Spectacular scenery, more kind Brazilians and possibly the best value bus trip in Brazil


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South America » Brazil » Rio de Janeiro » Petrópolis
April 24th 2016
Published: April 24th 2016
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My room doesn't have air-conditioning but even during the day it doesn't get too hot - must be to do with the altitude or the fact that it's in the basement. The only thing that was worrying me as I set off for the National Park was whether I had enough cash. Decided that about £17 worth of Reais was probably OK, given that absolutely everywhere accepts credit cards and I knew the bus fares and the park entrance fee were unlikey to be much. Stopped off at a café and only after pointing to some sort of very large biscuit, which I had with an espresso, did it occur to me that I would have been better off with a sandwich with some sort of protein. Established that I was at the right bus stop and the bus did eventually come along. Confused the bus conductor by getting on at the back rather than the front - there is a turnstile in the middle which you go through after paying. I should know by now - but did manage to pay him at the end of the journey - the fare was 3.50, about 75P. I realised that Petrópolis went on for ever with sightly upmarket shanty towns sprawling up the beautiful green valley sides. Got off at the district terminal and then went looking for the next bus.

There were some young people with rucksacks waiting at what I thought was my platform so I asked them if they were going to the park and what bus they were waiting for. We started off in Portuguese but then one of the girls spoke to me in fluent American English so decided she was American and went off to check the bus numbers and times at the office, as the number they were waiting for didn't tally with what I had been told in the Tourist Office. This is never easy as there is rarely anything as clearly marked as an information desk - in this station there were two unmarked offices so it took me three attempts to find the right person, who confirmed that either bus would do. When I got back to the group of young peope I discovered to my horror that they were Brazilian - the 'American' had spent the previous year in the States, hence her accentless US English. I apologised for doubting that they had the right bus number and she asked if I wanted to join them. When I remarked on how precarious some of the houses looked, perched on the valley side she explained that it was in fact illegal to build in a lot of these places becaue it was so dangerous: they had a lot of rain in the summer which caused landslides and washed the houses away, people were killed but they continued to build, regardless. They certainly haven't had much rain this summer as, like everywhere else I have been in Brazil , the rivers are really low.

We got on the bus and I was amazed to discover that I didn't have to pay another 3.50 because I hadn't left the bus terminal. The scenery became even more spectacular with the strange shaped rocks which give the national park its name now quite close. I was glad I had somebody to tell me where to get off as you can't always rely on drivers or conductors to remind you. In fact I could see no sign at all indicating that this was the entrance to the national park, although when I came down later for the return bus, I noticed that there was a sign very high up - so high up that most motorists were missing it and having to ask for directions.

We started walking up the path, still with no signs for the park, but as one of my companions knew the way that was fine. I left them at the park entrance, where I was delighted to discover that entrance was free for the over 60s but equally horrified to discover that there were no facilities at all, apart from a drinking water fountain, not even a café or a guy with a coolbox - so bang went my lunch. Clearly I needn't have worried about lack of cash! There was a guide who offered me an orientation, in Portuguese obviously, that is he took me to look at the map. He tried to encourage me to do the longer trail but I explained that this would be too much. Memorised the names of the two trails, the 1.7 kilometre one that I was planning to do, and the one that I wasn't, which, of course, is what I ended up doing.

I came to the first sign which, as far as I could see, bore no relation to the map at the park entrance and no reference to the names of the trails. Liked the sound of the Morro, a hill, which I opted for on the grounds that it was bound to have good views - I actually thought I was still on the easy route, which was a circuit. The climbing really started then and I was a little concerned that there were so few people around and the warning notice about 'poisonous animals' was a little concerning. The views, however, were spectacular. Eventually caught up with a a couple. Actually, initially I couldn't decide whether they were a couple or not as she looked much older than him, though not so old as to be his mother, but my doubts were swiftly resolved when I saw them kissing. We got into conversation and I was pleased to find that they were finding the climbing as hard work as me. (She had respiratory problems and also a herniated disc). The guy reassurinly pointed out that we were quite high up by now, which meant breathing was more difficult, and also suggested that some apparently fit people would struggle with the steep and uneven nature of this path - for example footballers, something to do with their thigh, or was it calf, muscles!? Not sure about that one but it certainly cheered me up! Nor did they have any more idea of where they were going than me. I think if I hadn't been following them and talking to them intermittently I would probably have given up and gone back. Anyway, we all made it to first one waterfall and then the second, where they saved my life by offering me lots of fruit, which was gratefully accepted. I decided, however, to leave before they did, partly because I wanted to allow myself plenty of time to get down the path. In between the rocks there were steep slopes of dried mud which would have been a nightmare during or after rain. I also didn't want to be a burden to them on the way down as well as up, as the guy had given me a helping hand on more than one occasion . Besides, after that kiss, I thought they might like a bit of time to themselves!

On the way down I realised that most people weren't actually starting the walk till after midday, which was why there had been so few people around earlier. They kept asking me how far it was to the top - hadn't really been timing myself so just had a rough guess, hopefully an over, rather than an under-estimate. Was relieved to make it down without slipping, with the help of handy trees to cling onto and the occasional undignified descent on my bum. Resisted without too much difficulty the temptation to do the shorter trail with the waterfalls hat I had missed out on - all 1.7 kilometres of it. I had already walked for about three hours in total on a pretty difficult path.

Then came the boring part of waiting around for the bus at the bottom of the hill - not so boring actually because the stop was right next to some sort of depot which was receiving vegetables - the ground must be very fertile here as they are cultivating very steep land. I did manage to get some photos from this bus because we had to keep stopping whilst other vehicles reversed to allow us to get by. Then a further wait at the district terminal. I asked the bus conductor to tell me where to get off as I needed to go to the bank to withdraw 200 Reais, about £40, for tomorrow's taxi fare to the airport.

When I got off I knew there were banks around because had looked this up previously but couldn't remember in which direction. Had just sat down on a bench to consider my next steps when a woman approached me and asked : 'Voce vai para onde?' I didn't understand her the first time - 'onde' in Brazilian Portuguese is pronounced 'ongy', which I have still barely got used to after three weeks . The second time fortunately I did. When I told her I was looking for a bank, preferably Banco de Brasil or Bradesco, to withdraw money from, she consulted a man sitting close by and they told me where to go. They were right and I was relieved not to have to go marching up and down the long and very crowded main street, looking for an autobank.

On the way back to my lodgings I stopped at the Museu de Imperio restaurant where I had eaten the previous day . Wanted somewhere a bit more peaceful to eat - by this time it was getting on for 4 p.m! As it turned out, this dish of canneloni was to be my last, and only proper, meal of the day. When I set out around 8.30 p.m. to eat at the choperie again I was disgusted to find it shut - this on a Saturday night. I know it's a holiday weekend but how are their customers supposed to keep track of their opening hours? When Miriam asked me if I was hungry, I lied and said not, but she gave me a slice of her home made bread to try anyway! I suppose I could have found myself a restaurant on Google maps and got a taxi there and back, but who can be bothered? Console myself that missing all these meals will compensate for the amount of pasta and pizzas that I have consumed.

Earlier I had been driven to distraction by my unsuccessful efforts to check in for my flight - I had tried on Air France's website - on my phone and on my tablet - and on KLM's website, on my phone and on my tablet, and on their app. Every time I got to the bit where I had to confirm my personal information, it said an error had occurred. This is so frustrating - if I don't get an aisle seat as a result of their non-functioning web-sites, heaven help the person sitting next to me who does have one, as I fully intend to be up and about at least once an hour during the entire 13 hour flight!

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