honest, but nice enough to walk around some of the island. The little streets were cobblestone and the shops were unusual boutiques of craftshops selling seaside trinkets. There was a man with a cartload of slices of cakes and desserts and so many little puppies wandering around. This was truly paradise. Once I´d recovered from such temptations we explored a route hugging the coast, leading ino the forest. Within moments we´d come to the ruins of an old quarentine camp that was so eerie it would make a brilliant scary movie set. We continued along and passed tiny monkeys that were so tame in the trees and red squirrels. Huge blue/black butterflies danced above our heads as we sat next to a gushing waterfall....I loved it.
We headed back, spending the later afternoon on the beachfront planning our trip (well Sarah was as I played with a puppy).
We´d been told that there´s a famous beach two and a half hours´ from our little village, called Lopes Mendes. How Brazilian is that?! What a walk it was. We scrambled through jungle, up and down, across other beaches, up rocks, following scrawled sign posts to this spot. I´d seen guys with surfboads en route, but as the waters I´d seen so far were still enough to use as mirrors, I wondered where they were off to. Soon enough I realised as we felt the sand soften beneath our feet, the trees lirerally parted in a paradise mirage to reveal the whitest stretch of beach ever with gorgeous waves rolling in. Ah,this is what we signed up for. Having worked up a sweat to get there, I ripped off my boardies and ran to the sea...ohmygoodness...it takes your breath far away! How cold??!! Wading further until my legs had frozen from the thigh down, they tingled as I lost all blood circulation from the feet upwards. Croyde´s warmer than this. Still, I´d walked this far, I was damn well going to stay in for a bit. It was only when I became stripped of my bikini from the somewhat full-on waves that I decided it was a good time to retreat.
Unfortunately we could only stay a couple of hours as we had the beastly walk back and didn´t fancy getting caught in the jungle in the dark.

Our time had come round oh so soon to be getting the ferry back. Again it seemed fitting leaving in the rain as we´d arrived. We managed to get the next bus to Paraty, our next desination a few hours along the coast. It was a struggle getting onto the bus as a turnstile was put at the entrance (incidentally at the back of the bus),which is no good for a short-arse like me, donning a mother of a backpack on my back. The dude on the tickets had to lift me up by my pack, so my feet dangled just above the floor and somehow I squidged myself through like fat Winnie the Pooh getting caught in Rabbit´s door.
Anyway,worried for what lack of accommodation or priciness we were in for, we arrived in Paraty in the oh so persistent rain and were guided by the tourist guy to hte cheapest availability of way above our budget...like double...and that´s without breakfast. Damn this festival. Still, not put off, we were sure we´d find something and indeed we did. Ok, not as inviting, or bright, warm, or added touches, or breakfast, but a bed each in a room, with access to a toilet was all we really needed anyway. At least this room didn´t smell like the first smoky hole she´d showed us. The window didn´t shut, but hey, the view onto the street below would be great,when it stops raining....mmmm...
So we spent a couple of days mooching around this old town, it´s very pretty, with cobblestone streets and quite grand, colonial buildings, all really well kept and painted. Every shop is a little boutique of well laid out quality clothes and gifts. With the estuary curving round the town, full of inviting boats with deck chairs on and Brazilian music wafting around to entice daytrippers for a cruise.
We stayed until the festival was over, knowing it was safe to move on and find accommodation. We had a bit of a journey, leaving at 11.30 pm, to arrive in Sao Paulo at 5am, then find a bus to Florianopolis. No it´s not a made up place and I was quite proud that I managed to pronounce this destination and but tickets for 9.30am. It was a day long journey, broken up fortunately with numerous stops, not like in Asia , where we´d keep going until my bladder was the size of a watermelon. The coaches are really comfy too, with reclining seats and more leg room than our flight over here. So we arrived at what we had thought to be a quiet little seaside town at 9.00pm. Not so much, as the coach entered the sprawling city and huge high rises loomed like obstacles ahead of us! Once we got our bearings, we managed to find the nicest place to stay, after turning down a youth hostel. Those places are so over priced, with less facilities. Why people go there, it doesn´t make sense. So we bargained our way up to the top floor of our hotel, given towels and soap!!! Simple things please me I know, but I hate my travel towel with a passion. It´s like a big chammois-leather and squeaks as you dry. Hardly comfort soft.
At last a sun-shiney day. We went for our breakfast, laid out bizarrely in the room next door to us, feigning as a cafe, it had tables and chairs, not beds admittedly. Coffee, juice, biscuits, rolls, ham and get this, a whole bowlful of the special toffee fudge spread that I remember getting once from Tescos as a real treat and here it was, free, I couldn´t believe it!! Sorry to harp on about breakfasts, but it's such a novelty.
The town was really much nicer than first impressions, as the main hub was only a couple of streets away, where pedestrianised cobbled streets, bordered by art-deco town house terraces of colourful pastel pinks, breens and blues. There was a really nice park, where we stopped and within seconds had made friends with a group of drunken Brazilian old men, who continued to t-rant away with expressive actions and ciao-ed us, very almost getting my mouth had I not turned sharpish. Thjis was only midday, I´d already seen numerous men drinking beer by 10am.
The following day promised to be a beach day, as there was not a cloud in the richly blue sky. It took a couple of buses and an hour to get there, but was so worth it. The sand was so soft it was like the stuff you buy to fill a kid´s sand pit with. The sea was so blue with crisp white waves and I could hear it calling me. I loved it. I splashed and braved the waves, though resolved that the next day I would wear a more robust bikini. Thus Sarah didn´t go in. So the next day, we returned although the weather wasn´t so good and it was super windy. However, being our last day and donning my surf safe bikini I was determined to go in for a surf. I felt right at home, as I had to try and hold down the board just to walk across the beach, becoming a human windmill in the process. I could have generated a city full of electricity had I been wired up, or knocked Laurel´s head off in a slap-stick. Sarah was no help, but lay laughing at me struggle over to her. Sporting a rather cool Brazil rashie, I finally made it out into the water. The current was so strong and the waves so constant I was tired before I´d begun. I should´ve seen the signs, when no one was in the water, but when else am I going to be able to surf in Brazil? Eventually I managed to catch a few waves, much to the shame and embarrassment of seeming like a real beginner again. Having got into the swing of things, I took a turn for the worse and landed hard in shallow water, so that the bone in my left heel felt like it had richocheted up through my leg. I remember jumping down from a high wall onto concrete and getting much the same nail imbedding pain. Lasting just long enough for me to still make it back with my board, I retreated whilst still alive.
It was good, but I felt broken. We made friends with Tom, an American football player from Arizona (so he said.....)Indeed, upon leaving the beach, as I stood up I couldn´t put any weight onto my foot at all. I was a hobbling gimp. To illustrate just how bad this was, I took Sarah up on her very kind offer to give me a piggy-back to the bus. Obviously piggy-back giving is something of a novelty around these parts, as the looks we got implied we were circus freaks. Maybe it was more the fact we had a strapping hunk of muscle with us, but I was clinging to Sarah. Tom had also sweetly offered to carry me, but as I had previously refused any help insited on carrying our bags instead.
So it was that I hobbled along off the bus and back to our hotel in such excrutiating pain, on a par with the knee injury in Nepal. So for that evening, having strapped it up, I took initiation in using both walking poles that Sarah and I have taken with us and used them as crutches. I looked insane and hence the looks I got verified that.

We decided that an extra day may be necesary in helping before I crumbled under the pressure of my backpack. Not so bad when it can be spent by a beach. We booked a morning bus to Porto Alegre and it was another day´s drive south. No bus journey seems to be less than 10 hours now. We arrived early evening and within moments of looking lost, a lady came up to help point us in the right direction. So we began our walk through the rather shady bus station of some less than lucky people. We got no further than the other side of the station, when we´d got lost again (I know, it´s a worry isn´t it?). So a really friendly guy, Jose came up to help. We both clung to our bags in preparation for the bop on the head and the stealing of our bags scenario we have so often been warned and prepared for, but he seemed genuine as he´d travelled before and knew what it was like to be in need of help. He warned us it was very dangerous to walk to our hotel and even went to the extreme of saying he´d offer us a lift straight there, but he´d have to go and get his car first. We refused of course, saying we´d get a taxi, but he was so insistant and really didn´t like the idea of us alone. So he wanted our number and e-mail address so that we could stay in touch and he´d take us round to see the sights..mmm, getting a little too much now we think, but there´s no harm of e-mail addresses, but we´d take his number and call him if we needed him. So we did the unthinkable and actually got a taxi to drop us to a hotel, but on arrival it looked a bit grim and was a trifle pricey too. So we ended up walking to another (don´t worry, not far away) and stood outside for a while as it looked shut. No lights and locked, but Sarah could see a little chappie watching tv in there. I peered through the window and waved and in moments he was up on his feet and welcoming us in with open arms and such a smile. He was rambling on good and proper in Portuguese even though we barely understood, but got the gist of most things. He then showed us with much pride, the elevator. This was the funniest thing ever, it was only just big enough to fit both Sarah and myself in with our backpacks, but then little matey boy squeezed himself in too, so that our foreheads nearly touched. It was like something from Doctor Who, as it rattled its way up three floors. It had those sliding cross-hatch shutter doors that must be closed, or the lift won´t work, or you´d fall out. I wandered if we´d gone back in time upon stepping out into a Fawlty Towers Hotel corridor, of honeycomb floor tiling and dark wood furniture. Scarily, the shared bathroom had two showers in it, causing a permanent curtain to be pulled across one as a make-shift store cupboard. This to me, was a scary film scenario, with the opportunity for someone lurking behind it, so everytime I went in there I´d have to peek behind just to check there wasn´t. Paranoid you might think, but little did we know we had reason to be.....
The next morning, we went down to breakfast, only just saving ourselves the ultimate embarrassment of being in pyjamas, as we´d had time to get dressed we did, luckily as there was a room full of people. Where there´d all come from I don´t know, but every little table was occupied in this big dining room. There was the biggest spread of food centred like a wedding reception buffet and it kept gettign refilled, as endless supplies were brought out by the rather scientist looking caterers in their white coats. Much to the amazement of myself, and more to the giant hoarder, who squirreled away numerous rolls, biscuits and sandwiches under his paper and probably pockets for later. (I know we did it before, but conservatively and what was rightly ours...)
So seeing Porto Alegre in daylight, we were rather disappointed to find that it´s not so much small port town with one or two little boats bobbing about the front, fringed by fairy lights, but more bustling city, of commercial buildings with ferries and ships docking to an unobtainable port, blocked by construction and a train network, dotted with homeless people at every corner. We did find the good points, as a park with a lake was not far from our hotel, as are good bakeries and we have a music channel between 6 and 9pm! So back to the reference of paranoia, it was due to Jose himself. I received an e-mail, written within moments of him getting home, saying that he´d been really worried about us and phoned the hotel that we said we´d planned to stay at! Thank goodness we snubbed it. They´d said as much and so he got really worried and said that we should get in touch and we could stay with him. He has two rooms, one of which we could have rent free and he´d take us out to places and where you can eat for under 2 euros!!! Eeek, this guy must be a little sad and lonely methinks, as this is beyond the call of duty in kindness, no? So I had to reply to say we were fine and thanks, it was really kind, but we wouldn´t really be needing any help etc, etc...no sooner had I sent this, I received another e-mail from him, saying that we should call him now to arrange to meet up and go for dinner and to give him the name of our hotel so he could pick us up!!!!! Sorry, Jose dude, but that was quite enough, hence I didn´t reply and we´ve watched our backs ever since, in case he´s tracked our whereabouts down!!!! It´s like one of those films where the nice guy warns you to be careful becasue of all the weirdos and nasty people about, but is one in fact himself......I don´t know, could be being way too harsh, but quite frankly, I´m not wanting to find out.
So having tried to find the art museum, for something to amuse us with, we were allowed into a random old building which was being rennovated in preparation for an exhibition. So nothing to see, but men at work, not particularly attractive ones at that. Then, finding another museum next door, I went in hope, but the only things up were in Portuguese and again, not much to see as it was also being refurbished and organised for a grand opening at a later stage...bah! So having now been saturated of this city, we are booked onto a coach to Punte Del Este, a coastal resort (apparently, also one of the most expensive in South America) in Uruguay!!! Can´t believe we leave Brazil so soon, but just as well, as the pennies roll way too fast here. Looking forward to Uruguay immensely and a chance to start using what I´ve learnt so far for the "Spanish speaking world", thanks to Sarah´s CD about Linda and Juan Phillippe at a food fayre in Spain.....Wish us Luck!!!

Sorry but no computers have photo editing connections, so they will be few I fear.

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Photos

Christ the Redeemer
Corcovado Hill in Rio.

Jesus
OK, that´s enough, I´ve made my point....

Insane
About to go out on my birthday..

Happy Birthday!
That has to be the saddest looking party - ever...clearly taken after a few...

Paraty
A festival was going on, but I think the flags are always there.

Paraty
The church in the old quarter of Paraty.

Paraty harbour front
Where we´d sit and contemplate..or just people watch.