Travel – Page 2 – Maz On The Road

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

April 24, 2023November 19, 2024Posted in South America, Travel, UruguayTagged backpacking, cabo Polonia, Montevideo, solo travel, South America, Travel, travel blog, UruguayLeave a comment

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?).

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.

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.

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).

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).

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

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

April 24, 2023November 19, 2024Posted in Brazil, South America, TravelTagged backpacking, beach, Brazil, Florianopolis, Floripa, solo travelLeave a comment

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

April 20, 2023April 20, 2023Posted in TravelTagged backpacking, Brazil, Ilha grande, Paraty, solo travel, South America, travel blogLeave a comment

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

April 13, 2023April 13, 2023Posted in Travel2 Comments

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.

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.

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 🤦🏻‍♀️

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!

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.

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.

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….

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

April 5, 2023April 10, 2023Posted in TravelLeave a comment

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.

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 🤦🏻‍♀️

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.

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.

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.

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?!

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.

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.

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!

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….

Bahia Coast – Buses, Rain and Stuffing a Banana

April 5, 2023Posted in Travel1 Comment

Days 5-8, Campo Grande, Porto Seguro, Arrail d’Adjuda, Ilhéus, Itacare

The transport from the Pantanal turned up after all, with a minibus picking us up from the Jungle Lodge and dropping us off at the business hotel we had booked back in Campo Grande – there wasn’t a lot of choice and there isn’t much to do there. Bill hadn’t done us in yet, although Tom was slightly concerned that Bill had casually mentioned the name of his next hotel when he hadn’t actually told him. There wasn’t a lot of food choice either so not wanting to go far from the hotel in the dark, we found a Chinese around the corner and walked the couple of blocks having left our phones and valuables in the hotel safe.

We would have been sitting at the table all night if the nice Brazilian couple at the next table hadn’t told us you have to press a buzzer, which lights up your table number on a board, for the staff to come over. With no English available and our Spanish of no help, I accidentally ordered the biggest portion of vegetable tempura possible which I stress ate without noticing as the couple asked how we got here and expressed horror that we were planning on walking back. It’s very dangerous, they said – better take an Uber. You need a phone to order a Uber, so we asked the restaurant staff if they could get us a taxi – instead one of the male staff insisted on walking us back personally due to the drug turf war in that area. After letting Tom dealing with Bill for us and now a male escort home, we felt like bad feminists.

The next morning we started our trip up the east coast of Bahia with anther ridiculously early 5am start – a flight to Porto Seguro, then a bus and boat to Arrail d’Adjuda. The plan was to spend the next few days working our way up to Salvador. There are no direct flights so we had to fly via Sao Paolo – cue parallel universe moment where we disembarked, bought a snack from a cafe then followed the transfer signs through security and found our gate, only to end up back at the same cafe with the gate literally next to it. Top tip – you don’t actually need to go through security again when changing!

The distances are huge and the bus journeys long so we broke it up with stops in Ilhéus and Itacare.

Since our previous trips staying in Junkyards and Eco Lodges we have moved up to Art Hotels, ie guesthouses with random art such as monkey mosaics and mermaids by the pool. We flew into the tiny airport at Porto Seguro and got a taxi south to Arrail d’Adjuda (or AA as we called it) which included the fun car ferry, as it looked like a nicer place to stay rather than in Porto Seguro itself.

We went straight to the beach only to find the tide so far in that the waves were lapping around the plastic tables outside the beach bars (which were being packed away around us), and the only other people out were a couple of absolutely hammered middle aged women in bikinis who lurched towards us shouting “aye aye aye aye”. We decided to have a beer anyway before walking back up the hill to our Pousada, past the crazy women staggering up the same way.

It’s safe to go out at night here – what a novelty to wander around in shorts without mosquito head nets! We had dinner in a place that did craft beer for Helen and veggie burgers for me, and happily played Monopoly Deal without fear of being mugged for the pack of cards. AA has lots and lots of little shops and restaurants/bars around a square – it must be popular with Brazilian holidaymakers as we didn’t see many tourists. I was happy to find a shop that sold everything with skull prints although the woman was weirdly persistent in trying to get me to try on a long skull dress that I didn’t want, and we probably looked like lesbians again with me trying on outfits and Helen paying (birthday gift!).

We finally had a nice relaxing morning at the pool and made the most of the midday checkout. At least made the Brazilian guests laugh at our pronunciation of our next destination Ilhéus (nothing like it’s meant to be pronounced).

With everything still closed at midday the next morning and not wanting to miss our bus north to Ilhéus, we arrive at the bus station in Porto Seguro 2.5 hours early. But their handy luggage storage meant we could stash our stuff and go for a wander around the place where the Portuguese first landed.

We arrived in Ilhéus after around 6 hours on the bus. We didn’t plan on staying here originally as the Lonely Planet described the town as “rough around the edges” but I actually quite liked it. It’s home to chocolate production – we didn’t have time to visit a factory but we did have time to buy a £5 bar each from the hotel. We also enjoyed an authentic Saturday night at a local restaurant/ bar just around the corner with a pizza, beer and live music inside altho I didn’t quite fit in with the overdressed local women, still in my hiking shoes.

When it rains here it really rains – not wanting to miss out I followed Helen on a brisk walk around Ilhéus in the morning, actually taking my phone for some photo opportunities. This was probably not the best idea as the place was completely deserted on Sunday morning (what does everyone actually DO in the morning in Brazil?!) and the downpour of tropical rain soaked us to the skin. We passed a man taking a shower under a drain pipe. The old run down buildings did have a certain charm to them so I would say Ilhéus is worth a visit but bring a poncho!

Luckily our taxi driver from the night before had offered a decent price to come and pick us up and drive us the hour or so to the next stop, Itacaré (we had also been saying it wrong) so we could take all our wet clothes in a carrier bag. He drove like a getaway driver like most taxi drivers do, over the rollercoaster hills, but at least he didn’t overtake four cars on a blind bend like the ambulance did or spend the journey sending videos of other cars to his mates on WhatsApp like another driver had.

Itacaré is somewhere you could spend a couple of days, with its beaches and Bob Marley tunes coming from the cafes and bars and we met a few people who were spending a couple of weeks on the Bahia coast as their main holiday. We had a lovely vegan lunch on the beach and stroll around the shops, and saw our first game of Footvolley – super fit guys (and the occasional girl) playing what looks like volleyball but without using hands, instead kicking, heading and chesting it over the net. I loved the colourful buildings and relaxed vibe.

Ironically our hotel was called Ray of Sunshine as we arrived in the rain, and it had quite possibly the world’s smallest swimming pool out by the road. My favourite part of Itacaré was the banana themed beach evening meal – it turns out you can stuff a banana!! Never had a meal looked so like the photo in the menu and we could have bananas for main course (brocolli would not usually be my first choice to stuff a banana with) and dessert. Helen’s came with a side that she described as Dust which we later found out was Farofa (toasted or fried cassava) which you’re actually meant to sprinkle over your food rather than eat a spoonful.

After one night it was back on the bus again to Valenca. We nearly missed the bus due to confusion over having to queue to convert our e-tickets to paper ones, but I managed to use Spanish to get the bus driver to wait a few more minutes. And that concludes our the whistle-stop tour up the coast – next stop island of Morro de Sao Paolo via speedboat…

The Pantanal – Mosquito Spotting, Bill, and The Electrocution of Tom

April 1, 2023April 1, 2023Posted in Travel2 Comments

When booking the nature part of our trip, after doing a bit of research we went through a tour guide that the Lonely Planet guide book described as “the assertive pick of the budget operators” who we shall call Bill* and came across a review** where he apparently threatened to do someone in, but there were many more good reviews than bad and he had sent photos of himself with happy tourists over WhatsApp so we gave him the benefit of the doubt. We signed up for a four day / three night package inclusive of nine activities. The main draw is jaguar spotting but we knew it was the wrong time of year for that.

After a ridiculously early flight from Sao Paolo, we arrived in Campo Grande at 7.00 in the morning, the main gateway to the largest wetlands in the world – The Pantanal. We were met by a smiley, friendly Bill who took us to a local hotel for a complimentary breakfast along with fellow traveller Tom, also from the UK. As we got in the car, Bill asked “do you want the good news or the bad news?”. The bad news we said – that would be the “aggressive” mosquitoes who bite night and day, and that the fact that despite having booked three nights at the Pantanal Jungle Lodge, a large group of Brazilians were coming so it would be better if we stayed in a different place just a few minutes boat ride away for the last night which would really be an upgrade and anyway the Brazilians would be partying all night and keeping us awake. There wasn’t really any choice in the matter so set off on the five hour van ride after taking a selfie with Bill, then realised we never actually found out what the good news was.

I don’t think we actually left Campo Grande for the first hour as we turned around so many times it felt like a game of pin the tail on the donkey. After waiting at various junctions for local passengers or supplies, we got on the road. Halfway through the driver dropped and motioned us out to see caimans. This was no ordinary photo opportunity – three of four caimans emerged from the river on to the ground a few feet away whilst the driver threw them chunks of meat and treated them like cute little pets. When he beckoned me over to touch one of them I couldn’t resist (throwback to touching a Komodo Dragon) – it felt like plastic. Caimans are apparently actually quite friendly unlike full blown alligators.

We eventually transferred to a bumpy jeep for the last part of the ride and arrived at the jaguar themed Pantanal Jungle Lodge, straight into one of our 9 organised activities, a sunset boat trip on the river. Our official guide’s services weren’t really required as our fellow guests included Carlos the Costa Rican animal and bird expert tour guide and all round wildlife enthusiast and family.

We were glad to have our binoculars to get a closer look at so many colourful birds and some howler monkeys. We saw Caracara (my favourite), Roadside hawk (if in doubt say it’s one of these), Tiger herons and more types of parakeet that you’ll find on Hampstead Heath.

After a buffet dinner and chat with other guests it was an early night ready for the next days activities starting at 7.30am – morning jeep safari, “ecological walk” followed by afternoon kayaking and a nighttime caiman spotting. The jeep safari was less of a safari and more of an incredibly bumpy ride down a road, stopping every two minutes as Carlos spotted a bird nobody else could see, but we got to wear our comedy head nets that friends had leant Helen (thanks Stickie!!) which deterred the hoards of mossies. As Carlos’s wife said “at first I thought they were ridiculous but now I’m jealous”.

I quickly realised two things; it is true that mosquitoes like black (my dark trousers were covered in giant mossies) and they do bite through clothes (Helen’s top tip – put on Deet like body lotion and don’t forget your bum).

The ecological walk was nicknamed “Mosquito Spotting” as it seemed like a case of let’s take the tourists through for a walk through the woodland and not actually show them any wildlife. By now I’d given up on keeping the mosquitoes off my legs but my top half didn’t get a single bite – thank you M&S white linen blouse (now permanently stained yellow). We were sweaty messes wearing the same clothes for three days whilst fellow guest and native Brazilian Julia managed to look stunning the entire time with her brightly coloured linen outfits, naturally curly hair and mascara that stayed on. I literally watched the mosquitoes hovering around her beautiful outfit then flying away in the opposite direction.

We never got time to play pool or sit at the bar on the jaguar themed stools as we were either rushing off to an activity or too tired and it was never clear what activity was coming next but at least our guide Zinho spoke English. Kayaking was more fun – Zinho led us downstream so the current took us without the need to paddle. “Relax and enjoy the scenery” he said (the exact opposite of my Norway fjord kayaking experience last year which I still need to write about).

Night time caiman spotting was not nearly as much fun when you can’t touch them but we saw the southern cross in a beautiful night sky, slightly it was spoiled by the constant torches scanning for birds – no Carlos I cannot see “that bird that looks like a stick in that skinny tree to the left of that other tree”.

Day three was horse riding and introduction to The Dutch, four hilarious guys from Holland who had never ridden before but had their matching wide brimmed hats and were cantering all over the place. Instead of riding hats the lodge gave us plastic crash helmet and hair nets to keep the nits out which didn’t look quite as cool.

We had hoped to avoid moving hotels but indeed all of the European guests were being booted out to the “upgrade” hotel across the river. When I tried asking the hotel manager if we really needed to move, he just put a much less friendly Bill on the phone.

As we opened the door to our new home it was apparent it was certainly not an upgrade. The room was tiny, there were piles of dead flies in the corners and the bathroom was filthy – and we are by no means luxury travellers with high expectations. I had just got out of the cold shower as Helen ran in to check I was OK as Tom had just been electrocuted in his shower. It was bad timing that I had accidentally rubbed Deet on my lips, and was trying to cool them down by blowing air out in probably quite a strange way, which Helen interpreted as me also having been electrocuted.

This was enough for the ever patient Tom, who works in tourism and is way more polite that I could ever be, to complain. I don’t think I’ll ever forget walking into the restaurant area and hearing Tom on the phone to an increasingly irate Bill, saying calming “Yes Bill, I understand we have to move as the big Brazilian group are coming, yes I understand they would be very noisy, but I have just been electrocuted therefore I would like to move rooms.” Bill’s response to this was to blame us and threaten Tom with “The Girls are being difficult but I don’t want to have a problem with you Tom.” We all agreed Bill was now very likely to do us in, as per the original Trip Advisor review** but we still needed him for the transport back to Campo Grande.

After moving to new rooms that were semi cleaned and supposedly had hot showers that we were too scared to use anyway, the mood improved with the “floatation” activity which entailed being driven upstream and gently floating back on inflatable noodles. There were apparently no piranha despite the piranha fishing activity, and the caimans are friendly. Helen and I watched this activity from the boat as we took our cue from the native Brazilian who said she was not getting in that water. It was actually great fun watching the others scream as various things touched them under the murky water.

After some beers by the pool it was time for the outcasts to return to the other side for dinner, as with the Big Brazilian Group arriving we were also banned from meals at the lodge. But not before witnessing the arrival of the Big Brazilian Group – we watched as a bus load of retirees arrived with their wheeled luggage, clutching their pillows. Not quite the party group we were expecting but with a group of us we could see the funny side.

Dinner was also very entertaining – thank God for The Dutch. We had noticed a German couple who ate meals together but otherwise acted like they didn’t know each other and we had been pondering (or maybe gossiping) about whether or not they were a couple. The Dutch launched into an interrogation on how they met (only a few weeks ago when she was “facilitating a Tantra ceremony” and “he hasn’t graduated yet”), how well they knew each other (she said you need need to communicate in order to know someone) and eventually asking “but are you a couple??!” (as of this morning no).

The final morning only had one activity, “artisanal piranha fishing” which I obviously was not joining, but I watched the others sit in the blazing sun covered in mossies for half an hour before giving up – apparently nobody has ever caught anything as it’s a rubbish fishing spot.

We entertained ourselves finding an old review from 18 years ago calling Bill a liar and even more amusing overly positive reviews from someone posting as Fiona who was clearly actually Bill and subsequently kicked off the forum. There was just time for a late morning pool party before Bill came through on our transport out of there. Next blog coming soon on our journey up the coast, if Bill hasn’t tracked me down and done me in by then.

*names have been changed!

São Paulo

March 26, 2023March 28, 2023Posted in Travel1 Comment

Day 1 – São Paulo, Pousada Zilah

I’m on the road again and back in South America after around 12 years. Kick starting a two month trip in Brazil with none other than Original Travel Companion Helen, as is tradition. Helen is in the middle of her own two month journey through Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil and we have met in São Paolo to begin a three week trip around this huge country.

We splashed out on our first guesthouse (Pousada) to stay in a nice part of the city as we only had one day here. I arrived off of a night flight at 7am at the beautiful Pousada Zilah in the Higienópolis area. I sat next to a Brazilian influencer woman who in between taking selfie videos and doing her makeup told me she is from São Paolo and has never been to Rio as it’s so dangerous, and reiterated the Lonely Planet warnings that it’s not safe to walk even a couple of blocks at night. I cheated and took a taxi from the airport and the driver saw me safely into the Pousada where I was greeted by the lovely owner with a very strong coffee, just in time to meet Helen (who had arrived the night before on an overnight bus from Iguazu Falls) for breakfast.

Our Pousada was located close to the upmarket shopping street Avenida Paulista, closed to vehicles on a Sunday with a market going on. I needed a rest after not sleeping on the plane so Helen decided to go on a free walking tour. Sounds easy enough – until you consider the warnings of not walking through any dodgy areas, not trusting a taxi and the fact you’re better off leaving your phone in the safe – walking to the start of the walking tour proved to be a challenge in it’s own right. Eventually Helen set off having memorised the map and taking the guide book as a backup, and we agreed to meet back at the Pousada at 14.00. After a nap I decided to venture out for food – not taking a phone only proved I have no sense of direction or time. Having failed to find any of the vegan cafes I thought I’d memorised, I ended up in a shopping mall then just made it back in time to find Helen waiting for me. Really should get a watch.

In the afternoon we went on another walking tour that conveniently started just around the corner – the few photos I have are from Helen’s boyfriend’s camera which we decided it was better to have stolen than either of our phones on the first day. Tip for travel in future is to take an old phone or camera for photography purposes.

For the first part of the tour we had two guides, the bigger of the two acting more like a bouncer seeing off unsavoury types hovering around us group of tourists. The official Sao Paolo Free Walking Tour was great and I always take this type of tour where possible – it’s tip based rather than totally free and a brilliant way to get to grips with a city. Our guide Rafa was particularly good and we learned lots of facts about São Paolo, with a population of 12.3 million it makes up 5% of people in Brazil (although Rafa said 10%!) He also said this city has the largest population of Japanese outside of Japan and Italians outside of Italy which I have not fact checked.

We also learned that children go to school either in the morning or the afternoon, so that the schools can double the number of students resulting in many adults going to back to school in the evenings after work.

Along the tour we saw five mansions, one of which was now a McDonald’s and one a Santander bank. Most had it’s own story of a rich family who wanted to sell them but were prevented by the local authority designating them as of historic interest. Some had been abandoned or blown up so the government couldn’t get their hands on it. There were also some creepy looking abandoned hospitals. There is apparently now a ban on giant billboards including McDonalds. The guide pointed out lots of museums and cultural centres we would have liked to have visited if we were staying longer (although they close on a Monday!).

Japanese food here comes highly recommended – unfortunately without our phones for Google maps we could not take advantage of any of Rafa’s restaurant recommendations nor take an Uber to get there. But this is how we used to travel 15 years ago and for now it feels like a bit of a novelty and nobody can steal what you don’t have?! We would still prefer not to be held up at gunpoint so after the tour we aimed to find a place for a quick dinner close to the Pousada. Unfortunately everything is shut on a Sunday evening and the restaurants in the guidebook had quite possibly closed down entirely, so we ended up in a stupidly expensive Italian restaurant that was full possibly as it was the only open place around. It was also difficult to order without a phone to scan the barcode for the online menu 🤦🏻‍♀️ We quickly learned English is not widely spoken here and Spanish is not similar to Portuguese nor generally understood. When I tried to ask what an item on the menu was, the waiter brought out a plate with a single piece of plain pasta on to show me, as if I was a pasta connoisseur who wanted to try it like you might try an expensive bottle of wine. They also insisted on serving us each time we wanted to take a bit more and I realised after eating half a bowl of what I thought was a chilli sauce that it was probably fish🤢

It was worth the £80 a night for the jungle bathroom and large private rooftop balcony where we enjoyed cheap supermarket beers after an accidental walk home in the dark. No all night partying for us as we had a ridiculously early start at 3am the next day to start the “animals” part of the trip with a flight to the largest wetlands in the world, The Pantanal ….

Prince Charles, The Bears and “It’s Not OK!!” (Romania)

October 1, 2021November 19, 2024Posted in Europe, Romania, Travel1 Comment

When I met Original Travel Companion (OTC) Helen at Bucharest airport I was fairly surprised that we had got this far, with Helen making her first trip abroad since we went to Greece almost exactly one year ago, and me half expecting to get stopped after listing all of my previous destinations on the passenger locator form and being sent down the ‘Orange’ Covid line instead of ‘Green’ when I got off the plane. But we made it and the first stop of our week in Romania was it’s capital, Bucharest, where our funky hotel room included a welcome glass of fizz but no windows and a thumping bass line from the next door clubs that kept us up all night (Marianne’s snoring didn’t help either – OTC Helen).

There is a certain theme to Bucharest night life

We set off for breakfast on Saturday morning and soon heard the three words that would become the theme of our trip – “its not OK!!“. In order to enter a restaurant in Romania, even outside, you need a Covid ‘green pass’, proof of vaccination. Thanks to Brexit (again), our NHS barcodes failed to register, with an ‘signature invalid’ error flashing up on the screen when the surly waiter scanned our phones. Despite it showing our names and vaccination dates, apparently “it’s not OK!”. But after some convincing, he let us sit outside.

Whilst Bucharest old town is pumping at night, it’s a ghost town in the morning. This made for some good sightseeing as we made our way on foot up to Herastrau Lake, wondering where everyone was on Saturday afternoon. We found out where they all were when we had the naive idea that we could have lunch in a lakeside restaurant. After at least three attempts to get into any type of restaurant to eat anything, by now it was clear that our vaccine passport was most definitely “not OK!!” as we were turned away by the manager of an empty Steakhouse. “You’re not OK” said Helen under her breath, as we settled for a coffee and two cookies at the only place that would let our dirty selves through the door, wondering how we would eat for the next week.

Bikers at the Parliament, second largest administration building in the world

Time for some history and a visit to the former home of Nicolae Ceaușescu, communist leader of Romania from 1974 to 1989. We didn’t book in advance for the mandatory guided tour so ended up paying double by booking tickets with ‘GetYourGuide’ where despite the instructions clearly saying a guide would meet us outside, holding a sign, there was nobody in sight. We eventually found a cross looking man hanging around inside with a pair of tickets who told us “I’ve been calling you but your phone is dead!!“. So far Romanians were not proving the friendliest of people.

Protective shoes are required inside the mansion

We both remembered filling shoeboxes for Romanian orphanages as kids, making the decadence of this house even more obscene. The teenage kids had their own lavish apartments, each with bathrooms big enough to house the entire family. The house is stuffed full of gifts from the world leaders, including a chess board presented by the President of Syria, and some crockery from our own Queen Elizabeth. The decor is garish at best.

Helen did some Wikipedia research as the woman who showed us around seemed fairly sympathetic to the Ceaușescu family. In the 1960s the state taxed the childless and encouraged women to give birth to at least 5 children, banning abortion and contraception in an effort to increase the population. As a result over 150,000 children were placed in state orphanages, whose deterioration coincided with the fall in living standards due to Ceaușescu’s obsession with paying off national debt at all costs. Many of the children were not actually orphans, but had parents who could not afford to keep them and who one day intended to get them back. By the time Ceaușescu and his wife were convicted of “economic sabotage and genocide” and immediately executed by firing squad in 1989, over 20,000 children had died in the orphanages with countless cases of neglect and cruelty particularly amongst the disabled.

Back in the Old Town and in the mood for something lighter, we successfully infiltrated the Sky Bar for some games and even found a craft beer pub where a nice man with a beard decided it was OK to give us a table outside and we felt less like outcasts (Marianne is very tolerant of my craft beer habit – OTC Helen).

If you Google ‘is it worth visiting Bucharest?’ the first thing that comes up is ‘don’t bother’ but I always think it’s good to see the capital city of the country you’re in. Maybe excluding Podgerica in Montenegro. One day is definitely enough, so we took the 2.5 hour train north to Brasov, paying just €4 extra for first class seats and an attendant offering ready made cups of coffee.

Brasov is at the foot of the Carpathian mountains and has a distinctintly different feel to Bucharest. We didn’t see any Sexy Ladies clubs and our accommodation was a quirky little boutique hotel called Vila Katharina where the woman who seemed to be running the place was dressed in what we assume was traditional style, and poured us a shot of Palinka (local fruit brandy) on arrival. Our bathroom rivalled Ceaușescu’s, with it’s lavish rug and free standing bathtub with entirely more tasteful gold taps. (Confit of duck with a glass of prosecco for breakfast? Why not?! – OTC Helen)

I liked Brasov apart from the real life Mickey Mouse who was hanging around the centre (no idea why). It was also an opportunity to finally see a Brown Bear in the wild. Visiting a bear hide is something we considered the ethics of before signing up to a slightly more expensive and smaller group trip that would take us further up into the mountains. Romania has Europe’s biggest brown bear population (apparently home to over 60% of them) with around 6,000 living in the Carpathians. Sadly until the EU introduced welfare laws, it was common to see dancing bears on street corners and performing in circuses – many of these bears are now in sanctuaries and cannot be released. The problem now is that the wild bear population is not all that far from the more rural villages, and bears do sometimes come into contact with humans when looking for food.

This bear is approximately 14 years old, over 2 metres tall and 300 kg

I decided to visit a bear hide, viewing them safely behind a mirrored window, as I felt that generating income for people in these areas is overall a good thing and encourages the protection rather than hunting of bears. However, I was not completely comfortable with the fact that corn is provided at the hides, allegedly to feed the deer population, which a few of the local bears then come to eat. Our guide, who was a total bear enthusiastic, strongly believed this also discourages the bears from looking for food in the villages, although this likely means they can never stop feeding at the hide.

Back in Brasov and tired out, we couldn’t face the rigmarole of politely asking for a table for two, showing our vaccine passes, pretending to be surprised when it inevitably throws an error and hearing ‘its not OK!!’ yet again so we tried the traditional Chimney Cake from a street stand instead. My savoury version with avocado was far better than the ‘veggie burger’ I had the day before where the main ingredient of the veggie burger was missing, the actual veggie burger.

Helen was very excited for her Chimney Cake

Aside from bears, people come to Romania to see the castles. Unfortunately most things are shut on Monday as I should know by now, so we could not visit Peles castle, or even go up Brasov’s cable car. We could, however, make a trip to Bran Castle after midday. This is where travelling in a pair is great as we could share the cost of a taxi and pay the driver to wait for us (The taxi driver appeared to be watching a DJ set as he drove though… – OTC Helen).

Bran Castle is commonly referred to as Dracula’s Castle, only because it fits the description of the home of Bram Stoker’s fictional Transylvanian Count – a castle perched high up on rock. We really enjoyed exploring the inside of the castle and learning about Queen Marie to whom the castle was gifted in 1920, once described as “the only man in Romania” due to her ballsy approach.

Helen and I like to encorporate the more unusual styles of accommodation into our travels – we did stay in Junkyard in Hawaii after all. So when she mentioned a friend of hers had stayed close to a house belonging to HRH Prince Charles, I knew we had to go. It turns out Prince Charles owns a few properties in Translyvania, including Count Kalnoky’s estate in the Zalán Valley, due to his family links with the area. This is also a guesthouse with proceeds going into community projects via The Princes Trust, offering a rural experience with an all inclusive package of meals served in the dining room, daily guided activities and “discrete staff”.

Our little cottage was very picturesque, the only noise being distant cowbells and red squirrels chomping on nuts up in the tree outside our door. We were again greeted with a glass of Palinka by a housekeeper otherwise known as ‘The Cook Lady’ and a large cartoon character of a man with missing front teeth otherwise known as ‘Mr Circular Saw’, neither of whom spoke more than a few words of English. Mr Circular Saw gained his name as soon after arriving I realised I had locked the key to my bag inside my bag and could no longer open the padlock, which he cheerfully sawed through with no trouble (Wish I’d filmed this but I was slightly terrified as sparks flew… Of all the places for this to happen, this was the most fortuitous – we wouldn’t have found a Mr Circular Saw in Bucharest! Also, I can’t believe Marianne hadn’t made this error sooner… OTC Helen).

Only the squirrels for company

We were in agreement that “discrete staff catering to your needs” was a definite oversell as they didn’t even make the bed. This may have been because we were the only guests? Lack of English was also a issue when the guide for our daily activity waited in a different place at a different time for a different activity, and Mr Circular Saw, who was anything but discrete, would come booming in at mealtimes to ask ‘OK?? PROBLEM?!’ to which we would shout back ‘OK!! NO PROBLEM!!”. I think he was quite disappointed there were no more padlocks to saw off, and The Cook Lady would probably have liked to have gone home early instead of hanging around to cook our dinner.

Now looking to be in his 60s, our Hungarian Super Guide was an ex-competitive mountain climber, a mountain rescue and real life Bear Grylls who has travelled the world leading expeditions. HRH must be paying him over the odds to be taking two British tourists on a sedate walk through the forest in the pouring rain where the only wildlife we saw were three brightly coloured salamanders. He didn’t even need to use the chilli spray he carries everywhere in case of Romanian sheep dog attacks (Helen is still scared of dogs after her Sri Lankan chase). I have never met anyone who knows as much about everything as the Hungarian Super Guide, with his multiple degrees, who explained that Translyvania used to be part of Hungary.

Mushrooms are everywhere and formed the vegan option at every meal.

We spent a lazy, rainy afternoon playing games and drinking wine by the fire and enjoying having the farmhouse to our ourselves. Until it got dark and The Cook Lady went home and we realised that a) as the only guests we were now probably completely alone on what could easily be the setting for a horror movie and b) we could not get any more wine as she had locked the kitchen door.

Our activities included a Horse and Cart ride driven by our favourite Mr Circular Saw, who is also known as the Horse Whisperer. We spent a fun two hours trying not to fall out of the cart as he whistled and made various strange noises, including shouting ‘OH MY GOD!!!’. As I’m writing this on the plane home, Helen has just raised the question as to whether or not he even worked at the estate.

The final leg of our Romania tour was meant to be the beach, until the weather had other ideas. We stayed in a beautiful Airbnb apartment in the Black Sea resort of Mamaia, sandwiched between the lake and the sea. Our Superhost picked us up for free from the train station after a five hour journey, and insisted on waiting while we popped into a supermarket as apparently all of the restaurants were closed. As we left all of our stuff in his car I realised either he was about to rob us blind or he was the nicest Romanian we had met so far.

He was just a nice guy and he was also correct in that all of the restaurants were indeed shut aside from one biker hangout which looked like a cool place to play some games. When we heard those three little words ‘It’s not OK!‘ from the manager I was not about to accept that we would have nowhere to eat for the next three days – eventually she gave in and seated us in the far corner so we could not spread our germs to anyone else in the empty restaurant.

Quite different to the Agean Sea

Whilst it didn’t offer sunbathing, Constanta did provide the opportunity for one more New Activity – Uber Scooters! We saw them lying around and decided to ride them down to Constanta Old Town. I thought it was a bit strange that the speed didn’t go over 1kmph – we could walk faster – but we had fun riding up and down the coastal path until all of a sudden I heard a shriek. Helen had shot off into the distance, as though, in her words, she had picked up a speed boost mushroom in Mario Kart. My own scooter gained a life of its own a few seconds later. Unable to control them alongside traffic and pedestrians we gave up, puzzled by what had happened until we learned we had been in a restricted speed area, presumably crossing an invisible line.

Scooter in slow mo

The last couple of days were spent enjoying our lake view apartment, watching the sunsets, going for walks as well as our first Romanian Face Massage, a slightly scary but satisfying experience.

All of a sudden, Romania concluded my ten weeks ten countries tour. Ironically it was getting home to the UK that caused me the most hassle as after examining my Passenger Locator Form, Vaccine Passport and negative Covid Test, the Wizz Air checkin woman told me to step aside as her supervisor was calling the British police. This is not what you want to hear at an airport. I was relieved to find out I was not actually being arrested on return as Helen wondered, but incredulous to find out it was “not OK‘” that my Covid test was not verified by a Romanian company. This was complete BS, as the UK entry requirements displayed on a huge poster right in front of her stated and as was eventually confirmed a tense ten minutes later by whoever her supervisor had called. A jobsworth at security followed by “random” swabbing of hands and feet were the final obstacles – despite not wanting my summer travels to end it’s safe to say I have never been so happy to board a flight home.

When I took 3 months off work in July, people said don’t bother as you won’t be able to go anywhere, don’t you know there is a pandemic?! Actually it provided the opportunity to visit a totally new part of the world, starting with a one way ticket to Montenegro. The Balkans are unlike the rest of Europe, definitely not the easiest place to travel and it takes time to get around but that is part of the charm. Ten weeks and ten countries later, I have visited Wales, Scotland, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Albania, Serbia, North Macedonia, Kosovo, Greece and Romania – my advice is to just go!

The Road to Romania, from Albania to Athens

September 28, 2021November 19, 2024Posted in Albania, Europe, Greece, Travel1 Comment

A bit of an explanation is needed as to how I ended up in Greece. For the final week of my trip I had arranged to meet Original Travel Companion Helen, in Romania. At the time when we made this plan, Romania seemed the perfect choice being both on the UK’s Green List and on bus routes to neighbouring countries Serbia, Macedonia, and Bulgaria. My initial plan was to take the train from Macedonia into Bulgaria enroute to Romania – until Bulgaria closed it’s borders to non-EU citizens. Thanks Brexit! My second plan was to bus it from Serbia into Romania – until the bus route was cancelled. Thanks Covid! My third route was a bus from Macedonia into Thessanoliki, Greece then fly into Romania. Also cancelled. By this point we had decided we would quite like to visit Romania so my route of choice became a €10 bus from my current location of Prizren, Kosovo, back into neighbouring Albania, followed by a flight from Tirana to Athens, giving me the opportunity to spend a few days there before a flight to Bucharest to meet Helen.

All good until my body chose the one and only morning where I had absolutely no time to spare having booked an inter-country bus and a flight on the same day to sleep through my alarm and wake up at the exact moment my bus was crossing the Kosovo / Albania border. Not to worry as money solves most things in the Balkans and I was in the very privileged position of being able to take a taxi all the way from Prizren, Kosovo to the airport in Tirana, Albania. The guy at my hotel reception called his friend who is a taxi driver and assured me he was on his way, he was just stopping off to get a PCR test so he could cross the border himself… 100 euros and just two hours later I was safely at Tirana airport too early to even check in. This is a good example of why it’s a good idea to have an emergency travel fund when you’re short on time. No questions asked as to how the driver got his ‘PCR’ result within 15 mins and never mind that the border police didn’t even look at me sat in the back of the car fully masked up as the driver simply passed our documents through the window.

I arrived in Athens and checked into the strangely named Safestay Hostel where I had to change rooms 3 times and the only selling point was the rooftop terrace with it’s sunset views over the Acropolis.

The next day I hopped onto a bicycle tour of the city, always a good way to orientate yourself and see where you want to come back to. Athens is a great place for trying vegan versions of Greek food – the breakfast at Nudie Foodie, souvlaki at Veganaki and moussaka at Mamma Tierra were all amazing.

The cycle trip with ‘Athens By Bike’ was great although it included the return of the Middle Aged Americans, and the Middle Aged American Couples at that who couldn’t even deal with sitting separately from one another at the ice-cream stop (“this seat is reserved for My Wife”). I actually took delight in cycling between them and seeing them frantically try to catch up again.

I also loved stumbling upon the Remember Fashion punk clothing shop with the guestbook full of my rock heroes.

A visit to the Acropolis musem would probably be a good idea before a visit to the ruins themselves as mostly I didn’t really know what I was looking at, again wondering if I actually attended any history lessons at school or if we really didn’t learn any of this. The Acropolis is something I’ve always wanted to see so here are a few photos even if they have no explanation…

Instead of rushing off for a day trip elsewhere, I had a full day wandering around the city, browsing the ruins and the Natural Archaeological museum. It always fascinates me how jewellery made thousands of years ago is not that different to the styles made today and the hoards of treasures found in the Mycenae graves were enough to keep even a museum skeptic like me interested for a couple of hours.

I couldn’t leave Greece without a trip to the beach. Edem beach is just half an hour outside the city centre by team and was actually very nice with water over 20 degrees Celsius despite the hostel woman telling me otherwise.

And all of a sudden three days in Athens concluded the solo aspect of my European tour – final stop Romania!