South America – Maz On The Road

Two Wasters in a Country Club – Paraguay Part 1

May 9, 2023November 19, 2024Posted in Paraguay, South America, TravelTagged backpacking, ciudad del este, Paraguay, South America, travel blogLeave a comment

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷‍♀️

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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)

May 9, 2023November 25, 2024Posted in Argentina, South America, TravelTagged Argentina, backpacking, iguazu falls, South America, Travel, travel blog1 Comment

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!

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

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.

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).

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.

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 🤯

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).

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.

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.

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.

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”.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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 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

April 29, 2023November 26, 2024Posted in South America, Travel, UruguayTagged backpacking, caballos, horses, solo travel, Travel, travel blog, UruguayLeave a comment

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.

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!”.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 🤦🏻‍♀️

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.

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.

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)

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….