Kat & Marty

Brazil is the largest country in South America. In fact, so big it is larger than the entire continent of Australia. We had that one proved to us on someone's atlas when we expressed scepticism.

Crossing the border at Iguazu Falls was easy. We rode a bus that dropped us at the border where guards stamped our passports without even looking at them or the yellow fever vaccination stamps we were supposed to have proof of. So clearly it was a really good thing we spent three extra days in Buenas Aires getting Marty a visa -not! There were three other backpackers that crossed over with us who we got chatting to. They seemed a bit reluctant to part company with us. We would say good-bye and walk off then they would be heading in the same direction. It eventually somehow ended up with us watching their bags for almost an hour, in the hot noonday sun when we wanted to be moving on. Eventually we freed ourselves by taking a taxi, which is a bit out of most backpackers price range, to the main tourism office. They directed us on to a good back packers. It was so good we decided to stay there all afternoon rather than sight see. I lay by the pool. Marty used the internet. WE went down the road to a lovely sushi restaurant for dinner, then we slept like babies.

The morning dawned hot and clear again. We arranged to catch a bus to a small island named Florianopolis (try saying that three times fast!) later in the evening. The hostel owner said he had booked us semi-bed tickets for a much cheaper price than usual, and he also steered us away from the hostel we planned to stay at (he said it had no double beds, only dormitories) for a friends one that he thought would be a lot better (the implication was he had booked us a double room) and whom would pick us up from the bus station.

Until then, we had free time so went out to the Brazilian side of the Iguazu falls. We were able to get a much better overall view of the masses of waterfalls cascading down everywhere and went up on a rather spectacular viewing platform. Furry little coatis ran around everywhere getting into rubbish bins and licking up spilt icecreams. We first saw these cute furry little animas, which are related to the racoon, in Bolivia. They are impossible not to fall in love with because of their unrelenting curiosity coupled with such a huggable demeanor. The coati has become both Marty and mine favourite animal. We also saw copious amounts of lizards scurrying around everywhere. Mostly they were small, but on the bus ride back from the falls to the park entrance, we saw one that must have been over a meter long. I have no idea what species it was but it was funny to watch it waddle off into the bushes. Vast varieties of butterflies fluttered about, though not the clouds of the Argentinian side.

The evening took us out to catch our flash yet cheap semi-cama bus - it was cheap but not flash or semi-cama. It was so crappy that Marty couldn't even fit into the seats at the second to front row we had reserved. The girl in front who wanted her seat back complained at us until we moved to seats further back (and closer to the stench of the toilet in the back corner). As more and more people piled on we were forced further and further back, until we said no more! Fortunately as we drew our line, no one else got on so there was no show down over seat numbers.

We arrived slightly motion sick and very tired at the bus station expecting Chris to be there holding a placard with our names on it. Instead we were greeted by some friendly touts and had to sit around and fend them away for a good half an hour. The bus company had told him the wrong time for our arrival when he called that morning. He was a lovely guy from Chile, very friendly. He spoke Spanish, a little Portugese and a very little English. We spoke English and a little Spanish and no Portugese. We got along just great. Back at his hostel we found he only had dormitories and we were in a room with two other couples - not what the plan was! I was disappointed but Chris was such a great guy we decided to stay on for the two nights we had reserved. He had some friends staying from Chile so we were invited to join the crowd on a trip to the beach. On the map, Florianopolis seems quite small but to get to the closest beach it took us three bus connections and an hour and a half of time. Once we were there it was wonderful. The sand was fine and white, the water clear and warm and people were out in force creating a festive atmosphere. We ate and swam then walked over to a neighbouring bay to go snorkeling. This was the first time I have been on a guided snorkel and will probably be the last. We followed along but really would have enjoyed it just as much if not more by ourselves. The snorkel guide pointed out an electric sting ray on the bottom. A moment later he reached down to pick up a shell and missed touching a second electric ray by inches - he didn't see it and was a little shocked when we told him later how close he was to it. He was in a wetsuit and was prepared to stay in the water for hours. He told us being in the ocean was his passion and his realisation. We on the other hand were just in boardies and bikini respectively. The sun had gone behind a cloud and we started to feel a bit cold. We waited while the guide checked someone elses nets for fish before swimming back for dryish land - rain had started to fall. We then had an hours wait for a bus to begin our long journey back to the hostel. There we found no restaurants open so ordered delivery pizza with some other guests help.

The next day was Sunday and everything was closed. A lady (I think she actually owned the hostel building), dropped us off to a bicycle rental place so we could ride around the island. The rental was run by two young ladies who knew nothing about bikes. The poor bikes, which would have been quite good early in their existence, had never been maintained. The chains were completely rusted out and Marty had to disengage his back brake as the wheel was so buckled he couldn't pedal. We tried to arrange to hire them for two days but they had a three hour limit so after a lot of negotiations they agreed to the entire day. 45 minutes later we took the bikes back giving them up as a bad job. We were now miles away from the bus stations and we wanted to be on the beach so we paid through the nose for a taxi to take us over. We did a little research on accomodation there and soon found the hostel we originally were going to stay at did have double rooms (!?!?!) but were now booked out. They were able to put us onto an apartment down the road run by a couple of stage prop artists from Buanas Aires, down the road. Hiring our own apartment was cheaper than our dorm beds back at Chris's place and we were so cloe to the beach we were able to walk out there with our morning coffees. It was a no brainer. We booked the apartment for the next day and spent the rest of our time in Florianoplois there. We took the bus back to Chris's and were once again thwarted by no restaurants or takeaways nearby. We ended up cooking pasta in tomato sauce. We decided to try out some local wine and tried to go cheap on it. One was so sweet we could barely stomach it - though one of Chris's friends tasted it and pronounced with fine panache that though it lacked the fuller body of a Chileano wine it was 'not bad'. I was stunned - actually he was right. It wasn't bad, it was much worse than that - it was awful! We tried a second bottle that tasted like alcohol with grape flavour added - a creative idea to get around making real wine. After this we gave up. We enjoyed chatting and socialising with the Chileanos before they headed out for a night on the town. In the morning we slipped out before they were up. I felt slightly guilty for leaving, but we wanted to be on the beach.

We were so happy with our decision. We lazed on the beaches and swam when it got too hot. Marty hired a surboard and joined throngs of other riders in the waves. We went for long runs along the sand. I bought a Brazilian bikini to sunbathe in baring my shockingly white arse to the world - I didn't stand out in the least. Everyone was wearing their 'four little triangles of nothing' or in some of the blokes case 'two little triangles of nothing'. Take your pick which was the scariest. Vendors selling everything from water and beer, ice-cream or barbequed cheese to clothes and furnishings. On our last day on the beach a cocktail cart was wheeled up and down the beach. We couldn't resist a pina colada. Having proof of our willingness to spend in our hands we became targeted by many more vendors that day. One day we went over the hill to a more sheltered harbour where Marty hired a wind surfer. He took out a new board with sand paper like grip on the top. Out in deeper water he came off and with a board too small for him spent 45 minutes lacerating himself on the grip before he got back into shore. The skin on his fingers was missing and he had bruises and cuts all over. The remedy? A couple of beers in the attractive beer gardens over the road.

Back at our apartment Estalla and Gustavo from Buenas Aires turned out to be fantastic land lords giving ua all sorts of advice on managing our way around. Before departing on our final day, Estella talked us through how to make Mate tea. From a new wooden gourd you had to fill it with wet mate tea leaves for several days to infuse the gourd wood with mate flavour. If you don't do this the bitterness of the gourd penetrates the tea. You then put fresh teea leaves in the gourd three quarters full. If you have a sweet tooth you can put sugar in at this point - also dried orange or lemon peel for flavour. The next step is to fill the gourd with hot but not boiled water. One person takes the gourd and using a special metal mate straw, drinks the entire liquid content out. The gourd is then topped up with more hot water and handed on to the next person. We read a book on the gauchos of Patagonia and in some places, which hand you pass the gourd on with can become symbolic of whether you like or dislike the person you are passing to. The biggest insult as a guest is not to be offered the mate pot at all and if this happens it is wise to leave that household as soon as possible.

The only reason we left Florianopolis was to go up to Rio de Janero for Carnaval - the biggest and most famous street party in the world that runs for five days. We took an overnight bus up (a little more comfortable this time) and arrived in Rio late morning. We took a taxi to our pre-booked hotel in the city center. There was a huge street party going on!In the end we walked the last part as it was faster than staying in the taxi. People were dressed up in all sorts of costumes and drinking beer. It was hard to force our way through to the hotel entrance. We were highly relieved they hadn't let our room out to someone else. Even while we were checking in, the desk was turning away people looking for accomodation. We dropped our bags and went out to join the party. It became downright scary as the people jammed in tighter and tighter. Walking around the block took an entire hour and it was a huge relief to get back into our room and have space to breathe. The heat was intense and the music loud. We walked out again away from the crowds and found a kilo restaurant. You fill your plate up from a smorgas board then pay by the weight. Our second time entering the street party we were a little wiser and just hung around the fringes watching the people go by. There were a disturbing amount of cross dresses - big hairy men dressed in frilly little frocks. Later, after it got dark, we saw a small parade come down one of the main roads. It was so full of energy, despite the late hour. This was what we had come to Rio to see.

Our hotel booked seats for us at the Sambodrome where each night different samba schools compete in a huge parade. The costumes for each parade can cost well over a million dollars and are incredibly elaborate. The floats range from mechanical animals to fairytale fantasies. We went on a Saturday night and arrived at around 8pm. The first parade was wonderful. With thousands of spectators cheering and dancing to the samba music, gorgeous costumes were pirouhetted down on the parade floor. An hour later when it was over I was a little disappointed as I wanted to see more. Marty laughed at me - there were 11 more parades to go. More and more spectators poured into our stand. I was glad we were near the side as I began to get claustrophobic. Heat stored up in the concrete seats from the hot sun of that day, and thousands of moving bodies generating heat, meant we were dripping in sweat. I started to find it hard to breathe and had to keep down the panic. Fortunately it was only like that for one parade then it began to thin out a little again. Even so the atmosphere was amazing - so many happy people having fun. Despite the alcohol being consumed, noone was drunkenly obnoxious or causing trouble. We left early at 4am, the competition didn't finish until after 8am.

We managed to do a little sight seeing during the days. One day we went down to the beaches by metro. It was great having such cheap and easy to use transport. We went to Copocabana first. We were fairly early and managed to get a small patch of sand. As the day wore on more and more people piled in of all shapes and sizes. The water was freezing despite the hot days but it was still full of people cooling off. Huge dumping waves would be full of flailing limbs as people tried to body surf or were knocked off their feet. We took a bus down the road to Pasadena where we had lunch. Marty had developed a taste for a Brazilian fish sauce made from maniac flour. Most meals that came out would be enough to feed two. At this particular restaurant they told us one serving is enough for one. We were given huge portions and were a little annoyed until we looked around and noticed the huge girth of most of the patrons. We walked down Pasadena beach avoiding balls and bathers splashing. Once again the completely immense number of people had me feeling claustrophobic again. Another day we went up to see the 'Flying Jesus' as Marty calls the statue. Rio de janeiro is famous for this statue looking down over the city and you have the option of taking a tourist train up or going in a private van. Seeing the huge queues for the train we took the van. The crowds here were awful too. With the heat, the bodies packed into the van and the inability to get my own space I was feeling pretty awful. By the time we got back to the hotel I was in tears. I didn't want to go out again but we still had another day. Waking up I realised I had a cold and the feeling of not being able to breathe was probably because my sinuses were blocked up. Marty had a bad case of food poisoning so it was a rough day. We found that the entire area we were in was closed down until after Carnaval so we had to head out to the beach to use the internet or eat. We did that. Our final night the movie theatres opened and we gained some comfort and relief from our situation by watching 'Little Miss Sunshine'. It wasn't the high party note that Marty had hoped to leave on, but for me - I was happy to be getting out of that city.

At the airport the next morning we found the usual problems caused by difficulties with communication - despite trying desperately to call the day before I had been unable to get through to confirm our flights. Our flight had been cancelled. For once we were in good hands. The air line had us in free transport out to a different airport and onto the next plane with no problems at all. We had a changeover in Sao Paulo then headed out to Madrid.