Rio de Janeiro

So we arrived in one very hot and sticky Rio on Wednesday 11th of February and made our way to the area of Catete where we were staying. Our first few days of what was going to be an extremely short jaunt into Brazil, had been on a non stop bus journey up from Foz de Iguacu. The highlight of which was the frequent stops at service stations, with huge pay per kilo buffets, fresh fruit juices and delightfully unhealthy fried pastries.

Our first day in Rio was spent exploring the Centro, trying, and failing miserably to make ourselves understood in Portuguese, and silently praying for the gloomy looking clouds overhead to go away. Alas it wasn't to be, and that night the heavens opened, and what seemed to be months worth of rain came from the sky and flooded the streets, somewhat stranding us in our hostel. The one thing I thought might be guaranteed on our trip, and what I'd been looking forward to for ages, was a sun bathed trip to Ipanema beach, but the rain came, and was to stay with us pretty much all of the time we were in Brazil. With constant rain and clouds we put off a trip to the key sights like the famous sugar loaf mountain - Pao de Azucar, and the statue of Cristo de Redentor, in the hope of a sunny day. Instead we spent our days exploring the shopping streets of Ipanema, visiting various sights and going out in the area of Lapa to see an ace Samba band and join in with the crazy street party.

Food remained a highlight in the rainy days (as ever for me) and we enjoyed sticks of grilled cheese covered in Oregano, huge Prato Feito lunches; plates piled high with rice, beans, meat, and feijao, and amazing fruit shakes. When we did finally make it into Ipanema beach, there was a Carnaval procession making its way rowdily along the main street, with lots of the followers using the beach as a big open air bathroom. But even despite this, the beach was breathtaking, and down by the edge where the huge waves crashed against the white sand, we were the only people.

Alas our time was nearing an end in Rio and the sun still wasn't shining so we decided to head up to the statue of Christ early on our last morning, the clouds cleared enough for us to see the bays of Rio, with the islands out at sea, and the view was amazing. Surrounded by 100's of people standing around with their arms splayed for a photo op, we decided to join in. At last the sun came out as we visited the beach of Catete. We finished the afternoon with some friends from the hostel, going to Maracana football stadium to watch a match between Botofogo and Flamengo. As we left Rio the sun was shining and the atmosphere was already heightened in preparation for Carnaval, but we were headed for Salvador further North where we'd heard the party was even better!

Iguazu Falls

We had come to Puerto Iguazu for one reason, Iguazu Falls. With 275 individual falls they are among the widest in the world and can be seen from the Brazilian or Argentinean side.

The source of Iguazú river is in Paraná state, Brazil, and after crossing 1,200 km. on a plateau, where it joins with several tributaries before reaching a fault line. This crack in the sandstone and basalt is where the river runs an 80 metre canyon into the spectacular Devil's Throat.

Puerto Iguazu is a nice little town but obviously touristy. It was a great feeling to be back in Argentina and Residencial Amigos was a paradise after the journey. We celebrated our ‘half way through’ night with a meal out, complete with the most delicious Argentine red wine and steak. The tourist information is based in the town centre and is probably the best and most informative we had ever experienced. So armed with our bible of info we took the early morning bus to the falls along with the Park workers. The early start meant that a lot of the trail we were on was empty. Spider webs were strung across the path, Iguanas retreated to the undergrowth and a Tarantula took refuge under a step as H went bouncing past.

The Argentinean falls are by far the best side in my opinion, with more walk ways and falls to explore. One particular highlight was being on the Isla San martin away from the crowds and seeing the wildlife. By the time we headed up onto the Upper Trial it was 10:30 and the hoards had arrived. Nevertheless even with an army of tour groups marching around videoing themselves, the falls are an epic sight. The Devil’s throat is the biggest of the falls and standing on the platform looking into the drop, the noise is deafening.

We’d made friends with an Argentinean family staying in our residencial, and they invited us to join them that evening for the tastiest (and latest - the meal started at midnight!) Asado. When we headed out of Argentina for the last time it was with a real feeling of sadness. The food, wine and hospitality of Argentina had been a highlight of our trip and something we were definitely sad to leave behind.

Journey across the Gran Chaco

As Han mentioned in the last installment we now had the task finding a way to Iguazu Falls, Argentina. There are several ways and none of them particularly easy or straight forward. So, in true backpacker fashion we went for the most exciting route through Paraguay and the Gran Chaco.

Leaving Samiapata by colectivo taxi is the norm but after siting in the square for an hour it looked like we were the only ones heading out of town that day. We had only one option - to pay the price of four people. The mammoth journey began as we hurtled round corners and roads became gravel tracks and later became littered with speed bumps.

Once we arrived in Santa Cruz, at around 17:00, we made our way to the bus terminal and haggled for a ticket to Asuncion, the Paraguayan capital. Sometimes choice becomes a problem and as there were numerous companies going that way, all offering the same discount, all under exaggerating the length of time it would take and all promising a clean, safe bus…haha! We bought the $55 ticket that all we knew would get us to Asuncion and then on to Ciudad del Este, on the Paraguayan border, somehow.

As the sun went down the heat remained, the terminal was throbbing with people and fumes. Undercover police marched around checking passports and the Bolivian drug police, the FELCN, searched every bus coming in and going out, the sniffer dogs were brought out and paraded up and down our luggage. Mine was picked out and I had great pleasure in taking out the Malaria tablets the dog had caught a whiff of.

The night past on our bumpy bus with babies screaming and the smell of the toilet that was centimetres from our heads. As the sun rose the following morning the sight of dusty roads and the endless scrub of the Chaco greeted us. The only amusement that I could find was the conductor looked the spitting image of Ben Brewster (TV Director extraordinaire), maybe he was a long lost brother?

The Lonely Planet Guide to South America describes the Trans Chaco as a journey for “hearty souls” and by the 15:00, 18 hours in, my soul wanted to get out and walk. The Chaco occupies 60% of Paraguay and it is largely desert and scrub land with this single dirt track through it, connecting Bolivia and Paraguay. The sun was the hottest we had experienced and the lack of water in the toilet system produced an unbearable smell. The sweat was pouring off us as the bus twisted and turned. The only ventilation was, of course, our window which when opened filled the coach with a cloud of dust, even so anything was better than the smell of that toilet!

It soon became apparent the timings we had been told were as far from reality as we were from a hot bath in a Hilton. By late afternoon we arrived at the Paraguayan border control and after the usual sitting about for half an hour we were ordered to line up all our belongings for the sniffer dog and police checks. The burley and officious looking police were completely shown up when they brought out their mangy looking drug dog. He had other ideas and rather than being keen to hunt out drugs, he kept running off into the scrub and playing with his ball.

We rolled on and around 23:00 we were arriving in Asuncion and searching for our midnight departure to Ciudad del Este. Simple things count for a great deal when traveling by bus and the cool, clean and quiet ambience of this new bus was a world away from our Chaco chicken coup. We awoke as we were pulling into Ciudad del Este terminal, it was 5am. Inside the terminal people were slow and sleepy, the air was cool and refreshing and our 6am local bus to the border arrived promptly. A twenty minute ride and we were being dropped by immigration, exit stamps stamped and we were waiting for the next bus across the ‘Friendship Bridge’. Linking Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina this is a major union for commuters who work in any of these countries. The tri-border crossing was a hum of moto-taxis, colectivos and pedestrians. After sometime we caught a bus direct to the Argentinean immigration and then on to the town of Puerto Iguazu, Argentina. By midday our thirty-nine hour journey was over and we were relaxing on the poolside of Residencial Amigos.

Samaipata

Our second escape from La Paz was to head East, towards Santa Cruz, and to a small village called Samaipata on the edge of the Amboro National Park. A world away from La Paz, Samaipata has a mild climate, few inhabitants and the most stunning scenery. We stayed in a place called El Jardin where we rented a small Cupula to stay in, a mud built building with a mattress on the floor upstairs and a small table downstairs.

We went horse riding around the town, and played with some of the animals from a wildlife refuge down the road, including a very friendly red squirrel called Skippy, and a rather sulky howler monkey. We found a guide called Carmel who lived in the town and agreed to take us on a walk up into Amboro and into the cloud forests. It was like being in Jurassic park, the forest was calm and quiet, everything covered in moss with giant ants climbing over everything and beautiful butterflies flying everywhere. The deeper into the cloud forest we got there began to grow ferns, of all different sizes and types. We reached one valley in the forest where the fern trees were giant, some reaching 6 or more metres high.

Unfortunately our money ran out too quickly, and with no cash point nearby we only managed to spend 4 days in Samaipata. It definitely gave us a new view of Bolivia though, a much more tranquil and peaceful one which we hadn't seen elsewhere. If we'd have had more money with us I think it would have been hard to get us to leave. We began to head towards our next stop - Iguazu falls in Argentina - there was just one thing in our way, Paraguay.

Escape from La Paz - Part 2

Back in La Paz we seem to have gotten stuck in the black hole once more, mending our forever ill stomachs (one of the pleasures of Bolivia), getting out of breath constantly from walking up the many hills, and guiltily enjoying the pleasures of the very americanised chain of coffee shops, Alexander Coffee. If you´re in La Paz or head there soon, go there just for their hot chocolates - best I´ve ever tasted.

For some reason I let James drag me away from the safe and warm confines of Alexander coffee, and convince me to take on another of La Paz´s backpacking legends. The worlds most dangerous road. Having never been mountain biking before, the idea of my first attempt being on a winding gravel road with a very deadly reputation didn´t fill me with joy, nor did the fact that it was rainy season - and this meant that some companies ceased to offer the ride, deaming it ´too risky´, or doubled their prices to account for the extra care taken. Great! Despite knowing this we decided to go with the cheapest company we could find, and I had butterflies that felt more like helicopters in my stomach on the morning of our ride.

We began the ride at the freezing and wind-swept La Cumbre (4,700m/15,400 feet) supposedly surrounded by snow-covered peaks and fantastic views - not that we saw any of these as there was a thick fog present at 8.00am when we started. Shaky at first, slightly terrified and with numb hands I quickly took up my position at the back of our small group. The first section is on a twisting tarmac road, which descends rapidly down to a checkpoint where we stopped for breakfast. I was beginning to gain a little bit more confidence by this point but still insisted on James staying nearby incase I went arse over handlebars.

The next section actually entered the Yungas, becoming hotter and wetter as we descended. This was the most challenging part of the ride. I nearly cried when our instructor told us we still had about 4 hours to go! My hands and bum were killing already, and we hadn´t even hit the gravel yet. This infamous narrow dirt road is cut precariously into the side of the mountain and descends 2,000m (6,500 feet). This is where the accidents happen, it´s estimated that every year 200 to 300 people die on this winding road less than 50 miles long. I asked our instructor when was the last time a biker died? He looked deadpan at me and said that two English people went over the edge last week. The whole group went silent, then he burst out laughing, no doubt at the look of horror on my face.....then said ´´I´m joking, they weren´t English, they were Argentinian´´.

So we began the decent, with 1,000m+ (3,300 feet) sheer drops off to our left and hulking rock overhangs and cascading waterfalls to our right, we rode along, me completely ignoring our instructors advice to stick to the tire tracks on the left (near the sheer drop!) and sticking as close to the inside wall as possible. Followed by our support vehicle behind, a constant temptation to give up and jump in the van was hard to ignore. Thankfully, since March 2007 the majority of traffic has stopped driving down the WMDR, and now drives down the new road, so we didn´t have much in the way of vehicles to contend with, just other groups of mountainbikers who seemed to have a death wish and would zoom past at breakneck speed with little warning. Every now and then there would be a memorial plaque on the side of the road, some frighteningly recent, just to remind you what a stupid thing you were doing.

As we descended it began to get progressively hotter and dustier. And after 3 or so hours we made it to the bottom, a small town called Yolosa (1,100m/3,600 feet) deep in the Bolivian Yungas. I was amazed to be alive, and had actually began to enjoy the ride once I´d gotten the hang of it. I even managed to up my position in the group by one, giving up the last place position to a Colombian girl who was even more scared than I was. We were then driven to a hotel with a swimming pool to try and ease our quivering muscles and have some lunch. I definitely felt a sense of acheivement for managing to make it to the bottom. Thankfully I only found this BBC article after we´d been on the bikes, as I´m sure I would´ve chickened out if I´d read it before!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/6136268.stm

Amazonas Adventure

To our huge relief the weather held and the our flight with Amazonas Airlines went ahead. Flights to Rurrenbaque, in the amazon basin are renowned for being cancelled or delayed in the rainy season due the runway simply being grass. The only other way to get to Rurre is by the infamous 18 hour bus/roller-coaster so we were keeping everything crossed for our 45 minute flight to go ahead. We squeezed onto the 17 seater plane and in true South American style bumped into friends, Juilen and Charlotte who we had last seen in Torres del Paine, Southern Chile. The flight went as smoothly as a small tin can in turbulance can but only 45 minutes later we were stepping out into 40 degree heat with about 100% humidity.

Rurre felt a world away from La Paz´s cold and antiplano climate. It was more like being in africa with mosquitos the size of your head, the heat and buzz of a small town - oh and lots of soldiers walking around with machettes. After finding a flee bitten hostel for the night we headed to a posh hotel which had a pool and met up with Julien and Charlotte. From Marseille, they are travelling South America whilst on honeymoon and were also heading into the wilderness.

We did a bit of classic backpacker shopping around, always having to find the best deal even though we`re in the cheapest South American country, and decided to go with the company Fluvial Tours for 450 BOB for a three day expedition into the Pampas. This was an incredible price and the service was brilliant. The following day we met with the six other guys in our group; Paola from Peru, Andrew and Annelie from Oz, Doris from the Netherlands and Sarah and Michael from Ireland. We boarded our rickity jeep and drove for about 2 hours to the start of the wetlands and waterways. We arrived in the middle of nowhere, the sun was baking and all of a sudden another boat (dug out canoe style) arrives, returning from a three day tour with punters. As they disembarked we saw one girl covered from head to toe in mosquito bites, handing out the warning that the mozzies here could bite through anything. Then would you believe it behind her was Thomas and Loes from our Salar de Uyuni journey. A very bizarre coincidence but then as we keep realising South America is a very small place!

The next three days were incredible and within ten minutes of cruising down the waterway we were spotting Howler Monkeys, Turtles, all sorts of birds, Caimen and the alusive Pink River Dolphins. We reached camp by late afternoon which was situated on the bank of the river. Our huts were on stilts as the camp was also home to a whole host of animals including an agressive Caimen and toothless Aligator. Returning from a trip down river became a mini adventure of it´s own when you had to jump the caimen or dodge sticks being thrown down from the trees by Capuchin Monkeys. Each day was awe inspiring, and our luck the second day continued as we went looking for an Anaconda. After a sweltering walk across the boggy plains we eventally found one. It was around three metres long and moved with effortless speed through this partially submerged pasture. The attack of the mosquitos went unoticed whilst we were striding through bogland but on return to the camp we saw that Han´s back was covered in bites, and they´d managed it through 2 layers of clothing. We were all hot, stinky and gagging for a swim. We changed and cruised down river to where we´d spotted some river dolphins earlier on. Before you could say Bolivian referendum results we were jumping into this amazonas waterworld and swimming with pink river dolphins. Now, swimming in the Amazon, which has Caimen, piranas, Aligators, flesh eating diseases etc and all that ´hype´ wouldn´t normally stop me, but when the dolphins suddenly left the scene and we were still splashing around all those Natural History programmes of young wilderbeast being pulled under by crocs came flooding back. Needless to say we all hopped out sharpish!

The final day came and we went pirana fishing, before we knew it we were arriving back where our jeep had set us down two days before. As we bounced along the dirt track to Rurrenbaque the darkest clouds formed and the winds picked up. The heavens opened and our flight back to La Paz the next day evaporated in front of us. That night we had a few cheeky cocktails in the Mosquito Bar with the group along with Julien and Charlotte, who were back from their jungle tour.

Customer service isn´t something you should expect if you come to Bolivia and Amazonas Airlines are the epitomy of this. Our flight ended up being delayed for five hours and we had to force them to store our luggage. Once we were about to leave for the airport we were told we would have to pay more money for a transfer to the military airport, as they´d rescheduled our flight from there! All I wanted was some sort of drinks voucher to make me feel like a valued customer or some stupid rep telling us what the hell was happening. Alas, no not here and not with Amazonas. We eventually made it back onto the little plane, and took off headed for La Paz, sad to be leaving the Amazonian wilderness that had been incredible to explore.

Escape from La Paz

There´s something of a black hole quality to La Paz that makes people stay there longer than they ever intended to. It´s the worlds highest capital city located at 3,660m, so the altitude could be something to do with it. It´s also tiring to walk around, with central La Paz sitting in the bowl of a valley, high up in the altiplano, it´s districts and neighbourhoods spread outwards and upwards, with some areas looking like they´re literally clinging onto the side of the valley. As we had hit Bolivia in their summer, it was also rainy season, so days would start in glorious sunshine, and undoubtedly end with torrential rain. As in the rest of bolivia it´s also incredibly cheap to stay here. We found a great little place called Hospedaje Milenio which cost us just 27 Bolivianos each a night for a private room (about 2.70!), there were countless places where you could buy an Almuerzo or 3 course set lunch for about 20 Bolivianos, and the street food and fresh fruit juices available cost next to nothing and were really tasty.

We initially spent a few days recouperating from various ailments, getting our bearings and getting used to the constant protests passing on the street, it only took a handful of occasions of us jumping out of our skins to get used to the firecrackers that go off all day long, and the particularly scary looking police men with big guns! One of the books I bought along on the trip from home was Marching powder, written by Rusty Young about the experiences of a British man, Thomas MacFadden, who had been looked up in La Paz´s San Pedro Prison - for drug trafficking offences. The book is fascinating to read, as San Pedro Prison is renowned for being a society within itself. It´s a world away from how prisons operate in the UK. Inmates at San Pedro have to buy or rent their accommodation, they often have jobs inside the community, and their families live inside the prison too, children and all. There are no guards inside the prison, only on the prison walls. There are different sections to the prison, ranging in prices for a cell, complete with restaurants, hairdressers, churches. Those with money can live in comfort, with most amenities available to people on the outside, some inmates have even built extensions onto their cells. The place has become a thing of backpacking ledgend, as for a price, you can go inside the prison and have a tour of the institution.

We were both keen, so we headed for San Pedro Plaza, where we´d been told that a South African lady would approach us and arrange for us to get inside the prison. After 10 minutes walking around the plaza, feeling slightly stupid and beginning to think of chickening out, she appeared, told us the protocol, and we headed toward the prison gates. We´d been told that our guide was a Portuguese guy called Louis Felipe, we had to pass through the guards, whilst hiding our camera, threw the prison gates and into crowd of waiting inmates. Thankfully Louis Felipe was waiting for us and introduced us to our security guards for the trip - three rather big but thankfully friendly looking inmates, and the tour began. It was an amazing experience, Louis Felipe was like the Godfather, he´d only been inside the prison for 7 months but he seemed to have the respect of all of the other inmates. As he walked us around the different sections of the prison, he introduced us to people, showed us in some of the cells, complete with TV´s and carpet, the football pitch and games room, telling us when it was safe to take pictures, out of sight of the guards. He told us stories of fights and stabbings that had occurred - it seemed that there was no law inside the prison, other than what the most powerful of inmates implemented. At the end of the tour we were taken into a small room, where we´d been told that we´d need to tip our guards, as well as Louis Felipe for ´letting´ us use a camera. The prison is possibly most infamous for the quality of its Coke - made within the walls of the prison - offered to visitors at 100 Bolivianos for a gram, some visitors also pay extra to spend a night at the prison.

Once on the outside it sunk in what a strange experience that had been, definitely one of the best tours we´d taken so far. Thankful to be on the outside of the prison walls we began to plan for our next trip - and we finally managed to escape La Paz, and headed North. This time our destination was Rurrenabaque, a town in Bolivia situated in the Amazon Basin.