Friday 20 January 2012

Brazil Part 2: Monkeying Around

I've got ants in my pants. Only metaphorically, of course, but it wouldn't be a surprise if I had them literally as we have just been in the Amazon Rainforest. Still, if they were literally in my pants I wouldn't be sitting around happily writing this blog post when the ants there are giant, carnivorous and cause twenty hours of pain with just one bite.

Anyway, I digress. The reason there are (imaginary) ants in my pants is because I'm so ridiculously excited to write this post. Honestly, I can't sit still! Our Amazon adventure was unbelievably fabulous, and the things we did so unique, that just the mere thought of writing about them makes me feel madly happy because I can't believe that we actually did them. Experience of a lifetime? Abso-frickin'-lutely.

As 'eco-friendly' is our new holiday mantra, there couldn't be a more natural or ideal place to stay than in the jungle itself. Ariau Towers is a great 'hotel' on the banks of the Amazon River and each building is on stilts to avoid environmental disruption. There are a few 'towers' which have multiple bedrooms but there are also individual wood cabins actually in the treetops fabulously named 'Tarzan Houses;' both are surrounded by the massive trees that make up the forest canopy layer and both are frequented by monkeys if you leave any entrances unattended (so don't ever bend over naked.)


I've been mad about the rainforest ever since 'A' Level Geography class where I learnt about the importance of it to human survival and the awful impact of deforestation. That most of the deforestation was taking place because McDonalds and other companies needed space for cattle ranches to meet demand for their shit 'food' (and to allow this beef to be as cheap as possible) sickened me to my very core and it was the reason I boycotted all fast food places from then onwards. Humankind can easily live without them but it can't survive without the 'Lungs of the Planet' providing the majority of the world's oxygen. Anyway, since then, I've been trying to boycott a lot of products of companies that destroy the rainforest and all of our carbon footprint offsetting over the past five years has gone towards preserving this magical landmass.

So you can imagine how much this trip meant to me; how excited - and, if I'm honest, slightly emotional - I was about finally going to see the area I consider to be the most important on earth. Expectations too high, you think? Perhaps, but guess what? It did NOT disappoint! In fact, our rainforest experience was so incredible that it far exceeded our dreams and we want to go again and again! It was almost on a par with Patagonia as the best part of our trip and second only to it in terms of magnificence. Patagonia still clinches the top spot but it's a close one: neck and neck until the rainforest mosquitoes took a liking to us!



Fun fact time first (say that really fast over and over). The Rainforest has been around for 55 million years - this fact just makes it even more depressing that more than half of the world's rainforests have been destroyed in the last fifty years alone. There's nowhere on earth that can match the Amazon Rainforest for its bio-diversity with literally millions of flora and fauna species inhabiting the area. But many have already become extinct through deforestation. Humans really suck.

There is debate amongst experts as to whether the Amazon River or the Nile is the longest on the planet. I say, who cares? - they're both huge. The Amazon is definitely the largest in terms of waterflow though, sometimes being referred to as 'the River Sea' because of its size. It's something like 5000 miles long and up to 30 miles wide in the wet season. Crickey Mikey!



On the day we arrived at Ariau Towers we inadvertently acted out a scene from 'Friends.' Climbing off the boat onto the hotel's deck, I was busy excitedly taking in the surroundings and hadn't noticed Imran's hair - which hasn't been cut for three months - expanding in size. "What happened to your hair?" I asked him when I finally looked at him. "IT'S THE HUMIDITY!" he cried. Needless to say, I spent the rest of our time there calling him Monica. And that wasn't the only entertainment he provided, either. There were monkeys running all around the hotel grounds. People are told not to touch or feed them so as to not disrupt their natural eating and living patterns, but tourists have obviously ignored this rule because the monkeys are very reliant on food taken from humans. Anyway, Imran sat down on a hammock outside of the reception area and pulled out a can of cashew nuts. Within five seconds, about ten monkeys came charging towards him and jumped on him to get the nuts! He was well and truly ambushed. One monkey grabbed his head; another really feisty one clung to his back with fierce determination and Imran swung round and round until he was flung off by the force of the spin. Then a little old lady grabbed Imran and pulled him into her office for safety. I WISH I had gotten a picture for you because it was actually hilarious but it happened too quickly. I didn't let you down, I made all the jokes I know you're thinking right now: don't take your nuts out in public Imran or the monkeys will want to get their hands on them; you should keep your nuts hidden in your shorts Imran; leave your nuts alone and you'll avoid any monkey business!




That afternoon we were asked: "Do you want to go swimming in the Amazon River with pink dolphins? We'll understand if you're tired from your journey and don't want to." Tired?! As if that's a reason to give up an opportunity like this! We rode down the river in a canoe, every scene exactly like the ones shown on tv. Brown water - not dirty, just rich with certain sediments - and lush, tropical jungle on either side. Imran began to have second thoughts about going in the river. He needed the loo and couldn't get the story of the Candiru fish out of his head (see Mainland Ecuador post.) So I jumped right in instead. Turned out the pink dolphins (yep, they really are part pink) weren't very friendly and had no interest in playing with us. Fair enough; we were in their territory, after all. But there was no need to whack me round the legs with their tails each time I touched them - a dirty look would suffice! Imran eventually got in the water too and forgot all about his need to pee when he was told to keep his hands above water in case the dolphins mistook them for fish and tried to eat them. It was a great experience. Dolphins - even unfriendly ones - rock!




That evening we went for a sunset ride in the canoe. All we could see for miles in every direction were a dozen shades of green, brown, yellow and blue. The water was so still and serene that we could see our own reflections and the only noise was the various calls of the birds. The air was fresh and clean and smelt of flowers. It was breathtaking. As night arrived we went searching for caimans, or members of the alligator family as they're better known! It was pitch black with only the moon lighting our way. Night is when the rainforest comes alive. There was a soft breeze and the only obvious movement was the peaceful ripple of the canoe through the water. We could hear every sound imaginable: sitting in awed silence we listened to an orchestra of croaks, tweets, squawks, peeps, whistles, hums, buzzing, howls and hoots.






Reassuringly, our guide told us that caimans are most aggressive species in the Amazon. They eat snakes, piranhas and even dolphins! The only predator they have is the jaguar but they're still the most aggressive in their hunting. Perhaps luckily then, we only found a baby one. The guys who steer the canoes are pretty crazy and just jump in the water and grab one, without any consideration for life or limb. Our guy, Antonio, was such a dude. He thought it would be funny to pretend he was being eaten alive which other tourists did not appreciate but we found pretty funny! Remembering our pact, brave Imran decided to hold the caiman despite our guide's warnings. "The babies are capable of taking a finger or two in a split second," she said, holding up an incomplete hand. (Turned out she was also a joker and her hand was fully intact!) After a while, I started to feel a bit funny in my tummy when everyone was taking dozens of pictures of the caiman instead of just one (it's very sensitive to light in its eyes) and one of the tourists on our boat was holding it in the air like a trophy and pretending to throw it around like a football. But luckily our guide decided it was time to put him in the water (the caiman, not the tourist unfortunately.) What a crazy first day.




The following morning, Imran got up at five to go and watch the sun rise over the river. Or, should I say, he went to take photos because he is obsessed with that bloody camera! Obviously I stayed in bed until it was time to go for a jungle trek. We didn't venture very far into the forest which was fine by us because we weren't overly excited at the prospect of meeting snakes and tarantulas, but we still saw an amazing variety of plant life. It was very hot and humid and became darker and darker as we walked deeper into the forest. We sniffed the menthol tree which is used to make Vics vapour rub and avoided the leaves that cause muscle paralysis and are used to make anaesthetic; we tasted the bitter leaves from which all malaria medicines are created and tapped a tree to release the resin that makes aspirin; we marvelled at the Pau Rosa wood which yields oil used in Chanel No 5 perfume and retched as we were offered live larvae to eat (taste like coconut cream apparently and just ten of them contain more protein than a kilo of meat, but after holding one and seeing how squidgy and wriggly it was, we couldn't bring ourselves to try one!) It was a very interesting and enjoyable trek but we came back to Ariau Towers swollen and itchy with our most painful mosquito bites to date (and only had ourselves to blame as we had completely forgotten to put any repellent on. Who on earth forgets mozzie repellent in the rainforest?!) If only we'd found the natural source of antihistamines in the forest - I would've sucked that leaf bone dry!




That afternoon we went piranha fishing. It was SO much fun. We just had a bamboo stick with a thread and hook attached and some pieces of meat to use as bait. They were crafty little devils to begin with and would simply find a way to pull the meat away from the hook without getting caught. But eventually we started to catch some. Imran and I both caught about four each - all black ones for him and all red ones (the tastier ones!) for me. Antonio held one as we pulled it out of the water and put things in its mouth so we could see the ferocity of its teeth: damn, those things can bite! I learned I am perhaps more anal about clean hands than I previously thought because I kept washing my meat-covered fingers in the river. Obviously the benefit of actually having fingers is far outweighed by the desire to wash them in a river abundant with a killer of a fish with a voracious appetite for meat. We did eat the piranhas at dinner. They were tasty enough although the ratio of meat to bones was a bit out of kilter. The fishing was definitely more fun than the reward of eating them!


At night we visited an indigenous Indian tribe. This was the most affecting activity we did during our stay; the one that really made our hearts skip a beat and think: "Wow, we are really in the Amazon." I don't remember exactly what the name of the tribe was but I THINK it was a small part of the Satere-Mawe tribe. The tribe has a number of family communities with their own leader and the leader of this particular one was one of the few willing to allow tourists' visits. The tribes had previously been forced off their land due to big corporations destroying it in the search for gold and oil. They left for the nearby city of Manaus where prejudice against the native Indians drove them back to the forest, but here they were rejected by the other tribes for disloyalty to their original home. Ariau Towers was helping the tribe members when they had no other option and in return, they allowed us to go and see an important ritual.

Our canoe hit the banks of the river in total darkness. There was an eerie silence and, hearts thumping, we climbed out onto the land and stood still, waiting. Suddenly, a loud horn sounded, scaring the bejesus out of us, and two young boys appeared from the shadows holding a big wooden club. They were completely naked with the exception of a string around their waists and a flap covering their baby makers. Barefoot and without a word, they led us through the forest blowing the horn every other minute. We couldn't see where we were going; we were stepping on wet things, dry things, things that crunched and things that moved. We could smell smoke in the distance. Then they just stopped. We all stood in front of a gigantic tree completely in the dark (both literally and in the unknowing sense) when one of them took an almighty swing against the tree with the club. BOOM. Louder than any drum; echoing through the entire forest and vibrating through every cell in our bodies. And again. BOOM. Holy moly, what was going to happen? Then in the distance, a reply. BOOM. And the horn from elsewhere in the forest. It was a signal to tell the tribe how close we were and to expect us soon. Then we walked some more, awed beyond belief, until we came to a group of huts lit up by a fire. Welcome to the tribal village.

We met the leader of the tribe who told us through a translator that she was happy we could be here to enjoy the ritual with them. The facial expressions of the other members didn't show an agreement with her views. We were told we were very lucky to see this particular ritual as it's only done when there are boys of age available, and the last time was over four months ago. The ritual she spoke of was one that marks the coming of age of pubescent boys and tests their strength as future warriors. Remember those crazy giant ants I told you about? Well, they're known as bullet ants because their bite is apparently as painful as taking a bullet shot. One potent sting causes 'waves of throbbing pain unabated for twenty-four hours.' A whole bunch of these ants are woven into a big glove and the boy in question has to put his hand in the glove for ten to forty minutes. Afterwards his arm is temporarily paralysed due to the venom and he has to spend a week in isolation to recover. Some don't make it. I was NOT looking forward to seeing this! But tribal rituals are part of a private culture and Westerners have no right to impose their own judgements and moral views of what is or isn't acceptable on such communities.

We were allowed to take pictures but it didn't feel right. It felt disrespectful and a bit like treating the people as performing seals. We took a couple but couldn't bring ourselves to do the same as that annoying tourist already mentioned: he ran around the hut touching anything he wanted, grabbed the sacred glove and threw it at his brother and took photos of all the people without permission. Some tribes believe that photos capture the souls of their children and so should only be taken with permission from the leader. Tourists might be viewed a bit more positively and more sincerely welcomed rather than seen as a painful necessity if they had a bit more sensitivity.

First the whole tribe started chanting. Then they held hands and sang and danced around the hut to the sound of a rattle and the intermittent horn. We were so enraptured by the mesmerising singing that we didn't notice one of the boys was wearing the glove. After about fifteen minutes, the ceremony ended and the boy went away. We got to look inside the glove.



I hate to be cynical here but I'm not sure this was a real ceremony. I think it was a re-enactment of a real ceremony but one that is slowly becoming less common. I don't think we were exceptionally lucky to see the ritual as I believe it is done for tourists fairly often. Allowing tourists to see it is one thing but allowing them to join in the dancing is another. There were many reasons that made me think all this but I don't say it negatively. At the end of the day, just being in the village with the indigenous people was a mind-blowing experience enough. Seeing the ritual with the song and dance was fantastic and it's therefore irrelevant if it was actually to commemorate the boy's transition into adulthood or whether they were just showing us what happens when they do have this ceremony. I don't think the boy's hand was unprotected in the glove and I'm glad - do they believe us tourists are so cruel that we wouldn't be happy with seeing this event unless we saw him go through pain? We won't ever know for sure if I was right but it doesn't matter: the experience was phenomenal and one of the best things we've ever been privileged enough to see, and we'd actually prefer if it was just a show so that a highly important rite of passage wasn't turned into a circus act. The two kids took us back through the forest and we returned in silence, all of us lost in our own thoughts of this amazing night.


Deciding to do something a bit less emotionally deep the next day, Imran and I went tree climbing. It was awesome! Our tree was only about 30m high and the climbing was pretty easy thanks to the harnesses we were strapped in. Imran's highlight was reaching the top and lying in the hammock tied to the branches. My highlight was swinging in the air like a wild monkey and jumping off and onto branches! 




In the afternoon we visited the home of some natives. This was a different ethnic group to the indigenous Indian tribe we'd met the night before, and they had more contact with the outside world. Most of the sons of the family's head worked in the city of Manaus while the rest of the family continued to live fairly traditional lives in the Amazon, albeit with mobile phones. It was interesting and a great deal of fun hanging out with the father - he was jolly and energetic and wanted to show us everything. He dug up manioc roots and got his kids to make fresh cassava bread for us; he cut down branches from the trees with his machete in order to feed us fresh cashews; and he excitedly showed us the Urucum plant with its bright red pods, the inner seeds of which contain a pigment shipped to France to make lipstick. This was a modern day showcase of the way the natives really live now at its best.




What an incredible day, yet again! It needed to be toasted with a drink. The Caipirinhas in Brazil have been out of this world. They're so strong that I only need one to be dancing on the tables but Imran's been drinking them like water. He frequented the Ariau bar so often that the barman decided he should just learn how to make them himself. Now that he's got the concoction down to a 'T' expect to be offered a load of these when you're next at our house!




We left Ariau Towers the following morning overcome with disappointment. We loved this part of our trip so much and just didn't want the experiences to end. It had been unbearably humid and baking hot for our entire duration but it started pouring with rain on the morning we left, so maybe that was nature's way of saying it was time to go. We took a boat to the shores of Manaus but luckily for us, there was one more sight we could see on the way: the famous 'Meeting of the Rivers.' Rio Negro and Rio Solimoes are two tributaries of the Amazon River that run alongside one another for six miles. The former is black and the latter is yellow due to the different sediment in each. On top of this, each river has its own unique density, water temperature and velocity which means the two meet but never mix. You have to see it to believe it, and we were amazed when we did. Nature is just brilliant! Of course, the pouring rain that started in the morning had now turned into a fully-fledged storm and we were struggling in a boat on the open water. But this is laid-back Brazil where anything goes: we arrived at the airport to fly to Salvador and were at the check-in desk exactly fifteen minutes before the flight was due to depart... and we were still able to get on the plane! Only in Brazil.




The Amazon Rainforest didn't let me down. It thrilled and moved us and only strengthened our resolve to take measures to help with its survival. It covers over a billion acres so it's understandable why people think it's too large to ever be impacted detrimentally. But while this way of thinking might have once been understandable, we now know deforestation is having far-reaching negative impacts. We NEED the rainforest because we can't survive without it, simple as that. It gives us oxygen and cools the earth. While I don't believe that 'global warming' as a man-made problem exists, I do believe that caring for the environment is important because humans are simply shortening their existence by slowly making the earth uninhabitable for themselves. Nature will always be stronger than us and when humans do eventually become extinct, planet earth will carry on. But if we're going down, we have no right to take so many other species with us.

Most species of animals in the Amazon are disappearing because of illegal biological trade. This trade covers two industries. One: endangered animals being shipped abroad so that people with more money than sense can have exotic, live pets as part of their private collections. Two: live animals and plants illegally taken to animal testing laboratories in Europe and the US owned by the big pharmaceutical companies. Now, let's put aside any debate about animal testing. Let's also put aside any bias I might have against Western medicine as a whole. Let's just ask one simple question: when the pharmaceutical industry makes billions upon billions of dollars each year, why can't it source plants and animals ethically and legally and pay to do the research? The cheaper the research costs, the cheaper they can sell pills to us with the overall effect of both being they generate more profit. Should they be allowed to keep these kinds of things secret? They serve us, the buying public; we have a right to know how our products get to us and they should answer to us if we don't like their methods.

Cattle ranches are the reason why football field-sized patches of rainforest are cleared every minute. The processes used for this are so damaging that there is no chance of the forest recuperating itself. It's a sad state of affairs if the Western world is so dependent on Flame Grilled Whoppers and if it wants cheap meat in its supermarkets so badly that it won't spend the equivalent of a Big Mac to buy British meat products instead. Our demands - and buying habits - rule the food industry. And the more that people ask about the provenance of food in restaurants or wherever else, the more likely the buyers are to change their suppliers. Let's not forget about the people. The rainforest is home to not only wildlife but other human beings who have spent thousands of years living in harmony with it. The Amazon is their home, their way of life and their survival. Is it really right that someone from our part of the world can come along and say: "Sorry, but we need you to sod off now so we can build a new McDonalds in Trafalgar Square. It's not fair that the nearest one is currently six minutes walk away. Go on, off you go. Don't care where" ?

Palm oil comes from the rainforest. The increase in usage of it means its manufacture is now contributing to the destruction quite heavily. It's used in the Western world in a lot of processed junk food and in all supermarket microwaveable ready-meals (with the exception of M&S who just recently announced they were taking it out of all ready-meals. Certainly a step in the right direction.) People don't need to do anything except just be aware, that's all. If people are aware, some will care and it's only when enough people care that change happens.

The Galapagos Islands are a perfect example of a time when man used his noggin. The area was exploited so much at first until the powers-that-be realised conservation was not only vital but also the key to profit. Now they work hard at maintaining every island and ensuring nothing is overly disturbed, and charge lots of money to tourists keen to see such untouched natural beauty. Win-win. I don't know what can be done with regards to the Amazon Rainforest. All I know is, to care is easy but to not give a shit is a disaster waiting to happen. Our world is so beautiful and it will be a crying shame to only realise that when it's too late.

My final Brazil post will be written on the plane going back home and will be posted once we're back in freezing London. We're dreading the weather but very much looking forward to seeing you all!


Wednesday 11 January 2012

Brazil Part 1: Rio De Janeiro


Imran is a very easy man to understand. He likes food, women and a thumping bass line. And when it comes to food and women, he likes exactly the same characteristics in each: juicy breasts, meaty thighs and succulent rumps. Nicely browned but a bit pink when slapped around a bit. So you can imagine how much he was looking forward to Brazil - a country any more perfect for him? I don't think so.

There could be no better place to start, therefore, than Rio De Janeiro; the land where arses are always on show and wearing a piece of dental floss between the cheeks is just a formality; the city where everyone wants nothing more than a beach to lie on, a Caipirinha in one hand and a joint in the other. Imran and I had agreed to get all our talking out of the way before we went to Rio - once there I knew he'd be too busy gawping at the fabulous views to take any notice of what I had to say. Imagine our surprise then when we arrived at our hotel on Ipanema beach and realised it was I who'd be gawping and that we should just forget about the women because Rio is all about the men. 

Sure, there were female buttocks on show at every turn but they weren't always the young bonny kind Imran was expecting. The women are certainly all very sexy because of their supreme self-confidence and the girls that ARE fit are stop-traffic-beautiful and stunning and more gorgeous than any model, but contrary to popular belief and Snoop Dogg videos, they're not the norm. So if it's purely the perfect physical form you're after, it's better to be female or gay because 90% of the men look like they've just walked straight off the covers of Men's Fitness magazine. I've never seen anything like it! It was so refreshing to be in a place where the women are accepted for being exactly how they want or how they are (whether skinny or bootylicious or anything in between) and it's the men who have to make all the effort to look good. Every country should be more like Brazil!




Of course, we got more than our fair share of buff bods because we were staying right on Section 9 of Ipanema beach; this, we found, is the gay area and so we were bumping into trim and toned torsos every three steps. These guys were strutting around, caramel skins waxed to within an inch of their lives, manly bits heavily constricted in the tightest of budgie smugglers, pouting and basically trying to stand out in a sea of manly competition. It was quite possibly the best people-watching I've ever done (and I don't mean in a pervy way, ok?!)

Now before I start sounding like a desperate housewife (perhaps already too late, I imagine) let me tell you what we liked about Rio because we really did love it a crazy amount and thought it was the best city on our trip so far. It's quite simply the city that epitomises the word FUN. The people, the atmosphere and the general vibe are easy-going, happy and relaxed. Life is all about enjoying yourself here and never taking it or yourself too seriously. It's not flashy or upmarket, nor does it try to be. If it's airs and graces tourists want, they'll just tell them to go elsewhere. 

Food-wise, Rio was the most perfect place for us: juice bars on every street and more sushi places than Tokyo (ok, that's a slight exaggeration.) I guess the guys need to eat well in order to keep their bums looking peachy in those speedos. Brazil has a huge Japanese community (in number, not physical size) so that explains the sushi madness.

Ever wanted to know what it'd be like to go to a beach party with two million guests? We found out as we arrived in Rio in time to celebrate NYE. Copacabana beach was only an hour's walk from our hotel along the coastline and we headed down around 7pm to find it was already jam-packed. Just crossing the road outside the main stage took nearly an hour so when Imran had to go and use a loo I knew he'd be gone a long time. Luckily, three crazy Brazilian chicks who couldn't speak a word of English and had been drinking since 3pm took pity on this poor loner of an English gal and befriended me. They weren't the usual type of lasses I hang out with - need a pee? Just squat down wherever you happen to be standing  in front of thousands of other people and then kick some sand over it - but they were lively and cheerful and hysterically asked Imran if he'd enjoyed his.. er, self treat when he eventually made his way back to us (their interpretation of what I'd acted out when asked of his whereabouts - no wonder they'd laughed like loons.) We could only converse through the shouting out of words that cross all international borders: Kate and William! David Beckham! Obama! Arsenal! Bob Marley! I love Brazil! All got a massive cheer from anyone within hearing distance.





The experience of NYE here is sheer madness. Everybody is having fun and there's surprisingly no trouble considering the amount of drunks around. It's that laid-back attitude again. Just two million people all wearing white, 1.25m of them Brazilian, jumping in the air and singing until 8am. It was a fantastic atmosphere. Even the drizzling rain that went on all night didn't dampen any spirits; in fact, it was welcome in the heat and to wash off the stickiness of champagne being sprayed everywhere. (Brazilian sparkling wine is so bad that even the locals don't drink it.) The fireworks at midnight are meant to be amongst the best in the world but although fantastic, I think it's more the sheer size of them that makes them so spectacular as enough are needed to be seen along 4km of coastline. Everyone was incredibly friendly, aware that we were all here to celebrate together and at midnight you find yourself being sincerely hugged by about fifty strangers.




As much as Imran may be in denial about his age, even he would think it a bit sad to befriend 17 year olds. But that's exactly what happened that night simply because they were the only people who spoke English and they really wanted to practise their language skills with us. The best linguist, a very pretty lad called Felipe, was highly entertaining. Our introduction to him consisted of his offering of condoms. Pointing to the crazy drunk chicks, he said: "That woman there wants me to give you these because she says you need sex protection." A perfect example of how brain cells are affected by alcohol. "No thanks," we replied. "We've been married for five years and don't have any kids - what does that tell you?" Then we all laughed before Felipe gave me a bear hug and said, "I'm sooo happy to meet with you because my English is speaking really good and never I have opportunity to practise with real people from England!" To be fair, his English was excellent for such a young 'un and he was a great person to talk to. He offered Imran a swig from his bottle of random Brazilian liquor and only after Imran was done wiping the spills from his chin did he wisely inform us: "In Rio you should never accept drinks from strangers."

We were near the main stage as David Guetta was playing at 2am and as the time approached, we negotiated through the crowds to try to get a bit closer. "I have read there are many gay people in England," Felipe shouted to me as we climbed over passed-out bodies. 

"Not as many as in Rio," I answered, reminding him that out of the twelve people we'd spent most time with that night - mad wasted women included - only three were heterosexual. "There is large gay community in England but it's not as open or obvious."

"Homosexuality is not open here," he replied as he helped me side step a four-way male group snog. "You didn't know I am gay until I tell to you I was."

"Honey," I laughed, "I knew you were gay before I even spoke to you 'cause you're as camp as bloody Christmas!" He didn't quite understand that. But he was adamant that his dream to go to a rural English village and meet other gay men was still alive and well. I told him to research Brighton instead or better still, just head to New York where he could be as flamboyant as is humanely possible.

We danced along with the masses to David Guetta's set for a little while before age finally caught up with us. We like a party as much as the next person but we're not teenagers willing to slum it anymore. As fantastic as New Year is in Rio as a once-in-a-lifetime experience, after eight hours the crowds, sweat, discomfort and refusal to use a portaloo with two million people gets too much. Felipe had been missing for a little while and suddenly came hurrying back to us, his face flushed. "I nearly got raped by a huge man!" Not quite responding to the drama in the required theatrical teenage fashion we asked him what he had done. "I had to kiss him.. It was the only way to get rid of him! Can you please hold my bag? I need to find someone else to kiss on." 

Sorry dude, that was our cue to remember how grateful we are those young years are behind us and leave. We danced down the beach to the shoreline (passing Felipe who was back with his apparent near-rapist) where hundreds of families were playing in the surf and walked back to Ipanema. It was a brilliant New year.. but just the one time!

The following day, Rio was a ghost town. The people cleaning the beach and roads could do so at their leisure as people were still sleeping off their celebrations at 2pm. It was the most deserted we'd seen the streets for days and human bodies only started to emerge after 3pm, albeit refreshed and ready for another party. Can't blame them - the Caipirinhas here are something else!

The Snoop Dogg and Pharrell video for 'Beautiful' is filmed in Rio and during a day of exploring we decided to visit the sites shown most in the video and re-enact it. Sad, I know. But hey, we're easily entertained.

We went to the famous steps of Escadaria Selaron. These were once normal steps in the neighbourhood of Lapa until a Chilean artist moved into one of the houses alongside them and spent over thirty years decorating them. (Check it out on Wiki because it's very interesting but this post is too long already to give more details.) We didn't see the artist but he still lives there and apparently comes out occasionally, drunk out of his mind, sometimes jolly and happy to greet the tourists and at other times miserable and refusing to talk to anyone. We sat down, Imran as Snoop and me as Pharrell and sang the song. Yes, people thought we were mad - only the American visitors knew exactly what we were doing and took their own versions of the same picture!




After a bike ride around the city's lagoon (with the world's biggest floating Christmas tree in the middle) we headed to Parque Lage which is simply a beautiful building. It has no roof and the views above are of the famous Christ statue and surrounding mountains. This is where Snoop parties with all the chicks in bikinis at the end of the video. We didn't have anyone in bikinis around but Imran still got into character and bust a few moves. Luckily, we then stopped being gangster rappers and went back to being ourselves.




The Botanical Garden was my favourite attraction in Rio. It's full of trees, plain and simple. And as trees are my most favourite thing in the whole of the natural world, I loved it. Even Imran was quite awed by the beauty of the place, especially the famous palm tree-lined 'avenue' in the middle of the Gardens.




The most well-known attractions in Rio are Sugar Loaf mountain and Christ the Redeemer statue, the latter being one of the Modern Wonders of the World. Personally, I think they're more spectacular seen from a small distance as they lose a bit of their majesty on the site's actual location due to the many, many tourists. My guess is a helicopter would be the best way to see these most impressively but we didn't do that. They were still remarkable, though. Cable cars take you to the top of Sugar Loaf from where there are awesome views of the entire city, and when we saw the Christ statue, there was a massive amount of mist swirling around which made it look even more imposing and heavenly. I can see why it's a Modern Wonder.




The Rio Carnival takes place in February so we made the long journey out of Rio to an area called Nelopolis to watch a Beija Flor samba rehearsal for the event. You can't go to Brazil and not dance some samba! It was fun but not quite as much fun as we were hoping: I think we forgot we were going to a rehearsal. We danced along to the bands at first, trying to copy the moves of a little old lady having the time of her life but even after a few Caipirinhas it was really difficult! After the rehearsal started, there was a lot of standing around and waiting (to be expected with thousands of people, I guess). When they did dance, it wasn't choreographed as we expected but more like an outdoor nightclub with everyone doing their own thing.. and amongst all the amazing movers, there were some really bad ones! The choreographed dancing started close to 1am but we had to leave; knowing the Brazilians, it probably went on all night. The area in which the rehearsals were being held was very charismatic and more like 'real' Rio. It was very run-down with streets packed with people, blaring music speakers and the smoke of food being cooked on makeshift barbecues. The sense of community and the atmosphere were pretty cool.

We had planned to visit a favela in Rio - a Brazilian slum. Tourists are encouraged to go here as the drug lords who run them want the money coming in from visitors so ensure it's a safe place to be. We even wanted to go to a favela party! However, in recent times the favelas have been taken over by the police and the situation is a bit more precarious. We were still going to go to Rocinha, the largest one, but had to cancel as five people were shot dead by the police the night before our planned visit. How depressing. But there's always the beach in Rio to uplift your spirits.




People-watching opportunities in Rio are best on the beach and Copacabana is possibly the best one for this. You can get a glimpse of the entire culture here. At sunset the beach is alive with cheery people, unwinding at one of the many beachside bars drinking Caipirinhas or the juice from a freshly-cut coconut. Some are smoking shishas; others ganja. Topless joggers occupy the special paths next to the roads while men with bodies made of brick do pull-ups on the many mini gyms lining the beach. The smell of fried prawns and empanadas fill your nostrils. On the beach itself, there are all sorts of sporting activities going on from exercise classes, football matches (naturally) and family games to our personal favourite, the incredibly skillful 'folleyball' (our term for volleyball using only heads, chests and feet. I think it's more officially known as footvolley or footbag net.) You can watch and shake your head as lame Western men buy their dates for the night from the array of local women offering themselves. There's an artisan market here every evening from 6pm until midnight but it's quite small compared to the cool Hippie Market in Ipanema every Sunday.




In summary, we found Rio to be a fantastic place. It had it all for us: beautiful nature, a beach, a busy city vibe alongside relaxation, good food and drink, and  down to earth people wanting to engage in conversation regardless of whether or not you can say a word in each other's language. In one beach bar we asked a guy what he was eating and he moved all of his stuff, came and sat with us and told us to eat it with him. That just sums up the people. They're always smiling and don't let anything stress them. The man-made parts of the city might not be much to look at but every area finds and celebrates its unique identity with a community spirit. They don't need to be fancy or spend more than the next person on anything with an elitist name in order to feel good about themselves because they know that would be a losing battle: they believe happiness comes from enjoying life and finding pleasure in the most simple and time-tested ways. They're proud to be Brazilian, content in their own skin and don't search for self-fulfilment outside of that. In that respect, we could all learn a lot from Rio's Cariocas in today's world.

Goodbye, Rio de Janeiro: we'll most definitely see you again!


Argentina: Siga La Vaca (Follow the Cow)

Imran and I did some role-playing in Argentina. Wash your mind out with soap, you dirty devil - there's nothing dodgy in this blog. I refer to the fact that Argentina was the cause of a role reversal between us: an uncharacteristic impatience with and dislike of the people on my part, and a tolerant understanding and positivity on Imran's part. Such an alien situation. Now I know how those people in body-swap films must feel. Just call us Zac Efron and Matthew Perry ('17 Again' for those sensible enough to have not seen it.)

It's because of this negativity that I didn't want to write this post but after a metaphorical kick up the jacksie I'm going to get on with it, and if I sound like a total misery guts just blame it on female hormones or something. But be warned: the next couple of paragraphs are a RANT!

So... where shall I start? How about with the most horrible thing I can say and then it'll just be uphill from there? Nearly all of the Argentinian people we met were wholly incompetent. You can of course pay a lot of money to get some competence but even then it's a matter of luck if you get it. I guess we felt this more than other travellers because we were awaiting the arrival of an important parcel sent from London and needed to rely on the locals to get it after it was held at customs (sounds really suspicious, I know!) I won't go into detail but after three days of chasing and running around DHL offices in the city with nobody giving us the correct information, literally hundreds of pounds paid out, hours upon hours wasted and a highly unlikely bursting-into-tears by yours truly, we finally cut our losses and decided to give up dealing with these rude and clueless people. I never did get my package. And knowing the Argentinians, we'll probably receive a bill in five years for storage costs.

I know I'm generalising about an entire nation and I shouldn't. I'm obviously still very bitter about not being given my parcel! But we couldn't help compare the people here to the Chileans who, if asked a question to which they don't know the answer, will say they don't know and do whatever it takes to get the correct information for you. In El Calafate, Buenos Aires and Iguazu (all our Argentinian stops) they'll just give you a load of bullshit, hope they've managed to blag it and let you deal with the consequences. We got this everywhere, from people on the street to tour operators and even staff in 5* hotels. The mistake we made was going to Argentina with high expectations and thinking it was the country in South America best equipped with Western-style capabilities, but that's just an image created by the Argentinians themselves who are very arrogant and consider themselves to be much better than the continent's other nations yet actually have no basis for this arrogance. So their country looks a bit more like Spain than Peru does - why is that a big deal? Don't get me wrong, we did meet a handful of really lovely people but even they had an attitude towards their neighbours - especially the Brazilians - that was bordering on offensive racism (not that there's any other kind of racism but you get what I mean!)

Ok, so rant over, you'll be pleased to hear! Now I can get back to normal and talk about the good times. Buenos Aires is known for being a nocturnal city and this was lucky for us because, despite our days being rubbish, our nights here were a lot of fun. On Christmas Eve we went to 'La Viruta', a lively 'milonga' joint where locals go to Tango. 'La Viruta' means 'sawdust' and refers to the effect the dance has on the floorboards. Similar to Bhangra's "chak de phatte" I guess (tear up the floorboards.) We were hoping to learn a few moves and have a laugh trying to dance with people but Tango is an extremely serious business in Argentina. The people in La Viruta were brilliant dancers and were concentrating very hard so we thought it best to simply sit back and watch instead. It was a great thing to see but by golly, it's a difficult dance!

We went one night to a Tango class which was great fun. Less so when the teacher decided I would be a good demonstration partner for her but it would've been worse if she'd made me be the man, especially as I stopped scratching my crotch many years ago. After the class we watched a professional show and the dancers were incredible. It might be serious, it might be hard, but when it's done right it's very sexy and mesmerising. We talked about Tango with some locals and they said it's not common for the average person to know any because of its difficulty. "It's the same as going to Japan and expecting everyone to be good at Karate," they said. You can go to clubs or the streets of San Telmo and see a lot of people dancing but they're generally shaking rhythmically to the style and beats of salsa or samba - you can tell the difference because they smile and have fun and anybody can join in whereas Tango is all about the closed eyes and tortured expressions.




We were expecting good wine and beef in Argentina. We certainly got that but we weren't quite expecting the quantities of both that they like to throw down your gullet! We went to quite a few barbecue joints where whole cows were hacked into pieces and thrown on the sizzling grill right in front of us. The people really know how to cook a steak well here! Not only steak but just about every part of the animal possible - tongue, intestines, balls. There's a saying that refers to following the cow from nose to tail: how very apt! At these places, where you're encouraged to eat your body weight in meat, we were told wine is included. Going by London standards we obviously thought this meant a glass each but no, in Argentina they generally always give you an entire bottle per person! And good wine, too. Imran was loving it, having avoided beef for two months in order to save himself for Argentina and boy, did he pig out.. but he's still getting slimmer by the day. (I am hating this! I don't want to be bigger than my man but he's like a metabolic machine!!) All those people who said that I'd start liking/eating red meat after being in Buenos Aires, it is my pleasure to tell you that I couldn't be arsed to try any and when I did (one time, a tiny piece from a steak that Imran claimed was the best he'd ever eaten) I still didn't understand what the fuss was about. All it did was confirm that yes, I have lost all interest in meat (apart from fish) and will be turning full-time veggie back home. Our mothers are not going to be best pleased with me!




During our travels, we've bumped randomly into a nice couple from Buenos Aires several times. The first few times were funny but after the fifth time (and in the most unlikely of places) we decided the universe was sending us a message and exchanged contact details. So when we got to BA we all met up in Puerto Madero, the Argentinian version of Canary Wharf, for one of these barbecue dinners with an abundance of wine. It's amazing how well four bottles of red can dissolve any language barriers! As long as I steered the conversation away from Brazilian people, we had a great night and they restored some of my faith in the Argentinians. So THAT was the message the universe was trying to send me!

Due to our trouble with customs we unfortunately had to cancel a tour we'd booked to a Gaucho ranch, where we would've ridden horses and eaten food cooked by the cowboys on an open fire. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be. We did manage a trip out to Tigre though, a pretty river delta popular with weekend visitors and rich folk with riverfront summer houses. A relaxing boat ride in the sunshine on Christmas Day was definitely welcome after the late night on Christmas Eve (the far bigger celebration here.) 




Back in Buenos Aires, we couldn't go to a football match at the famous Boca Juniors stadium as there were no games on but the La Boca area was worth a visit anyway for its colourful character, Italian influence and charismatic community. The kids from this area bound into the Metro carriages playing music, dancing, juggling and somersaulting and then leave just as quickly, taking their whirlwind of energy and pierced lips with them. We also visited the Recoleta cemetery near our hotel. It might sound like a cemetery is an odd place to visit but this one is a massive tourist attraction due to the rich, famous and powerful people wanting as much luxury in death as they did in life. Coffins - often of many family members and generations - are housed in large ornate buildings with statues, carvings and marble walls for decoration. It's a miniature city - literally the city of the dead. Eva Peron (or Evita) is buried here and only her 'house' ever has flowers in front of it thanks to the visiting fans. At first we couldn't find the entrance. "How do you get into this cemetary?" Imran asked me. "You have to be dead," I replied. He did NOT appreciate my joke.




Our time in Buenos Aires was both good and bad, fun and frustrating, relaxing and stressful. It's our least favourite city that we've been to but it's difficult to tell how much of that is due to our negative experiences. We think that it may still have been our least favourite had everything been hunky dory but we would've said so a bit more grudgingly. There's a lot of ponce here but without the base quality required to back it up. It IS a nice city but it's not beautiful or anything special by any stretch of the imagination, especially with the excess of dog poo on the streets. There certainly is an attitude of arrogance but many of us in Europe have that so why can't the Argentinians?

I revoke my earlier statements about the people and I think a far more accurate generalisation would be: when they're horrible, they're a pain in the arse but when they're nice they're amazing. The men kiss each other on the cheek in greeting more than they kiss women and it was very funny to see Imran's initial surprise when it first happened to him, but once he was told it was traditional in their culture, he willingly threw his cheek forward for every man who said hi. He's going to kill me for saying that but it cracked me up every time! And we met a great guy who embraced our culture as much in return. "Where are you from, my man?" he asked. When Imran said London he replied: "Oh yeah, my man, I speak the London language.. INNIT!" We never imagined in our wildest dreams we'd hear that word in South America. But then, Argentina was just full of surprises.. innit?

After Buenos Aires we spent a couple of days in Iguazu National Park to see the Iguazu Falls, one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. They are absolutely breathtaking. As well as the main falls there are lots of little random waterfalls surrounded by jungle, with monkeys, funky birds and beautifully coloured and patterned butterflies everywhere. The falls start at the chasm called 'Devil's Throat' where the water collects in a rough whirlpool which then charges off the edge and down 82m. We took a boat ride at the bottom and were taken directly under the falls - the power of the water is phenomenal. You just see a mass of white froth coming towards you until you can see nothing else and then it's like a thousand people are pouring buckets of water over your head all at once. We totally underestimated how close the boat would take us and how wet we'd actually get, so it was a very bad time to be wearing a white t-shirt. There's just no need for the world to see me looking like a high-school tart in a wet t-shirt contest, no matter how proud I may be of my assets hahaha!




But what better way to get ourselves ready for Brazil? Although grateful for the good times and wonderful sights in Argentina, we weren't sad to be leaving and were excitedly looking forward to going to the land of thongs and bare naked bums. That's one blog post I just know is going to be nothing but positive. Rio De Janeiro, here we come, baby!