Glimpse into the North (South Korea Part Two)

Let’s start by that saying as far as strange tours go, this was up there with the best of them. The Demilitarised Zone is a strip of land cutting the Korean peninsula in half, forming a ‘buffer zone’ approximately 2km wide on either side of the Military Demarcation Line, the divider between the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) and the Republic of Korea (South Korea). The zone itself may be ‘demilitarised’ but the areas on either side are very heavily militarised indeed. Within the DMZ is the Joint Security Area (JSA) where negotiations take place and until recently it was possible to visit the spot where North and South Korean soldiers face off. This is important to know before booking, because the JSA closed to tourists in July 2023 after an American soldier attempted to cross the border from South to North without authorisation. Tours to the DMZ continued, with a couple of options that generally include a walk through one of the infiltration tunnels, a visit to an ‘observatory’ / visitor’s centre with telescopic viewing platforms set up to provide the coveted glimpse into North Korea and a stop at one of the suspension bridges, which are a fun way to stagger the group arrivals to the DMZ. The other thing to know (which I didn’t) is that various bridges and tunnels are closed on different days. As it turned out, the tour I initially booked was closed on Mondays so I ended up on this one, which I actually would recommend as the guides were great and it wasn’t too crowded – ‘2nd Tunnel and Y-Shaped Suspension Bridge‘ via the GetYourGuide platform. I set off at 6.30am for the meeting point at Myeondong subway station, a 20 min walk from my hostel.

Map of the DMZ and 2nd infiltration tunnel

The roads were dark and quiet other than some office workers starting their day but Seoul is a very safe city. Finding anywhere open for breakfast at that time was impossible so I settled for a coffee and and a bread roll filled with sweet red beans from the 7/11 convenience store, a good way to use up some of my T-Card balance. I arrived at the subway station and spotted a group of blank looking tourists sitting on some benches. A guide with a clipboard introduced herself as Lucy, gave me a tag to hang around my neck with her name on it and sent me over to join the others. There’s always an annoying person or two in group trips (as the saying goes if there isn’t one, then it’s you) and sure enough two middle aged Australian men joined the group after unnecessarily loudly having a go at Lucy for changing the meeting point (she didn’t) and asking us all if we had received the location details on time (we had).

Video from the bus, entering the DMZ

Bus tours are a very popular way to see South Korea and in fact the only way to see the DMZ, which needs to be booked in advance with your passport details. Lucy and her fellow tour guide Joey didn’t believe in any rest on the bus – this theme continued on all of the bus tours I took in South Korea. Sitting up front meant I had no choice but to listen to the non-stop commentary aside from a 20 min break where Joey announced ‘ok you can take a rest now, sleep well’. It was actually very informative, and if I’m not forced to listen then I will switch off. Meanwhile our suit and sunglasses wearing driver Mr Sony provided a cheerful hello and thank you each time we embarked and disembarked the purple bus. Interestingly, Joey said that until she became a tour guide a few years ago, when she was living in London and working in Pret, she hadn’t given much thought to the question of unification between the North and South. Her father recalls North Korean citizens being referred to as animals during his own school days and her mother still considers them ‘the enemy’. It’s only now that she’s working in tourism that her view has shifted and she has come to view them as normal people mostly working as farmers and living below the poverty line, and she now sees unification as a good thing.

Y-Shaped Suspension bridge, taken from the observation deck

Our first stop was the ‘Y-Shaped Pocheon Suspension Bridge’, which at 410m is the longest suspension bridge in Korea, as the name suggests forming a Y shape over the Hantangang River. The advantage of starting the tour so early is that you’re the first group to arrive – the observatory and cafe were just opening up and the bridge was quite literally empty. The real reason there are multiple suspension bridges in this area is because they were once used as a defence line, but nowadays they are fun to walk over and provide some lovely views of the autumn colours.

CCTV on the bridge

Perhaps the most unsettling thing about this tour compared to other war memorials and places of historical interest, is that usually the conflicts, or at least the wars, are in the past. Whereas this conflict is most definitely in the present. It was also disconcerting to hear the ‘rivalry’ referred to in a lighthearted manner, i.e the raising of flagpoles higher than the other one, and the blasting of K-Pop and Gangnam Style music – both sides broadcast various music / messages / material into the area over loud speakers. It was only recently in the news that thousands of balloons filled with rubbish (according to news reports, possibly also containing human waste) were sent over from the North and dropped on the South.

View from the bridge

Back on the bus and off to our second stop, the “2nd Infiltration Tunnel” and, unexpectedly, a Crane centre (the bird variety) which we had a look around whilst Lucy sorted out some admin. The tunnel is one of four constructed by North Korea, intended for a surprise attack. The information in the visitors centre explained that some South Korean soldiers heard banging noises leading to the discovery of the tunnel in 1975, which had already been abandoned. It’s about 2m by 2m and could apparently accommodate up to 30,000 armed soldiers per hour, along with vehicles, artillery and tanks. I’m not so sure about the tanks – I soon understood why helmets were mandatory, as the ceiling is really low in places and the only sound was that of people bumping their heads every minute or so.

Crane Centre

Strictly no photos were allowed inside the tunnel, but it’s fairly well lit (the artificial lights allowed plants to grow despite the dampness). Our guide said there was some type of mineral on the ceiling – I forgot exactly what, but it’s meant to be lucky to touch it – but all I touched was slime. There are some benches for weary tourists at the deepest point, after which the tunnel is barricaded off and you need to turn back. It’s a bit surreal to consider that if you did continue on, you’d surface somewhere in North Korea, which presumably wouldn’t be a tourist attraction. Or would it?

This day trip was 10 hours long (another common theme with the bus trips) and included a basic buffet lunch. Eventually we made it to the highlight of the trip and main reason for coming, the Peace Observatory. Lucy and Joey warned us not to take any photos of the South Korean guards, who would apparently all look very young (this was true). After a short train/cable car ride up, we all filed into a cinema style room (no photos inside either) and watched a short video which could itself be described as propaganda with it’s horror music style soundtrack. Positioned around the floor to ceiling glass windows were telescopes, some with digital screens trained on the DMZ and beyond into North Korea. We were told that whilst no photos were allowed outside either, nobody would check our phones which could be taken as encouragement. The adolescent looking soldiers helped focus the lenses on what was described as Propaganda Village – a village on the North Korea side which they say is fake. I did spot a moving truck, and Joey got very excited at a blob she said was “a North Korean”. She said this like it was some type of rare exotic species. I wondered were there lenses trained on us from the other side? Outside was even more surreal as over the wind I could hear a message being broadcast very loudly from the speakers, which the soldiers said was a message of peace. I have no idea what it was, as it was in Korean. But I found it fascinating wandering around the terrace, using the telescopes to look past nomads land. I would be slightly wary of posting any footage on social media, even if I had taken any.

Tanks outside the visitor’s centre (spot the name tag)

After some photos with the tanks and a visit to the shop selling 10kg bags of rice – also free green tea and samples of purple rice cake (this is prime rice growing territory) – off we went to yet another stop, the abandoned Woljeongri station. This is the now dilapidated last train stop before the border. It was a great photo opportunity and fairly eery with the remains of a carriage just rusting away on the tracks, which now lead to nowhere and the distant sound of K-Pop being broadcast from the South Korean speakers.

Train to nowhere
Korean K-Pop music in the background

Not far from here, and the final stop on the tour, is the last building constructed in North Korean architectural style, the Korean Workers Party Headquarters. Constructed in 1946, the three story building is falling down but there was still a a team of gardeners tending to the bushes. I didn’t get any more information on this, but imagine it’s an influencer’s dream photo spot in the Spring.

Cheorwon Korean Workers’ Party Headquarters

Finally it was back on the bus and a couple of hours drive back to Seoul. It was certainly an eye opening day, and once more it was too late to find a proper meal. These long days are tiring – I managed a walk around the night market in Myendong and a cheap veggie spring roll before retreating to my pod for some sleep before my morning flight to the South Korea’s answer to Hawaii, Jeju Island…

Dinner

Mad Dash to Seoul (South Korea Part One)

The idea of a two week trip to South Korea was a last minute one, even by my standards. I have wanted to visit South Korea for a long time and imagined I’d spend at least a few weeks exploring this relatively small country as part of a bigger trip to Asia – but with two weeks to wait before starting a new job, staying at home was never an option. I have never planned a trip so quickly, booking a flight that departed just a few days later.

Map of Seoul

I got myself an old fashioned guide book and did some very quick research on the main areas in Seoul. Next was accommodation – budget wise I didn’t want to spend more than £40 per night as I ended up spending more than expected on flights (who knew the £350 return flights on Skyscanner didn’t actually exist 🤦🏻‍♀️). What was available within that budget at three days notice over the weekend was a dorm bed in the Seoul Cube Jongno, located in the prime area of Jongno-Gu meaning I could walk to a lot of places on foot.

First impressions

On that note, this blog is usually just for friends and family to keep track of what I’ve been up to but in my rapid research I came across a lot of information that might actually be useful, so I have decided to make it a bit more informative this time! Scroll down if you have no intention of visiting ever. Things to be aware of:

  • There is a name in South Korea for hidden cameras and miniature spy cameras in women’s toilets, changing rooms and hotels and it’s called “molka”! Probably best not to go for one of the cheap “love motels”.
  • Google Maps does not work properly in Korea for navigation – you need to download the “Naver Maps” app and register as a user before you can save places to favourites. This often means using Google maps to find the Korean name then entering that into Naver to get directions.
  • Get an eSIM so you can navigate on the go – “Saily” is working well for me. I’m all for going old school and having a break from being online but otherwise it’s going to be very hard to get around in South Korea.
  • Uber does in fact work but it’s worth downloading the Korean taxi hailing app “Kakao-T” as well.
  • Travelling on buses is easy but you need to buy a “T-card” at a convenience store and top it up with cash also at the convenience store before you can tap on and off the buses. The average ride costs ₩1500 – I messed up the money and put on 70,000 instead of 7,000 so I can travel for a very long time. Or I can spend it on weird and wonderful items in the 7/11 or failing that apparently you can get a refund of the balance at the end of your trip.
  • Flying to Jeju Island is surprisingly cheap and worth it if you don’t want to spend a day travelling down by bus and ferry (£30 including checked baggage), but flights do actually get booked up particularly over the weekend.
  • Download Korean into Google translate so you can use it offline. Waking up to a Public Safety Alert message on your phone is a lot less scary when you can immediately translate it and understand that the earthquake was a long way away!
Welcome to Seoul

After leaving home on Friday morning, after a couple of hours stopover in the ultra modern Qatar airport and two long haul flights, I arrived on Saturday evening at Incheon International Airport. There are LOTS of buses and trains from the airport to the city. I was just too tired after 24 hours of no sleep to figure it out so I took the easy option of an Uber, well worth the £30 at night for over an hours drive and no hassle.

If someone managed to fit a spycam in here, so be it!

The driver dropped me at the address but I couldn’t see the hostel anywhere. Then I realised you need to look up in Seoul – everything is multi story. I still needed help to find the entrance, which was through a 7/11 shop.

The Seoul Cube hostel was very clean and very quiet, with women only dorms – much appreciated when powering through jet lag means going to bed at 9pm. I was so tired I had a packet of crisps for dinner and managed a bit of polite conversation with some other travellers before going to my pod.

This hostel has A LOT of rules. The most annoying one is that you can’t take your luggage into the bedroom so everyone unpacks on the kitchen floor. You’re also under CCTV in the common area and at constant risk of having the police called on you – strictly no alcohol here, no opening the fridge after before 07.00 or after 10.00 and definitely NO fraternising with the opposite sex. All of this contributes to a general lack of atmosphere but I didn’t have time to hang around the hostel anyway so it made no difference to me.

The “stream”

On my first morning after a great nights sleep in my pod I headed straight to the closest Tourist Information – there was no point asking any questions in the hostel as they had another sign on the wall essentially stating that they are not tourist information so don’t ask. The real Tourist Information were extremely helpful – they gave me a map and sent me off down the “stream” in the direction of somewhere open to get coffee (most of the coffee shops in the area close for a “break” mid morning).

Hechi

The Cheonggyecheon stream runs 11km through the city and comes alive in the evening, conveniently passing by my hostel. It’s actually a restoration of the stream from the Joseon Dynasty spanning 1392-1910. On Sunday morning it was home to the Seoul Outdoor Library, with lots of chairs set up with a stack of books ready for people to enjoy, which looked extremely inviting.

At the end of the stream is a huge bear like figure – this is Hechi, the mascot of Seoul. Mascots are popular here and this is one aspect that reminded me of Japan. Hechi sits overlooking the stream, infront of a huge speaker. There was some kind of rally going on with music blasting out and I couldn’t be sure where it was coming from.

A short walk away from Cheonggyecheon is Gyeongbokgung Palace, meaning “The Palace Greatly Blessed By Heaven” and the largest of the five Grand Palaces. On my way there, Hechi and the outdoor library popped up again, this time with the Bugaksan mountain looming in the background.

My first impression of Seoul in the daylight was the merging of nature and urban. Mountains tower over crosswalks and skyscrapers loom in the distance behind palaces. Even when you’re in the midst of the city, a temple appears.

And the first thing that hit me when I entered the palace grounds through the Gwanghwamun Gate was the number of people in costume. This is positively encouraged in Seoul – you get in for free if you don the traditional costume known as Hanbok. Meanwhile I wandered around in my jeans and failed to get a good photo from anyone that I asked. Probably they make more effort for the Hanbok.

Inside the main palace

It’s a big complex of temple buildings, historically it acted as a small city, including separate King’s and Queen’s residences. The original palace dates back to 1395 and was the main royal palace of the Joseon dynasty. As well as the home of the royal family it was also the seat of government.

Timeline of events

A brief history; All of the royal palaces were burned down during the Japanese Invasion of 1592-1598. In fact Gyeongbokgung Palace was left derelict for over 270 years and reconstruction began in 1867 with over 500 buildings. It was then torn down again in the Japanese Occupation and replaced by a huge Japanese Government building. Further restoration has been ongoing again since 1900 with the Gate and the residences of the King, Queen and Crown Prince being restored to their original state. That’s most of the history I gleaned from the signs around the palace – anything more is best found on Wikipedia.

Entering the palace

I can’t take in too much information at once so I usually resort to taking photos of signs in the hope I’ll come back and read them at some point – here is one of them.

It’s definitely a good idea to learn some basic words in Korean and it’s much appreciated by the local people. Unfortunately this trip was so hurried that I only managed to half remember “thank you”. Something I regretted when I accidentally stepped on an old Korean man’s (full) coffee cup at the lake and was unable to even apologise properly. He did not see the funny side.

One of my favourite views
Autumn colours

Coincidentally autumn is one of the best times to visit South Korea as the fall foliage is in full swing. Everything is orange and green and brown which only adds to the beauty of the temples.

The animals on the roof are placed there to protect the building
Modern city meets ancient dynasty

There are some free tours of the palace in English but I had just missed one and didn’t want to wait. It would probably be useful as there are so many corners to explore. A couple of hours wandering around was enough for me before I got hungry – many restaurants in Seoul also “take a break” between 15.00-17.00 so I went in search of a vegan friendly lunch while I could. I didn’t actually end up in the vegetarian restaurant I was aiming for (still a bit confused as to what happened), but the place I found myself in had a vegan menu with the biggest pancake I’ve ever seen.

Apparently it can be hard to eat alone as restaurants here don’t like serving single portions but this seems to apply to the meat based Korean BBQs. A win for the veggies.

Spring onion style pancakemeant for sharing

There is so much to do, see and experience in Seoul you could easily spend a couple of weeks here. My aim in the afternoon was to make the most of my limited time and visit the cultural Bukchon Hanok Village. I should have paid more attention to the Tourist Helpers who were handing out leaflets on the street – this place is a residential area and “closes” to tourists at 17.00. I had just got there when I was met by people holding sandwich board style placards, encouraging us all to leave in a very smiley and nice manner. Bukchon Hanok will just have to go on the list for when I come back to Seoul at the end of this trip.

Resemblance to the real life helpers is uncanny

In the evening I took a walk over to Myeongdong with it’s neon signs and late night shops and street market. This felt like the Seoul I had imagined in my head. I’ll need to dedicate some time for shopping at the end of the trip as there is a whole K-Culture that I’ve not been aware of – K-Pop (Gangnam Style is just the beginning), K-Drama, K-Beauty…

Myeongdong

Seoul at night is beautiful and it’s a safe city. I could have walked for miles but I had to be up at 5.30am the next day for my DMZ tour. I will be breaking the hostel rule of “no alarms in the dormitory” for this one. Visiting the DMZ area – the “De-Militarised Zone” – was something I really wanted to do, where you walk through one of the infiltration tunnels and then look at North Korea through binoculars, with a suspension bridge visit thrown in for some light relief.

Make your own keychain
K-Pop themed sweets

Next stop, as close to North Korea as it’s possible to get…

Two Wasters in a Country Club – Paraguay Part 1

Paraguay is one country I missed out last time and I didn’t know anyone who had bothered to visit. When Vix and I told people in our hostel in Montevideo that we were planning to go, they said “Paraguay?! You must be very religious or drug dealers”. Even more reason to visit this landlocked country that borders Brazil, Argentina and Bolivia and is part of the Triple Frontier where the Iguazú and Paraná rivers meet.

Three nations, two rivers, one place

There were multiple bus operators at the bus terminal in Puerto Iguazú running services to from Argentina to Ciudad del Este in Paraguay. It looked pretty straightforward as long as you don’t get left behind when the bus stops first at the Brazilian border. The easiest option is a taxi all the way – taxi drivers were offering this service as we walked down the street. The most fun way, however, is as a foot passenger on the car ferry (called La Balsa) across the Paraná river.

Argentina border control

It was hard to find any information about La Balsa as nobody seemed to know about it. We were met with blank stares at the Hostel Iguazú, although to be fair that’s how they responded to everything. But we did find a helpful blog that detailed the journey and discovered that the port was only a 20 minute walk across town. When we asked the hostel how much a taxi to the port should cost, just as a rough idea, the woman helpfully said she has no idea as she walks everywhere. Well, so do I when I’m not dragging all my belongings around and limping from an allergic reaction to a wasp sting. We definitely got ripped off with over £5 for a five minute drive but as four different currencies are accepted (Brazilian reals, Argentinian peso, Paraguayan guaraní or good old US dollars) I paid with left over currency that made it feel like a free ride whatever it cost.

Which boat?

La Balsa ferry seems to be relatively new. We had to ask a few times before we found the little portacabin selling the right tickets and we could easily have missed getting stamped out of Argentina (it’s electronic now so no evidence in the passport that we were ever there).

Sign for the car ferry

We went to sit on the floor by the river to enjoy the view whist we waited since the timetable is just a rough guide – it leaves when full – and immediately got asked to move inside by security who weren’t happy until we were ring fenced in the seating area with it’s concrete benches. We’d been sitting there for a while when Vix happened to look up and noticed that everyone else had left.

La Balsa

When we eventually got on, the boat only took about 15 minutes and the views are beautiful as it goes past the International Friendship Bridge that connects Brazil with Paraguay.

There were no other tourists on the boat and there is no way to blend in – as I got off some fellow passengers said “Welcome to Paraguay” 🙂 We lugged our bags up the hill to yet another portacabin to possibly the most relaxed passport control I’ve seen. We were very happy with our perfect Paraguay entry stamps – the friendly officer must have either just filled up his ink or else not had any other visitors recently.

Paraguay
No idea what this was but we liked it

I assume if we had walked further up the hill we may have found some buses but we had no idea of the timetable. Taxi is definitely the easiest way out of the “port” – a man offered us a ride for $10 for the 45 minute drive to our hotel north of Ciudad del Este which we were more than happy with.

Customs in Paraguay

The taxi driver spent the journey telling us facts about his country in hard to understand Spanish, which was lovely but we would have preferred him not to have been finding YouTube videos of Monday Falls (Paraguay’s alternative to Iguazú) whilst he was driving. He also stopped the car to show us the red soil, which we felt obliged to get out and take a photo of, unless we misunderstood 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Bus?
Red dirt

As soon as we got close to Ciudad del Este, it became clear he didn’t know the way at all and showing him the map didn’t help. We burned through Vix’s mobile phone data with Google maps and all those school lessons in asking directions in Spanish came in useful as we directed him around the back roads. When we eventually got there he complained that it should have cost more and he could have gone on the highway – that’s what you get for asking two foreigners “left or right?” at the last minute at EVERY SINGLE JUNCTION.

Country roads

Ciudad del Este is a duty free shopping haven and the city centre didn’t have the best reputation. But the weather was good and four star hotels are cheap so we decided “Las Ventanas” boutique hotel inside the Paraná Country Club, a 15 minute drive out of town, was just the place. The intention was to stay a couple of nights then move on.

Las Ventanas meaning The Windows

But it wouldn’t be a trip for me unless it involved an insect related hospital visit. I woke up in the morning with a foot twice the usual size and was unable to walk thanks to the wasp in Iguazú Falls. I limped down to reception and told the horrified man at the desk that I needed a hospital – he was visibly relieved that it hadn’t happened in his hotel. Thankfully there was a decent private hospital ten minutes away.

Got my spot for the day -alcohol free beer

They clearly hadn’t had a foreign patient before, as when they took my passport to copy my name they were looking at completely the wrong page and a radiologist took a break from casually sipping his herbal mate tea to have a peak. Luckily there was a nice woman who seemed to know what she was doing and made sure I got seen within ten minutes by a lovely doctor who called my name out as “Marianne British”. I tried to explain that my surname is not “British”, it’s just a British passport then decided it wasn’t the most important thing to communicate. Vix had typed out a description of the situation in Google translate to avoid confusion but this just meant the doctor spoke about me to Vix, as if she was my carer. I can actually see the funny side now. After telling Vix several times that the patient was NOT allowed to drink alcohol on top of the cocktail of antibiotics and anti inflammatories and two other medications even Vix in her actual capacity as real life nurse hadn’t heard of, we left with instructions of bed rest and ice. The whole thing cost about £30.

God knows what the lovely hotel staff thought about two scruffy backpackers who checked into room 211 (“dos once” in Spanish), stuck the “do not disturb” sign on the door and weren’t seen again other than via room service requests for large amounts of ice, toilet paper refills and vegetarian food. On our first night the chef made us a meal of gnocchi and vegetables, which is what they came up with when we asked if there was a single option without meat. Trying to communicate on the phone in Spanish that the chef had made a special meal the night before and could he do it again, was very challenging. Vix managed it but when I tried it just never turned up.

Breakfast

I found it very hard to understand Paraguayan Spanish and they didn’t understand me, until we realised they just don’t pronounce most of the syllables. When Vix politely asked for a taxi from the hospital back to our hotel Las Ventanas, the driver looked confused for a while then repeated back ‘ah, la vetaaaaaa’. Likewise, an ‘americano’ coffee is simply ‘amerraaoo’. The next week was spent watching movies on the huge TV, stealing food from the amazing buffet breakfast for lunch and hobbling around by the pool we mostly had to ourselves. The other guests were nicely dressed Paraguayans visiting for the holiday weekend, and overweight men from what we think was a diabetes drug convention during the week. Meanwhile we wandered around looking like wasters.

My favourite chairs in the hotel

After a few days I could walk a bit more, very grateful to have avoided a hospital stay – thanks to my lovely kind travelling companion Vix! There there are quite a few things to do around the area, although I didn’t want to risk any more waterfalls or nature type places… We went to visit the Itaipu dam instead. We had just got in the taxi at 12.55 when our helpful hotel man called the driver and told him to hurry up so we would make the 13.00 tour. With classic getaway driving, we did the predicted fifteen minute journey in five.

Electricity

Itaipu is the 3rd largest hydroelectric dam in the world and produces the second most electricity, powering all of Paraguay and a significant amount of Brazil. It’s free to take the bus tour around the site, including the Brazilian side, although the commentary is in Spanish. The power of the water is amazing and it’s well worth a visit. There’s also a lovely gift shop with local handicrafts – our taxi driver went to sit in his car and wait.

Water flowing over the Itaipu Dam
Harnessing the power
Beavis and Buttthead or two stupid Gringos?

There are also a couple of museums in the area but unfortunately they were both closed, which we found out when we pulled up in yet another taxi only to see the gate fully padlocked, so we went straight back to the hotel via the supermarket. By this point we were ready to leave Ciudad del Este and head to Asuncion, the capital of Paraguay, but our plans were thwarted again as ALL of the highways out of town were closed to protestors. There had just been an election and supporters of the losing right wing party were starting fires on the roads. Our initial thought was to try to get there on the backroads, but when we heard they had overturned an ambulance, and police were disbursing crowds in the capital with rubber bullets we decided to wait it out.

Me and Johnny in the Growler Bar

Each day we would ring down to the front desk, ask if the roads were open yet and confirm we were staying another day. We became so used to just saying ‘dos once’ when we wanted anything that we half-jokingly discussed getting tattoos – until I Googled it and found that 211 is a notorious white supremacist prison gang.

The Growler Bar

Where better to kill time than in the The Growler Bar, aka local rock music venue, which happened to be right next door and finally open after being closed all week. They even went to buy fresh pineapple juice to make me a non alcoholic cocktail and we stayed about 6 hours listening to tunes, eating cassava fries with a ridiculously spicy sauce and getting intel on the capital. The barman, who was from Asuncion, warned us how dangerous the city was and said we couldn’t possibly stay in the old town like we wanted, mimicking stabbing someone to drive home his point. When he wasn’t telling Vix all about his open marriage and how he too was a nurse and a physio and ever other detail of his life, he took some great photos of us next to the rock and roll memorabilia wall. He obviously thought we had more money than we did, as he personally phoned the Crowne Plaza hotel in Asuncion to check the price.

May I help you?

The riots were over and the roads were open again in the morning, so we could finally leave. Buying bus tickets in Paraguay is neither easy nor efficient – you need to enter your passport number about ten times, you only get three minutes to enter all your details and the website rejected all of our credit cards. We finally booked by taking over the front desk computer, otherwise our hotel man had kindly offered to go in person at 6am in the morning to physically get them for us. Anything to make sure we actually left this place – I’m not entirely sure our jokes that ‘we live here now’ were taken as humour.

Traffic lights are fun when you have street entertainers – I missed the one juggling knives.

And that’s proof you can spend a week in Ciudad del Este! The Country Club has some really good restaurants if you can be bothered to leave your hotel – we had a great meal at a Japanese/Pizza fusion place. And plenty of pharmacies to stock up on drugs you can’t get at home. The only thing we didn’t get to do was ride around in one of the golf buggies we saw parked around the place although I’m sure if we’d asked our hotel they would have obliged. Las Ventanas did have the nicest hotel staff I’ve ever come across, who went out of their way to help us with anything we needed. Our favourite front desk man recommended a nicer, cheaper hotel than the Crowne Plaza, in the old town like we wanted and he laughed when we recreated the ‘stabby stabby’ warning from the barman next door – it’s perfectly safe in the daytime apparently. Final stop Asuncion!

The Dollar Blue, The Devil’s Mouth and the Three Frontiers (Buenos Aires and Iguazú Falls)

We departed Uruguay via the ferry to Argentina after about ten days visiting a handful of places along the coast. Uruguay has been absolutely lovely and there is plenty to see and do, albeit more in high season, but for some reason this little country is often not part of the standard South America gringo trail. We just had time to walk around the jetty in Colonia with it’s fancy yachts and get whistled at by some men on a boat that was called “Zero Tolerance” of all things. Shame we weren’t invited on board for a drink!

First glimpse of Argentina

It was great catching my first view of Buenos Aries again after all these years, barely visible under a smog cloud. After taking an Uber from the ferry terminal (which turfs you out a back door onto the smoking area on the street outside) we couldn’t find our hostel, “Del 900 Boutique” in the Monserrat district. The man at customs wasn’t even going to let me in the country without the hostel address, which I hadn’t saved and didn’t have Wi-Fi but he did let me run after Vix to get the details – luckily I got her attention just before she left the building.

Vix showing me the hostel address through the glass wall
“Little door”

A lady in the restaurant on the corner said it was just next door, “through a tiny little door”. Eventually we realised the entrance was actually through one of the biggest doors I’ve ever seen, housed in the most amazing colonial building. The doorway led us up a staircase and into the grandest hostel lobby that surely exists.… piano, leather sofas, old pool table … all under the highest of ceilings.

Hostel lobby
View from our private balcony

First hurdle – we tried to pay the hostel using the dollars we got from the ATM in Uruguay as hostels here generally only accept cash, but they wouldn’t take them as they were old. I knew that in Argentina the money exchanges only took the brand new notes in $100 bills and had come prepared with some but wanted to keep that as a backup. Second hurdle – trying to understand what the hell is going on with the currency in Argentina. What you need is the “blue dollar”, the rate you get when you physically sell a USD on the street or in a “cueva” (cave) for Argentine pesos and they will all take the older dollars for a slightly lower rate. This essentially doubles your money compared to if you went to an ATM (not that I could now both working cards were cancelled).

News on TV
Rates for the current minute

As you walk down the street in the gold district all you hear is “cambio cambio cambio”. With counterfeit Argentinan pesos in circulation we asked the hostel where a reliable exchange was. Changing the money was an activity in itself – the place we eventually changed our money at was fronting as a tourist office where they ushered us in to a booth with a one way mirror so we couldn’t see the cashier’s face. We did a crash course on YouTube in how to spot a fake and tested a small amount in a souvenir shop before changing up the rest.

A protest in Plaza de Mayo

The blue dollar value was changing minute by minute and it was being reported on the news that with inflation approaching 95%, people earning under a certain amount were not being paid. It’s much raise to change up your dollars and stick to cash as confusingly when we paid with card in a few shops expecting the official rate, a few days later we’d get random refunds appearing. When we finally got the cash and paid our hostel, the real cost to us had gone down to about a tenner each per night 🤯

Pretending not to be Wasters

With our new stash we enjoyed a fancy evening meal of pesto pasta with a genuinely good bottle of red wine. I always loved the restaurants in Buenos Aires, the huge areas and set tables and waiters in waistcoats, and the bowls of bread brought to the table (worth the table charge).

An “influencer” ruining my shot

We only spent two night in Buenos Aries, mostly as a stop over before flying up to Iguazu and a trip down memory lane for me. With one full day, we walked up to the area of La Recoleta and browsed the shops and cafes.

There’s a rock bar in there somewhere

We had another attempt at finding a rock bar as we went to the “Rock and Beer” pub which had an active social media page and looked like it might be a lively spot. After walking up and down past the location several times we eventually saw it all padlocked up. As Vix said, it couldn’t have been more shut if it were on fire. We also passed several signs taunting us that KISS and Deep Purple were playing next week.

I love how busy Buenos Airies is and that you can walk around at night without ending up in a favela. The worst that happened to us was when we walked past a couple performing tango outside a restaurant. We only stopped to watch for a couple of minutes but they saw us taking a sneaky photo and as soon as the music finished they appeared in front of us like magic asking for payment. Vix pretended we couldn’t speak any English and we escaped before we had to part with any of our precious remaining currency, avoiding another slightly stressful trip to a money cave.

The Obelix by night

One of my favourite things about Buenos Airies is the breakfast that is served at all of the cafes and bistro type places. For about £2.50 you get a really good coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice and tostadas (toasted bread) served on a board with jam.

More protests

We booked a flight up to Iguazu to save a 18 hour bus and there isn’t much of a price difference if you want the “cama” bed style seat. As we left we passed more protestors. These ones had closed a motorway lane by burning tires. The taxi driver explained this area had been without power for weeks now so we saw their point.

Arriving in Puerto Iguazú meant a return to hot and tropical weather. You need to be more careful in general in border towns and this one is part of the Three Frontiers, linking Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. We booked a hostel hoping for some information on Iguazú Falls, or a social element, but again those elements were lacking. The staff at the Iguazu Falls Hostel could not have been less interested in us if they tried, and our room was down a rabbit warren of corridors, the floor slippery from leaks and padded out with cardboard. Every question like “where can I do laundry?” was met with the minimum effort answer of “no”.

Back at Iguazú

We did our own thing and found a laundrette, money changer and nice restaurant and in the morning we headed off on the bus to Las Cataracas, otherwise known as Iguazú Falls. It’s actually really easy to get there with buses running every 20 minutes from the bus station in town and you don’t need any type of tour.

Not exactly prepared for what was coming

I had been to the falls on my previous trip but the customary boat trip has changed (the route I took back then is now considered unsafe apparently!) and the Devils Mouth walkway up to the top is now open so I was keen to revisit.

Lunch area

We made friends with an older couple from Argentina/Mexico, a spinal surgeon and his wife, who we chatted with whilst waiting for the jeep ride to take us through the jungle down to the jetty for the boat trip. The world’s most boring guide provided some commentary in lazy Spanish with an even lazier English translation that I barely understood, before they threw life jackets at us and bundled everyone onto the boat. The ride up to the base of the horseshoe shaped falls was as spectacular as I remembered. I remembered getting wet, and the excited screams of everyone shouting “otra vez!” to go again. What I did not remember was going so close to the falls that you’re hit in the face by a wall of water over and over again – the driver casually announced that “now we are going to take a shower”.

First part of the boat ride

Below is my attempt at videoing one of the close ups. Vix described it as 100 cubic metres of parasitic water chucked in your face but she managed to video it all (too big to upload here). At least I had taken off my shoes and put my stuff in the dry bag that they provided.

Best video I’ve ever taken

The Argentinan surgeon had everyone laughing as he’d worn a poncho – don’t ever wear something like this again he said, it’s a waterfall in your balls 😳

Reasons not to wear a poncho

The boat driver was also having some fun of his own on the way back, taking us over the rapids. The boat is still the best way to really experience the power of one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. It’s overwhelming, it’s so, so much fun, everyone is screaming and laughing and it’s really impossible to put the feeling into words other than you’re alive.

Our shadows off to the Devils Mouth

Soaking wet (denim shorts are NOT the best choice) and slightly shellshocked, we grabbed a sandwich and a coffee from the cafeteria area which still looked the same as it did ten years ago and got straight on the little train towards the Devil’s Mouth, “la Garganta del Diablo.”

See the mist from the falls

Really you need two days here to explore the jungle trails with so many different birds (over 400 species) and beautiful butterflies that land on you.

Unfortunately butterflies are not the only thing that might land on you – I was walking along minding my own business covered in Deet to repel the mozzies when something stung me on the back of the ankle. It was such a shock that I fell over and dropped my sandwich into the dirt but somehow kept hold of my coffee. A passerby said it was probably a black wasp, common in the park. Once the pain subsided and I had replaced my lunch we continued to the walkways providing a passage over the river to reach the Devils Mouth.

Vix on her way

The bridges take you right up to the “mouth” of the falls where the Iguazú river drops 80m over multiple cascades in a semi circle 2700m in diameter. The river itself is the border between Argentina and Brazil. Because we were there at the end of the day we had it almost to ourselves. It was all nice and calm and we were happily taking photos under the rainbow when out of nowhere it changed and we were drenched again.

Trying to get a selfie at the top
Poem on display

We were quite literally the last to leave the Devils Mouth, heading back to get the ultimo train back to the park entrance, followed by a cleaning man sweeping the paths clear of any litter. We were later passed by a group of Coati, the real clean up crew, on the lookout for leftover lunches.

The Coati clean up crew
The feeling you’re being watched on the train

Back in Puerto Iguazú, and nice and dry, we enjoyed a meal and quite a few drinks (I still blame Vix as a Negroni is pure alcohol). The next day it was time to pack up again and embark on our adventure to Paraguay. We wanted to go the fun way via boat over the river rather than bus or taxi. Unfortunately my foot had swelled up from the wasp sting so we had to taxi to the port 🙄 after some last minute souvenir shopping as always …

Caballos and Colonia

After leaving Cabo Polonio on the jeep in the rain, we arrived back at the visitors centre. Our next stop was only a 15 minute drive north so with the next bus not for a couple of hours we took a taxi to Los Chajá ecolodge, on the edge of the small beachside down of Barra de Valizas. This place was recommended to me by another lodge that I wanted to go to (vegetarian, horses, specified they were “not a dude ranch”) but was closed at the moment. We fell in love with the place as soon as we got there – we had a beautiful thatched roof chalet all to ourselves, one of only two on the property and directly surrounded by twenty horses munching on the marshland.

By day

It was such a stark contrast to the last hostel that the lovely owner, Laura, must have thought I was mad exclaiming “oh wow there is a fridge! And a kettle!”.

By night

This is the sort of place you could come back to for a week, you can cook in your own kitchen and eat on the porch with the dogs (Laura and her partner Mauro just rescued a set of puppies as well as their two older dogs) and horses who will try to steal the breakfast that Laura brings over in the morning.

View from the porch

Most of all we enjoyed making hot chocolate with soya milk in the evenings and quizzing each other on South American mammals (there were no English books in the library!). Turns out I have a weirdly specific knowledge of how many teeth a certain type of anteater has. In order to have a hot shower you had to light the gas hob, turn on the kitchen hot tap, run to the bathroom and turn the hot shower on, then turn off the kitchen tap and hob. These instructions were actually written in the welcome booklet. This made me nervous as I was still mentally scarred from the Cabo Polonio gas leak.

Quiz master Vix

On our way back from buying supplies at the little supermarket, as the sun set car drove up the road towards us, turned around the mini roundabout and stopped. A very friendly smiley couple wound the windows down and offered us a lift, asking if we were staying at the lodge. Not wanting to accept a lift from strangers, we declined and they drove off back the way they came. This felt like a very safe place but why did they drive up then turn around and how did they know where we were staying?!

The next day we went horse riding within the Cabo Polonio national park along the beach. First of all Laura made sure we greeted our horses (Arthur and Brisa) and could control the direction and speed the Gaucho way. No pulling on reins or kicking, just use one hand to gently steer and your voice to go faster or slower.

Companions

The beach was absolutely stunning, just us and Thea the dog, and maybe one or two people we passed along the four hour round trip to the Buena Vista viewpoint where we dismounted to climb up.

Making shadows at the top of the viewpoint

Riding through sand dunes, along the beach and through Wild West type desert landscape was incredible. As we led the horses through the steeper parts of the dunes we noticed they also try to step in existing footprints as it’s easier, just like we do. We passed a herd of cows on the beach but the best part was seeing the group of horses who had just popped down from the village to the beach on their own to enjoy the weather. They were just hanging out by the water until our dog Thea had a go and they galloped off into town – I’ve never heard actual thundering hooves before. Vix’s horse almost went with them.

Cows on the beach

We also loved brushing and feeding the horses – if this place offers a volunteer program I’m there!

Sunset over the lagoon on the ride
Wild horses

We did almost destroy the place though – in the same five minutes, the bottom fell off the sink and water went all over the floor, something happened to the gas heater and the room filled with gas and then the cover fell off the air vent. We opened all the windows and turned everything off before calling Laura, who was out on a ride. When she got back and saw both the bathroom sink and gas no longer worked she looked slightly worried and moved us to the other chalet as the other couple were just leaving. As they waved we realised they were the same nice couple that had kindly offered us the lift last night and they were not in fact after our kidneys.

Morning dew
Breakfast companion Rocky

There is only one bus out of this place per day, at 15.00. With checkout in the morning, and everything closed and deserted for the low season, we wandered down to the beach and made more doggy friends before catching the supermarket before it closed to buy avocados and wraps for our staple meal (thanks Vix!). We did, however, find the only bar open in town and enjoyed a Patricia lager with some locals who welcomed us in and even offered to turn their music down. The owner said we were beautiful like Patricia.

Deserted town of Barra de Valizas
We found the beer

We waited at the bus stop as the daily bus trundled into town, turned around and came back to pick us up on the way out. With no real internet for several days now we hadn’t booked any accommodation nor were we sure if we could make it all the way to Colonia. It was about 5 hours back to the capital city of Montevideo, where we literally jumped off, ran to the ticket office and got ourselves onto the Colonia bus ten minutes later which was full of teenagers going on a night out to a club. We were absolutely starving by the time we arrived and spent the entire 3 hour journey on the bus Wi-Fi trying to find anywhere that would let us check in after midnight – turns out most places expect you before then 🤦🏻‍♀️

Back after 12 years

We found a hotel that responded just in time and walked the few blocks through the quiet cobbled streets of Colonia – in a huge contrast to Brazil where we couldn’t do that in the daytime! The journey was worth it to wake up in Colonia, as beautiful as I remembered it being ten years ago. The only thing that has changed is that there were loads of old cars, Cuban style, last time I was there which seemed to have gone now aside from a couple outside a restaurant.

Found an old car!

Our hotel didn’t have room for us the following night which turned out to be a blessing as we moved just around the corner to an apartment in a the most gorgeous original colonial building. We booked it at 10.50 and arrived at 11.00 to find the lovely Fred, an artist who struggled to hear sometimes over his hearing aid, just finishing preparing the room. To stay in one of these buildings was amazing and we made use of the pretty garden. We had already walked past the door and taken photos of it, before realising that was in fact our new home.

Fred’s doorway
Vegan seitan version of the local dish

The day was spent wandering around the streets and eating too much fried food in a restaurant on the sea with live music (a man pretending to play guitar and singing “Mi Corazon” with some dramatic gestures in between solar charging his equipment on the table). As well as trying to get cash – my bank card also had to be cancelled as someone had tried to swipe it in Cabo Polonio, possibly by holding a card reader against the locker, so I spent an hour trying to explain to HSBC “the local bank” that no I could not pop into a local branch as I’m in Uruguay, and no I cannot verify a payment if they can’t tell me any details, and locking me out of the banking app “for security” was the least helpful thing they could have done. We withdrew a load of US dollars on Vix’s working card to hopefully avoid needing any more ATMs for the rest of the trip.

We still haven’t found the party – we did find a rock bar with promising art work, but when we asked what’s on tonight they said they have a reggaeton DJ at weekends.

You can easily “see” Colonia in a day but it’s a lovely place to enjoy the atmosphere, walk along the coast and stroll around so you could equally easily spend a week here. But I was really keen to return to Buenos Airies again which fitted in perfectly with the ferry across to Argentina …

British Girls on a Ride and The Wasters (Uruguay Part 1)

After five lazy beach days, we took a cheap flight from the island of Florianopolis, Brazil to the often overlooked capital of Uruguay, Montevideo. I have been to Uruguay once before but only on a day trip from Buenos Airies during my first trip to South America over ten years ago. At the airport in Sao Paolo where we changed planes, we noticed people taking selfies with an older man – naturally we had to get one too, having no clue who it was. He turned out to be Martinho da Vila the 85 year old Brazilian samba star.

In Montevideo we stayed two nights at the Yorki Haus hostel, run by a German man and a French man. We had a prison style room at the very top of the building with a gorgeous rooftop to ourselves.

Morning coffee

An annoying family had taken over the kitchen, which I didn’t mind until I spent ages making coffee using our £10 Starbucks ground coffee (literally the only coffee in any supermarket without added sugar) then as soon as I turned my back to spread my £10 peanut butter on my toast The Dad poured the rest of the coffee and took it for himself.

Montevideo city beach

Seeing the capital city at the weekend was great. We found a great little bar just down the road that served veggie sandwiches and cocktails and played Latin rock, and during the day we walked the few kilometres down to the old town along the beach amongst locals jogging and exercising on a Saturday morning. Like much of South America, it doesn’t get going until the afternoon. We browsed the antique shops and had an amazing lunch of grilled vegetables before making our way back via the supermarket to stock up on food for the next few days when we would be “off grid” in the hippy town of Cabo Polonio.

Old town in Montevideo

Having looked up rock bars in Montevideo, thinking surely we’d finally find a night out in the capital, we got an Uber across town to the “best rock bar in Uruguay”, the Roxx Bar. When we arrived at a deserted residential looking street, we asked the driver if the place even existed. The driver asked the one man hanging around outside, who explained the that he was also waiting as the owner was a “a bit late opening up”. It was already almost 11pm so after waiting for a while we decided that even if the owner did turn up, it would just be the three of so maybe not that exciting. Luckily we found a friendly welcome and a live punk covers band at Clash City Rockers bar down the road, even though it was cash only so we had just enough money for two beers between us.

Where does this hostel door go?!
Punk band

Next morning we set off early to the huge and modern Tres Cruces bus terminal to get a 4.5 hour bus northeast up the coast to Cabo Polonio. It’s a scenic journey and we passed a few places we’d have been happy to get off and explore. When you get off at Cabo Polonia bus station, there is a visitors centre where you hang around for a while before a large jeep type vehicle takes you all through the sand dunes to the village, three times a day.

Whilst waiting for the jeep we made our debuts on Uruguayan daytime TV when we were asked for an interview about our visit with host Mario – although half of what we said wasn’t translated, somehow my name was changed to Alice and I have no idea where the “British Girls on a Ride” tag line came from 🤦🏻‍♀️ It’s available on YouTube although I haven’t yet got over the cringe factor enough to watch it (what was the point in asking if we are planning on coming back again when we haven’t been there yet?).

Jeep transport

Cabo Polonio is about 9km off the main highway and there are no proper roads there. The driver had to take a run up over one mound and we passed some military looking types that were well and truly stuck in the sand. We finally reached the Lobo Hostel Bar, which we had chosen for its sociable setting and billing as the local bar – seeing as we were there off season and we didn’t want to be totally isolated. We accidentally went to the nice welcoming looking guesthouse next door, with music playing from the restaurant and tables and chairs outside – I later realised they only turn the music on and put the chairs out when the morning jeep arrives with new visitors. I never saw it open again.

Entrance to our room

Neither of us have particularly high expectations for accommodation. In fact we have pretty low standards. When the woman running the place, Celia (we think that was her name) showed us to our attic room up a ladder with only a rope to hold on to, lockable only by our own padlock, we took it as part of the adventure. We loved the window that opened directly on to the little rooftop that we had to ourselves. We loved the wind turbine next to the roof. We didn’t mind the fact the blanket on the bed was full of leaves, until we got bed bugs. I gave Celia, aka the Hunchback of Cabo Polonia, the benefit of the doubt when she shortchanged us even though another backpacker told us she’d done the same thing to her friend. We tried to cook our pasta on the frankly disgusting stove that stank of a gas leak and made me feel sick everytime I went near it. The only thing the Hunchback really said was how ugly the newer houses were (we thought they were really pretty) and essentially how tourists were ruining the place.

Oil soaked floor

But we drew the line when we went down the ladder to make dinner in the kitchen we had paid to use, to find pieces of cardboard on the floor soaking up an oil spill, a “do not use” sign on the sink though there was nothing wrong with it and the fridge had been unplugged. The Hunchback was from then on referred to by Vix (whose socks were now soaked in oil) as Oil Slick Mcgoo when she tried to blame her other guests for spilling the oil and leaving it. The oil was never cleaned up over the three nights we were there, it just stayed all over the floor next to the open flame (if she’d turn the gas on and lend you a lighter).

Local pharmacy, all shut
Mammals to look out for

There is a very old fashioned supermarket in the village, which weighs fruit and vegetables the old way and is open all day other than around 3-5. The empanadas looked suspiciously like the ones from yesterday, every morning, but we were just glad they took Visa since with one of my cards already lost to cloning and no ATMs in the town we had limited funds. No problem – the shop sold a great selection of wine and anything over £8 they would accept cards for. Win win (until my Visa was also stopped a few days later for a dodgy contactless transaction which was either the shop or the hostel trying their luck).

Ancient supermarket

On our first night we went with another girl to try to see the glowing Bioluminescence, a type of plankton, in the water. This was a total fail but it was fun to walk around the lighthouse at night in the pitch black other than the lighthouse signal itself.

Bone, fossil or rock outside a “new” house
Lighthouse Dog

There are certain characters you encounter over again when backpacking. “The Waster” is one of them. They are usually European backpackers who have stayed too long doing nothing or maybe “volunteering” / skiving at a hostel, typically looking horrible and miserable. The man “working” at the hostel was definitely a Waster.

Bomb?

April being low season, it was a total ghost town. The next morning I tried to make us both coffee in the morning but The Hunchback had thrown the cafetière in the bin. I asked The Waster and he reluctantly gave me another from their own fully functioning kitchen. After a lot off faff trying to get it going and avoiding the oil spill and carbon monoxide poisoning, I knocked the whole thing over and was about to spontaneously combust myself when Vix calmed me down and we got the hell out of there. With nowhere open, we found an old man who opened up his tiny cafe to shelter us and two other other desperate tourists from the rain and served us coffee on a little silver tray with shaking hands.

Lighthouse

Spot the seal

The dogs of Cabo Polonio deserve a mention – friendly and sociable, they each have their own patch. As we walked though the village each day we would meet each one in turn, from the Hostel Dog who hung out on our rooftop and probably gave us fleas, to the Town Dog half way across the village that seemed blind, to the gorgeous blue eyed Lighthouse Dog that accompanied us on our search for the seals.

Solar powered cinema, obviously closed
Improvised wine glass to avoid dirty hostel cup

There is a large area of “new” houses on the other side of the village, but not a single person in sight. One house had what looked like a massive spinal bone out front, one had an old bomb and most had some piece of unique art embedded into the walls.

Having given up on cooking at the hostel, we found the one more expensive restaurant that took Visa and lived it up with a lovely vegetable stir fry. Totally worth it for the view and a comfy place to hang out and drink (we went back every day). Vix even went into the sea and swam with the tiny creatures whose heads we had seen from the shore but never could find out what they were (dolphin / turtle / baby seal depending upon who you asked).

Our rooftop came into it’s own at night- this was the clearest sky I’ve seen in a long time, with the Milky Way visible end to end. I also loved having the chance to switch off from your phone with very limited electricity, and candle light in the evening means you can enjoy the night sky. But we were sitting in darkness in the hostel as the candles in the plastic bottles burned out while The Wasters cooked up a storm in the fully lit up “restaurant” kitchen next door.

Avocado, tomato and bean wraps on the roof – no cooking required

It poured with rain as we left on the jeep a few days later, after making our way back to the Visa restaurant only to find it closed and begging a man there to make us an instant coffee. We only left our stuff in the hostel for an hour, my big bag which was locked and putting our smaller bags in a locker. When we returned from coffee, both combination locks had been tampered with. Our feeling was that The Wasters either tried to get in or just turned the codes to mess with us, something I have never experienced at a hostel before. It’s probably a good thing we did our TV interview before our visit!

View from the Visa restaurant
Breakfast- miniature bag of cornflakes from our bag of snacks and £3 instant coffee

You’d expect some Filthy Hippies at an off grid community and I love the idea behind Cabo Polonio and self sufficiency but the the place we stayed had no recycling and was just filthy, which goes against the values of an eco town. But the area itself is absolutely stunning with miles of unspoilt coastline and the nature is amazing – definitely worth a visit for a few days if you stay in one of the nice guesthouses. It’s also nice to be there off season when you can enjoy the peace and quiet.

Visa cat
Visa and bitcoin accepted?!
Jeep ride out – only one poor guy was on the inbound jeep as we left

Saying goodbye to Cabo, we continued the off grid theme as we headed to a horse “eco lodge” just a few miles up the coast…

Floripa – Canoes, Caipirinhas and Capybara!

Three weeks in and brand new travel companion Vix has flown out to Sao Paolo to join me for the next four weeks. Vix and I met at a some dingy London rock bar and also share a love for travelling. Helen and I eventually got to the MADA hostel about 10pm after the epic taxi ride that took four hours instead of six due to the excessive speed and overtaking on blind bends. At least on a bus you can read a book or sleep! Unhelpfully the entrance road to the MADA hostel is closed entirely after 8pm, meaning Vix couldn’t get past the gates and we had to walk around the block via dark empty streets which defeats the object of staying in an hostel close to the action in Villa Madalena.

With too much choice of noisy bars we ended up gate crashing what seemed like kids birthday party. Everything I tried to order on the menu was unavailable so we settled for some chips which instead of coming with a chimichurri sauce like the menu suggested, came with a little bowl of what tasted like vegetable stock powder. Better than Helen who got curry powder. But we were excited to see they had one of the 360 spinny video things which we were the only adults to have a go on.

Batman Alley street art

Wanting to get straight to the beach and having said goodbye to Helen, the next day Vix and I booked an overnight bus south to Florianopolis. The free day also gave me a chance to actually see some of Sao Paolo and we spent the perfect afternoon wandering around Batman Alley, checking out the graffiti and going on a spending spree at the market. Who knew I needed a top with cashew nut flowers on it?

Market near Batman Alley

In the evening we stumbled on a plant based restaurant around the corner while we were waiting’s for the bus. This was an even weirder dining experience as we were the only customers in there and the waiters were dressed up in overalls like oversized toddlers. Vix caught one particularly surly old waiter gesticulating at her like an angry Italian, and then as she continued her spending spree by buying some a coffee cup with a saucer shaped like a leaf and the friendly overalls man spent a very long time wrapping it up like the Easter bunny, she clocked the angry overalls man walk past me after washing his hands and flicking the water at my legs. Luckily I didn’t see this.

Bus terminal or airport?

The Sao Paolo bus terminal is like no bus station I’ve seen before, with airport style check in counters and endless shops and facilities. As ever a simple question seems to generate much discussion, as we asked the information desk where our bus company desk was, the two staff had a long discussion and examined our tickets for a while before directing us just around the corner and saying “go with God”. Not really what you want to hear when you are getting on a 12 hour night bus.

Sleeper bus

We tried to sit in the clean seating area but the cleaners physically moved us on – the woman picked up Vix’s bag and moved her. The other seating areas absolutely stank- unfortunately the areas that were not cafes or shops were acting as homeless shelters. Vix notes that we would need to be on crack to keep up here. The “cama” (bed) bus was also like no other, with almost fully reclining seats, pillows and blankets although I still can’t sleep on public transport 🤦🏻‍♀️. It did cost almost £100 after all the service and tax additions! The bus also makes a few stops at huge service stations where you could eat and stretch your legs.

Buy your beach clothes at the beach

We had stocked up on food and drinks – first Vix opened her cashew nut drink and immediately closed it as it stank like rotten cheese. Then she opened her mango juice and it fizzed like bicarbonate of soda. Only when we read the ingredients did we realise it was super double concentrated.

We arrived in Florianopolis (nicknamed Floripa) around 10am and got an Uber to the island side, staying in the Barroa de Lago where there are lots of hostels . It’s still low season though so aside from the groups of Argentinians, most of whom seemed to be volunteering at the hostel, it was pretty quiet.

Lots of people had recommended Florianopolis and I could immediately see why. It’s way more relaxed, with little coffee shops and beach bars and it felt much safer at night. We initially booked three nights but extended to five as we loved our private room in the hostel with a balcony and the outdoor space and bar downstairs. Staying a few nights somewhere means you can actually use the kitchen facilities and cook your own food – novelty! Avocado wraps and tomato and lentil pasta never tasted so good.

There is actually loads to do in Florianopolis and you could spend a couple of weeks here and move around different parts of the island.

Vix and the little surfer boy in the background we may have pretended was our adoptive son

At the beach people are ready to sell you grilled cheese, churros, drinks and even roll out racks of clothes and bikinis. You actually don’t need to bring anything. Like stupid tourists we got burnt and spent the next few glorious weather days hiding from the sun – we crossed the bridge, walked through the jungle path to the natural pools to a stunning sunset point.

One day was literally spent drinking banana caprinhas on a tiny beach over the bridge. This is the best drink I have ever tasted in my life. Another day was spent purely on getting laundry done, drinking oat lattes at what became our favourite café hangout with the lovely Flor.

Laundry

I had really wanted to see the world’s largest rodent, the Capybara, in the wetlands of the Pantanal (one of the reasons why I voted for that over the Amazon) but aside from the fleeting glimpse at night I haven’t been in luck. Turns out Vix has an obsession with Capybara too. We even asked the hostel barman where we could see one and he mentioned there might be a family of them somewhere down the river at night.

The staff at the hostel were lovely but all volunteers from Argentina and none been there more than a couple of weeks so unfortunately pretty useless when it came to providing basic information like what to do. Luckily we found fisherman Luis down by the river and he said come back in the morning and we could have two shiny green kayaks for £6 each for the day. Next morning he was nowhere to be seen and someone else tried to sell us just one kayak for a worse deal. But we persevered and eventually somebody else went off and found Luis (he’d had too many caipirinhas the night before) and he came through on his deal. Off we went in with a little map and his instructions to go inland (ie not into the sea) and where to stop for a good caiprinha.

Lunch with a view

The river is really beautiful and we passed by pretty guesthouses and the occasional boat, and a man sitting on the riverside who shouted across that we had provided the mornings entertainment when the wind picked up and Vix was hanging on a mooring dock for a rest and each time I stopped rowing to take a photo I’d end up a good few metres back again. By this point it was clear the map had no relation to reality. After a couple of hours we needed that drink so we rowed up to a classy looking riverside restaurant and the waiter pulled us in with an rope so we could climb up to the deck. After we’d sat down and ordered a £20 Mushroom Moqueca and a man started playing guitar, I noticed everyone else was smartly dressed – as Vix said, we are on somebody else’s expensive holiday and we’ve rocked up in green rental kayaks.

We decided to make an afternoon of it and ordered a few Negroni’s then the most magical thing happened – I looked up and saw not one but a whole family of gentle Capybara with two babies just getting into the river for a swim. The rest of the diners must have thought we were mad the way we leapt up from our table almost crying at the sight.

Erm….credit to amazing Vix for this one

With the wind on our side we rowed back in the half the time with a takeout box of leftover food the restaurant packaged up (which I nearly lost as somehow Luis thought I had offered it to him and he tried to take it but Vix snatched it back) and for a strawberry capririnha on the beach. That turned out to be pure cachaha (the local liquor) and undrinkable even for Vix. We got back to the hostel still excited from the Capy sighting but when we told the barman he just told us off for accidentally bringing in alcohol from outside. I suppose nobody was as excited as us.

Probably because it’s low season now, there is zero night life. When we asked the capybara barman where’s the party he just laughed and said “it’s a Monday “. The beach bars close at 17.00 around sunset and the only restaurant around was a Japanese buffet which had some life with a guitarist playing some Red Hot Chilli Peppers covers – maybe that’s where the party was all along?

There are some hikes to a nudist beach (gave that a miss, still have bad memories of Budleigh Salterton) and other trails we would have explored if we had stayed longer. The local bus costs £1 and takes under half hour to get into the town which is great for a browse around and we walked back past the sand dunes and kite surfers.

Looking like I’m about to flag down a ride in Arizona

The initial plan was to bus it down the coast into Uruguay but with the cost of the buses almost the same as a flight and two more days in Florianopolis rather than Porto Alegre and Chui we took the easy route. Next stop, the mostly unknown capital of Uruguay, Montevideo….

Ilha Grande to Paraty

As we left Rio, to make the bus and boat journey to the island of Ilha Grande easier, we booked a three hour transfer from the hostel desk. Two hours later we were still in the minibus and just pulling up at the airport to collect the last passenger (the airport that is only half hour away to start with) courtesy of a very annoying family who were not even at their hotel at pickup time let alone ready to leave, then had the audacity to ask the driver to stop at a cash machine. When we finally got everybody on board the driver had have enough himself and declared we were stopping at a restaurant for 30 minutes. By the time we got to the port we had missed the boat plus we had noticed that everyone else paid on the bus and paid five pounds less than we had. The bus driver bought boat tickets for everyone, gave them to one girl to look after for all of us and instructed us to line our luggage up in the middle for some unknown reason. At least there was a police guard to protect the sitting ducks.

By the time we made the half hour crossing on a boat that reminded me of a lifeboat, and arrived on the island six hours later it was dark. And I mean dark – the island power was off. Of course we had booked the guesthouse furthest from the beach and there were no wheelbarrow luggage helpers here. At least we had our head torches to help navigate the sandy lanes and we found our home for the next three nights.

Breakfast

We walked back down to the town to find some food and were looking at the menu at a busy restaurant when a man wandered over from the street, holding a plastic bag, and said something we didn’t understand. I hazarded a guess he was asking for money and said no thank you which was a bit awkward when he turned out to be the waiter. Thus commenced a bizarre evening where he took our order then forgot about it and we played 6 games of Monopoly Deal before getting a horrible meal. When I asked someone else that I assumed was a waitress for some water, she repeated back “you want water??” with an incredulous look as if I’d asked for the most ridiculous thing imaginable. By the end we still weren’t sure if the original man worked there or not. But the island’s power came back on and everyone cheered.

In the morning we saw how beautiful our little guesthouse really was, with hammocks and a pool and a lovely breakfast lady squeezing fresh juice who spoke no English but used Google translate to talk to us. We were the only guests in the whole place so had our own private breakfast buffet of fruit and rolls and cake. After some planning the night before, we set off on the most popular hike across the island to Lopez Mendes, “the most beautiful beach in Brazil”, billed as it’s a tough 3 hour, 6.1km hike (“expert” level) with limited supplies on the way. We bought a picnic lunch of sandwiches (unfortunately they toasted them) and enough crisps and water to survive for a week.

In actual fact this is a really beautiful hike through the jungle, only passing a few other people, and not really difficult at all if you have a reasonable level of fitness. I especially enjoyed the tiny section that required a rope which we presume gave it the “expert” rating!

The trail passes by the smaller and in my opinion more beautiful beaches of Praia de Palmas which had just a handful of tiny guest houses and would have been a lovely place to spend a night, then continued to Prai de Mangues where the boats come in. We saw some gorgeous little monkeys in the trees, scared away by the Argentinian group with their flasks of maté and loud voices shouting “hay un mono!!”. Not any more there isn’t.

When we got to the actual Lopes Mendes beach it was anything but deserted – it had kiosks selling beer and food and lifeguard stations, and we seemed to have timed our arrival with a cruise ship. It may not have been the most beautiful beach in Brazil but Helen jumped some waves and we ate our cooled down toasted sandwiches after picking out the wilted lettuce, unable to buy a beer as we didn’t have enough cash (no ATMs on the island so maybe the annoying bus family had the right idea). In my opinion the hike itself is the highlight rather than the destination.

Like most people we got the boat back at 3.30 instead of hiking the return trail – which we almost missed as we were waiting on the wrong beach. The boat ride was really nice in itself and is the perfect way to see some of the island without spending money on an actual boat tour!

We had another slightly weird dinner with another waiter we weren’t sure actually worked there and five games of monopoly deal before getting our drinks, but it was one of my favourite days in Brazil so far.

“Deserted” beach

We finally had a lazy morning by the pool the next day before doing the short hike to some ruins of a jail that was used for quarantine. You could easily spend a good few days here hiking the various island trails – though we were yet to find a beach with enough sand to sunbathe, we did find one with a very annoying hippy couple playing terrible recorder.

Beach dog

On the way back to Sao Paolo, which would conclude Helen’s trip and mark the start of the next leg of my journey, we followed the backpacker trail via the little colonial town of Paraty. I had done zero research on this place so had no expectations but it’s well worth a stop with it’s preserved town centre and jungle backdrop. It also has a really interesting history, with the Portuguese arriving in the 16th century and it became a busy port town built on slave labour.

Much of the town gets submerged under the tide water – good thing we were wearing flipflops aside from when navigating the cobbled streets (Helen fell over). The streets used to be lower than the houses which gave it the name of the Venice of Brazil. Sadly the old roads were rebuilt by child slaves and the “good” stones replaced by cheaper uneven ones, at a higher level meaning the houses flooded. I can’t remember most of the history and have no internet access to look it up but I do remember that the three main churches were once totally segregated for whites, blacks and mixed race people and there was also no sewage system so the houses and churches closest to the sea got the raw deal.

Photo credit to Helen!

We were there for Good Friday meaning we got up again at midnight (one of Helen’s better ideas!) to see the ritual of a effigy of Jesus holding a huge palm, being carried through the streets followed by a large crowd holding lit torches. We ended up in the parade for quite a while before we could get home again.

And that was three weeks in Brazil, as we waited for a six hour bus to Sao Paolo – a bus that never turned up so we ended up sharing a rollercoaster of a taxi ride with an Argentinian family who were otherwise about to miss their flight…

Rio de Janeiro – Beaches, The Redeemer and Not Getting Robbed

After a short flight from the lovely airport in Salvador which had hammocks in place of hard plastic seats, we arrived in Rio de Janeiro. We had quite a lot of trepidation about this place after so many negative comments about safety which is a bit of a shame. In fact the first thing we saw at the Mango Tree Ipanema beach hostel was the sign on the door saying do not take anything to the beach, no cards, no phones, only minimum cash – and the guidebook didn’t help by warning of thieves sweeping the beach and robbing everyone.

Spot the hammock
Ipanema Beach

We headed straight to Ipanema Beach for a sunset beer and found we were the only people sitting on the sand – everyone else was on plastic chairs. In fact it was packed full of groups of people on chairs, spread out along the 2.6km beach which is helpfully marked by 12 postos (posts) – as well as being markers for directions, they help define the type of crowd that hang out in each area (Helen named ours the Hot Boys flag which we assumed was a gay area).

There is a noticeable police presence on the beaches, with the officers on segways and ready for the chase in their shorts and trainers but we didn’t see any trouble, only nice friendly people.

Not wanting to waste a Friday night in Rio but with zero atmosphere at the hostel (we even sent a message like losers in the hostel group chat which went ignored!) we asked at the desk where would be good for live music and safe for the two of us to go alone. The woman directed us to a place in Catete, half an hour away by metro and said it’s perfectly safe to walk home from the station after midnight… in Rio… I guess it’s all relative and probably no worse than Archway! It was surprisingly easy to navigate Rio’s equivalent of the tube, once someone had showed us how to actually tap in that is. It was less easy to find a particular bar without a map and when it’s hidden by crowds of people outside. Instead of a bar with live samba, what we had actually gone to was a more like a street party with vendors selling drinks and portaloos. The bar had opened it’s doors for a band that hadn’t started yet and the crowd was shoulder to shoulder busy. We had a drink and people watched for a bit, only managing to hear the music for a short time before we had to leave to get the last tube home. At least we tried – we didn’t end up in a favela and we seemed to be the only tourists there, plus it felt more comfortable at midnight in Rio than 5pm in Salvador.

Vegan Middle Eastern food in Rio

We only had two full days in Rio when you could easily fill a week, so the first thing we did was buy online tickets for the train up to Christ The Redeemer at 10.40 am the next day. We did this because the Lonely Planet and various websites said you cannot buy tickets at the gate. First fail – we went out for breakfast to a place we had found on Google Maps literally around the corner only to find it wasn’t there, and everywhere else was still closed (still not sure what Brazilians do in the mornings). Rushed back to the hostel after a dash for coffee and bananas and called an Uber. Fail number two – when I actually read the e-ticket for the train I found it said to arrive half hour early for “check in”, when we now had 15 mins to get there. Fail number three – we had discussed and decided that there was no need to print the e-tickets, so we set off in the Uber. Halfway there I realised that those same e-tickets were on our phones – the phones that we had left safely locked away in the hostel. I found this so funny I was actually crying, which Helen and the bemused taxi driver mistook for real tears. Cue us arriving at the station to a massive queue snaking around the side of the building and realising nobody actually abides by the half hour early rule nor do the trains actually run on a timetable – this is Brazilian time. When we eventually reached the front of the line and managed to communicate we had forgotten our tickets, I remembered I had actually had the sense to pack a copy of my passport – which the lovely staff used to look up our tickets and let us on the next train. Although it was slightly humiliating pulling out an A4 sized passport copy (thanks Dad for printing it out full size last time I went travelling!!!). It turned out you can actually buy tickets on the day and regardless you end up in the same neverending four different queues for the same train. Fail number four – try not to time it with the cruise ships 🤦🏻‍♀️

Mug shot

When we finally got up there about two hours later it was worth it – both for the views of the city and Sugar Loaf mountain, and the feeling of staring up at the imposing Christ against the clouds. It was also entertaining to see hundreds of people doing the arms out pose – if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em!

I couldn’t come to Rio without also going to Copacabana Beach even thought it’s not actually related to the song, and it was only a half hour or so walk around the coast. Copacabana was a bit more laid back than Ipanema with less chairs!

Copacabana

We also couldn’t waste a Saturday night in Rio but still hadn’t made any friends so we took the hostel’s advice again to see a live band with Forro dancing (traditional style of dance a little similar to salsa). Not wanting to arrive too early like the previous night, we got there late – too late in fact as the music had almost finished. But it didn’t matter – it was a really nice experience, not at all touristy and provided the chance to have street food (even a vegan version of Akara), craft beer for Helen and the strongest Capirinha yet served in a jam jar for me for a couple of quid. We blended in with the locals in colourful clothes and flipflops. What I love about Brazil is that you see all these ridiculously colourful clothes in the shops and then you see everyone actually wearing them – toucans, parrots, jaguars, flowers, bananas, the more the better.

Acaí bowl

Our second day (Sunday) was spent like locals with a laid back brunch (finally had the famed Açai) and browsing around a market (in search of the perfect Toucan Dress) before hiring rust buckets of bicycles and cycling around the lake.

Before the brakes on my bikes went funny

The plan was to get the Cable Car up Sugar Loaf mountain in the afternoon but it was really cloudy, so instead we grabbed an Uber to the museum to catch the last hour of opening. Great, I thought, we can walk around the old town as well and follow the self guided walk in the book. No, we can’t – as it says in the book the area is unsafe at weekends when it’s completely deserted. As our taxi drove through the area, I could see why.

No capibaras in sight unfortunately

Any ideas of rushing up Sugar Loaf on the last morning went out the window as there was packing and breakfast and shopping to be done – Havaianas for five pounds if you can resist the upselling to customise them with toucan and pineapple and banana pins (Helen could not). I would definitely come back to Rio in future as I’d like to see the centre, take the Santa Catarina tram and explore other neighbourhoods. But for us, for now, time to move on to the island called Isla Grande….

Haviana shopping

From Morro de São Paulo to Salvador – Sick Boats and Birthdays

After our lightening quick trip up the coast of Bahia we headed to the island of Morro de São Paulo, which translates as São Paolo Hill. The quickest way is by speedboat although apparently you should be prepared to get wet. We got in the boat and chose a nice seat at the back only be to shunted closer and closer to the front as more people got on and the driver motioned for us to move up. Helen was practically doing a Titanic by the time we set off – by which time the boat was loaded so full of luggage and multipacks of water and toilet paper that it was leaning to the left and the engine wouldn’t start. A helpful passenger helped drop the anchor whilst the driver hotwired the engine and moved all the bags to the front to allow it to get going. We never picked up enough speed to get wet but it was easy to identify the few tourists on board by the nervous faces.

Do I look nervous?

We made it across without breaking down, and were helped off the boat by the official Morro luggage men who carted my bag up the hill in a wheelbarrow… next time bring the backpack 🤦🏻‍♀️

Spot my bag in a wheelbarrow

We dropped our bags at the Pousada Aquarela, had a beer at their cute jungly bar and went for a wander around Morro, finding a nice cafe that we returned to the next morning to try the Capirinha Coffees. I’m not sure fresh lime and the local liquor really goes with expresso but I had to try it.

No ordinary coffee

The only wildlife we saw on Morro was in our room – on returning after exploding our bags over the beds, we noticed those same beds were crawling with tiny tiny ant like creatures. Each time I wiped what looked like eggs off one corner of the sheet they would reappear. At least I had my mosquito net – although I was wary of my makeshift attachment method now (attaching plastic hooks to the wall with those “no damage” sticky labels – why does nowhere have hooks for nets?!) after I pulled off a chunk of purple paint from the last wall. I was slightly nervous as the owner went into the room to inspect it just as our taxi pulled up and we got away.

Walking / wading around the bay

With only one full day on the island, we set off in the morning fuelled by the Capirinha Coffee for a walk to the lighthouse via beaches named “one” and “two”. This was a Helen Special walk as we had to wade through the sea for some of it. There was a man making elaborate and very strong looking drinks served in the cacao fruit but he took so long to make them I gave up waiting.

Drink?

The beach was lovely and we hired a couple of sunbeds for the afternoon, although we weren’t altogether sure it was necessary to pay because nobody else seemed to. At least we got beer and chips brought out on demand. The beach was also very entertaining with the usual Footvolley games to watch and a group who started performing dance routines – including a man with bright pink hot pants and maybe the best hair I’ve ever seen. I especially liked it when everyone around applauded them at the end.

With the Pousada bar annoyingly closed for a private party, we ended up having a nice meal and bottle of wine and time for various holiday admin at a restaurant in town – we have generally been booking accommodation and buses a few days in advance which seems fine. We ran into The Dutch from The Pantanal (or rather one of them sneaked up on in the restaurant and scared the life out of us) and it was nice to hear what they had been up to.

The next day was My Birthday – I didn’t mind it being a bit of a travel day to Salvador as the journey was a “fun boat ride” to the mainland. After an early morning swim where I was the only person on the tiny beach just five minutes walk away, and my favourite breakfast of fried banana (not the Tapioca pancakes which are extremely glutinous and hard to eat with a filling of just tomato!), we made it down the hill without needing to hire a wheelbarrow and on to the Catamaran. The guidebook had mentioned the 2.5 hour crossing could be rough and it did suggest taking medication even if you don’t normally suffer from sea sickness but of course we ignored that. We got on and found a table, thinking we might play cards, write journals, read books or eat snacks. Then we noticed the Vomit Bin and the man coming around handing out clear plastic sick bags. I saw them take away someone’s black bag and replace it with clear ones – why?!

Not what you want to see on a boat

If you’ve ever been on one of the pirate ship rides at a theme park – that would give you an idea of the next two and a half hours, combined with side to side motion. We put out books away just as the first people started being sick into their bags – which did I mention were clear plastic? 🤢 I’m still trying to block out the memory of one man filling the bag up to the brim. The poor helper men with the blue T-shirts surely have one of the worst jobs in the world, going around helping people stagger out to the back of the boat mid vomit where presumably it was less rough. I would have gone outside too but a) I couldn’t stand up with the motion of the boat and b) all the sick people were out there. Instead I just sat there with headphones on to block out the noise (note to self – memories of Theme Hospital) and staring out the window, feeling extremely grateful that I don’t get sea sick! Poor Helen tried to sleep but was getting soaked the whole time as the window was open behind her.

Back on dry land

We arrived in Salvador to yet more rain so took a taxi to our hostel up the hill. The city is split over two levels with an elevator connecting them for about 10p, but cars have to take the hairpin type bends. Hostel Galeria 13 was a very sociable place with a daily happy hour with up to 8 free Capirinhas as long as you show your empty glass (I managed two – apparently it used to be unlimited but some Dutch guys ruined it for everyone) and a blackboard of local evenings activities. Run by a man originally from Norfolk of all places so we had a chat about Alan Partridge. As soon as we arrived the staff showed us a map and told us to make sure we stay within the orange areas as “things can happen” if you stray outside. The other advice was don’t let people paint you – there are people going around covered in white paint who will try to paint you with designs then ask for a lot of money apparently.

Venice influence in Salvador
Stay in the orange!

Unfortunately they didn’t have a copy of the maps to give us so we had to try to remember it. I was happy to find a restaurant around the corner that did a vegan version of the local specialty Moqueca (bananas and vegetables in a coconut sauce served in a sizzling hot pan, accompanied by a type of stew and the Dust). A ridiculous amount of food arrived for two people and the lovely waiter explained each item in detail before taking a photo on his phone and sending to me via WhatsApp. It was the perfect birthday meal!

We followed the blackboard to some authentic live samba music off the main square which was completely free, with strong Caipiroska drinks costing about £1.50. We enjoyed watching some middle aged women dancing but it was pretty quiet and the square was deserted so we headed back and met our old friend from the Pantanal, Tom, who arrived at our hostel after about 72 hours on back to back buses surviving on bananas. We gave him our leftovers from dinner and were amazed to hear that after we had all left the Pantanal, Bill had called Tom to say that “The Girls didn’t pay their bar bill”. Tom told Bill that he believed we had paid but that it wasn’t really anything to do with him (we had, with the exception of maybe two beers that they didn’t ask us for) to which Bill said “but you are representing The Girls!” – I guess we should be glad he didn’t call us directly!

Me and my Representative

The next day we all went on a free walking tour and I learned I shared my birthday with Salvador, the capital city of Bahia, which is 474 years old. The city looked much nicer in the sunshine, all colourful buildings and I got my coconut water in the street for about 20p. Salvador has a much more Carribean feel to it and felt less scary in the daylight with Representative Tom as bodyguard. We had tropical fruit ice creams and sorbets (there is a flavour called Romeo and Juliet whatever that is) in the square after taking the elevator down, buying some tat at a market (Tom left us to it) and taking a look inside a rather gaudy church. See slightly scary looking cherub figures and bizarre art with Latin captions translated into English such as the below which I don’t agree with.

In the evening after making some more friends at happy hour we all went out to a live drumming event, as this is something local to Salvador and which we were all keen to see. It started off great with three men playing different kinds of drums. Then a man who introduced himself as The Professor (see the bright Afro below) came on and continued with a larger band. And then it got weird, as what we assumed were students of The Professor got up in turn and embarked on lengthy recitals – it was as if we were watching a music graduation. I’m sure musically they were very talented but there is only so long you can sit on stone steps watching someone play experimental drums to a backing track when everyone else seems to be part of the crowd. Eventually I caught the eye of fellow traveller Clint who was also desperate to leave and we made our escape to a local restaurant for a late night meal.

There was going to be lots of birthday Salvador celebrations that weekend and you could definitely spend a few days here – but we had to move on as we had booked our flights down to Rio….