27th-29th August: Visiting the ruins of Jesuit missions in Argentina and Paraguay

From Puerto Iguazu, we took the bus 4 hrs to San Ignacio, a fairly nondescript town that has grown up around the ruins of a Jesuit mission called San Ignacio Mini.  The bus dropped us off on a dusty road, and the transition from aircon to the 30 degree heat was abrupt to say the least.  At the bus stop we managed to find someone willing to look after our bags for a few pesos, since we were only stopping off on the way to Posadas and didn´t fancy lugging our bags around all afternoon. They were locked in an out-of-order disabled loo, naturally.

We walked for fifteen minutes to reach the mission ruins (during which time I applied suncream approximately seven times while Clem rolled her eyes).  We then discovered we were short of change.  Entrance was 100 pesos, and we had exactly 102.  That didn´t leave enough to get the bus on to Posadas.  We were directed to an ATM, another sweaty 15 minutes away.  Arrived; out of order.  This was definitely a one-ATM-town, so this posed something of a problem.  Salvation was at hand, thankfully, in the shape of a rather out of place casino.  My plan was to get some chips on the card, play for a little while, then cash in my huge winnings for pesos.  This suggestion was rejected, and much less interestingly we swapped some dollar notes for pesos.  The Jesuits would have been so proud.

The ruins themselves were impressive in a there´s-not-much-left kind of way, but the history of the missions is interesting.  Very much the exception to the dysfunctional relationship between the native tribes of the Americas and the colonial powers (dysfunctional from the native perspective, at least), the Jesuits and the Guarani got along very well.  The Jesuits spent time learning the Guarani language and culture before starting the missions, and they didn´t force the Guarani to abandon their culture.  There was a reasonably balanced interchange of culture - so long as the Guarani came to church and ditched the (very occasional) cannibalism - and the Guarani were protected from the Portuguese slavers.  This ended in the late 18th century, when the Jesuits were expelled from Portuguese and Spanish lands, and the missions were abandoned (the Franciscans, who replaced the Jesuits, had different teaching methods that did not suit the Guarani). They were subsequently destroyed in wars between Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay in the following century.

We then caught the bus into Posadas, dumped our bags (rescued intact from the loo) at the hostel, and after a quick wander around town collapsed in bed.

The following day, Sunday, we took the bus into Paraguay to see the ruins of another Jesuit mission.  More interesting than the ruins was a little glimpse of Paraguay, which on a small sample seemed significantly less developed than either Brazil or Argentina.  More money troubles, as we had not taken out enough Paraguayan currency at the border, but we managed to get back to Argentina without resorting to hitchhiking.

Now it´s Monday, and we´re off to catch the bus to Salta, 18 hours away.

23rd-26th August: Iguazu falls

Tchau Brasil y Hola Argentina !

We are several days behind in our blog entries, but here is a quick update on our whereabouts.  We arrived on Wednesday in Foz do Iguaçu after a crazy 15-hour bus ride from Paraty.  After dropping our bags in our pousada, we went to the Parque Nacional do Iguaçu (Brazilian side) to see the Cataratas (or waterfalls). We were very lucky with the weather as the sun was out.  The falls were spectacular, on a far grander scale than Niagara (with apologies to John´s Canadian relatives).  Words can´t really convey how impressive the falls are; we´ll try to get some photos up soon, but this video gives some idea.

The next day we went to Itaipu Dam, advertised as one of the 7 modern wonders of the world. The visit started with a film about the construction of the dam, although only the positive aspects were described and there was no mention of its potential negative ecological impact. The visit is well organised, tourists are put on a bus and there are two stops to take pictures of the dam before the bus drives along the lower and upper parts of the dam.  The ride over the higher part was mildly uncomfortable from the bus rooftop but it was a great view over the dam and the reservoir. As the water is high at the moment, there was also an impressive spillover cascade (greater volume than all of Igauzu falls, apparently).

We arrived today on the Argentine side (Puerto Iguazu) after some fairly simple formalities. We made it to the Argentine side of the falls by early afternoon and enjoyed some great hikes along the falls (en los paseos inferior y superior).  Once again, we were very lucky with the weather and enjoyed some impressive rainbows.  We were also greeted by some monkeys and coatis, seemingly cute little animals that reportedly get very feisty around food.  Unfortunately, we were not able to go to the full length of the Garganta del Diablo (Devil´s throat), we were stopped 20m before the end of the trail, for security reasons apparently. The water is high at the moment, which may explain this measure.  From what I understood, there were no barriers on the side at the end of the pathway...  Anyhow, the trails of the paseos inferior y superior offered some great sights, and the high water meant the waterfalls were even more powerful than usual. In the evening, for a good kick-off to our stay in Argentina, we had our first empanadas, which were excellent.

Tomorrow we are heading to San Ignacio and later to Posadas to visit the ruins of some Jesuit missions, arriving in Salta early next week.

21st-22nd: Paraty

19th-20th: Last days in Rio

18th August: Hanggliding over Rio

The day started early with a stroll up and down Copacabana (I was only the second palest guy on the beach, for the record, although Clem noted that I was probably the least muscle-bound).  After breakfast, we walked down from Copacabana to Ipanema, paddling in the impressively warm water.  We went as far as post 9, allegedly the hang-out for the beautiful people (not sure whether this is enforced; at least no one evicted us during the five minutes we spent there).

After a sandwich in the park, fending off an army of hostile pigeons, it was time for hanggliding (my birthday present from Clem -- thank you).  I had called earlier in the morning, but the wind was dangerously strong.  After lunch, apparently, the wind had changed and conditions were perfect.  Still felt pretty blustery to me.  Anyway, we caught a taxi over to the landing area (the driver understood what I meant by stretching out my arms and making hanggliding sounds, apparently, after my attempted pronunciation of the name of the beach proved incomprehensible).  There we were met by my co-pilot, Rui Marra.  I was mainly attracted by the name of the agency, Superfly, but it turns out Rui is a bit of a legend (we found this out online, he was very modest).  Brazilian hanggliding champ several times over, this is only his hobby; his main job is psychology, studying fear and stress management (spot the connection?).  He also takes kids from the favelas up flying to help them deal with their traumatic backgrounds.

I was pretty relaxed for the most part, but there were three moments when I felt somewhat less than chilled.  First, when looking up from the beach at the rocky outcrop 800 metres up from which that I was about to jump (before I learnt that you keep running, as jumping slows you down).

[first experimentation with photos, more coming]
Second, when we got to the top of the mountain and I made the mistake of peering over the edge (as Clem laughed at me).  And third, as I was being strapped up to the hangglider and it became apparent that we weren´t doing any more practice takeoffs but were actually about to run off into midair.  By then everything is happening too quickly to flip out and I´m running at the edge, running off the edge, airborne, hit by a sudden surge of panic. But for only a second, then it´s just exhilaration, marvelling at the view and how smooth and surprisingly relaxing it feels to be flying 800 metres over Rio.

As we flew, Rui positioned the hangglider so I could pout at the camera with the spectacular scenery in the background (first Christ Redeemer, then Sugar Loaf).  We flew out to sea, then turned back into the beach.  At this point Rui said, "I´m going to release your legs, don´t worry."  He did, I worried.  Just hanging by my shoulders suddenly felt a lot less secure.  Then we pick up speed as we swoop into the beach, and Rui lifts the hangglider as we´re within touching distance and I´m supposed to start walking but somehow end up just flopping in the sand, with my dignity tangled up in the hangglider´s struts.  Thankfully Clem hasn´t yet made it down from the top to laugh at me, but she will do once she sees the video.  Obviously I decided to shell out the extra to get the photos and video, although while I was captivated watching myself on camera my legs were being savaged by a horde of sandflies.  The recovery of the 20 chunks taken out of my flesh was an ongoing saga, my over-reaction to which amused Clem greatly.  10 days later and I seem to be alive, with the bites finally faded.

We finished up the afternoon walking back up Ipanema, then taking the cab north to where we´re staying for our last three days in Rio, near Lapa.  After finding out that "kitchen access" doesn´t actually include cooking, we went out for dinner.  We happened to bump into a few people (a couple of Canadians, and a Brazilian guy who had studied with them in Ottawa) whom we had just met in the reception of our previous hostel, and accepted their kind invitation to join them for dinner. Also with them was the Brazilian guy´s aunt, a lawyer who was born in the favelas and gave us a fascinating lesson (translated by her nephew) on the city, how the favelas were being pacified (although there were hundreds that were still dangerous), and why some people were even moving back into the "pacified communities", attracted by cheap prices, free (stolen) electricity, and amazing views from the hills.

16th-17th August : UPCOMING

14th-15th August: Vol JJ 4743 pour Rio de Janeiro

We had a final stroll around the city on our last day.  Luckily we arrived in time to enter the Cathedral, as another group had just knocked on the door; not sure we would have thought about it. It was beautiful, the interior was in stone and only the details inside the chapels were in gold, which made it really imposing (et plus propice au recueillement selon moi que l'Eglise Saint-François).

We arrived at the airport quite early and tried to get some sleep before our 4 a.m. flight to Rio.  The seats were not at all comfy, so John just slept on the floor.  Classy.  Not the best schedule, but in John's defense it did save us a day compared to the bus. 

The bus ride to the center of Rio was very interesting.  We then understood the guidebook's comments about crazy drivers.  I managed to fall asleep after the passage on the elevated highway was over (high speed on the turns of an elevated highway gives some adrenaline).  Thankfully, because we were apparently close to hitting another bus... Bus drivers were not the only crazy ones on the road, taxis were not bad either, so to the extent possible we opted for the metro (it was also a good way to avoid traffic).

Unfortunately, our room at the hostel was not ready yet so we occupied the sofas and had a good two-hour sleep.  Feeling slightly refreshed, we had a nice walk on Copacabana beach and came back to our hostel in Santa Teresa for a nap at about 6pm, which ended up lasting about 14 hours.  

The next day, we went on a really interesting citytour. Sugar Loaf or Pao de Açucár was the first stop. It is about 400m high and as you can see from the picture, there is a quite a scenic telepheric to get there.  We enjoyed the view, and in particular watching planes turning in the bay and landing at the domestic airport.  We also went to the Corcovado, on which the Christ the Redeemer statue stands.  The view was stunning (as was the number of photos we took). We also saw the Maracana stadium and the venue where the Carnaval competition takes place.  We resisted the temptation to try on the carnaval costumes so there won't be silly pics.  

We had a quick stroll back to our new hostel near Copacabana (as the other hostel had only one night of availability), picked up some pasta to cook at the hostel's kitchen (starting to be a bit more budget-conscious), and collapsed into bed at about 10.

10th-13th August: From the beauty of Maceio to the vibes of Salvador

On Wednesday we were charmed by the quiet beauty of Maceió's beach - light blue sea with nice warm sand and palm trees along the walkway.  Our pousada was luckily just one block away.  Slightly less impressive were the burgers we had at  Don Buerger.  Despite its promising name and the recommendation of the lonely planet, it was not even close to Cool Bun (Pierre´s restaurant in Brussels).

The following day, we visited a school (or Education Center) for children of the nearby favelas, created by Yves and Wanda (two friends of my aunt and uncle) 20 years ago, when they were already around 60 years old. We were touched by the care given to these children. Their aim is primarily to provide them with a good education, but they are also well fed and supported by a nurse (children are sent to the hospital when necessary), a psychologist, and a social worker.  The studies are organised by une directrice des etudes.  Their goal is to send some kids to university and others to specialised schools where they can learn a job.  This year, they managed to send two of their students to university.  Unfortunately, a few of their children dropped out of school, attracted by the money they could make as drug dealers.  A nice touch is that each birthday is celebrated, which is a great change as some used to not know their birthdates or would not anyway celebrate their birthday.  You used to have to pay to register a newborn so many of them did not have a birth certificate.  

We then caught a 10 hour night bus to Salvador, arriving at 4 am on Friday.  No spills this time but a few thrills: a snoring neighbour, a phone playing Total Eclipse of the Heart several times over on full volume, turbo air-con, and bright lights that would wake us abruptly every time the bus stopped. We arrived very fresh around 4 am at the bus station and caught a bus towards the historic centre of Salvador, the Pelourinho.

We were unlucky with the first hostel as they only told us that it was closed once we had reached the top of the seven-floor staircase, not much fun with our rucksacks... We stumbled to the nearest pousada, a few blocks away, dropped our bags and began our visit of the Pelourinho, to the rhythm of the drums (in particular of the school Olodum) and of Capoiera dancers.

We hired a guide for a city tour, who took us to places we probably would not have gone on our own (cowards that we are) as the lonely planet warns that if you're going to be pickpocketed or mugged in Brazil, Salvador is likely to be the place.  We enjoyed a great view of the bay from the Santo Antonio fort and I had lots of fun in the Elevador Lacerda (although I was mildly reassured by the OTIS brand on the elevator).  The baroque church of San Francis has a beautiful collection of azulejos, and the interior decoration in gold is quite impressive, but slightly overwhelming.

The Pelourinho has a lot of charming coloured little houses and is fairly tourist friendly. We couldn´t decide whether the armed police everywhere are worrying or reassuring. The lower city (or what we saw of it), however, is more decayed, although apparently the city has started a redevelopment project.

We also paid tribute to Michael Jackson, who filmed part of its video They don't care about us in the Pelourinho.  The guy whose shop MJ emerged from very proudly showed us the video, pausing at the appropriate times of course.

Probably the best part of the trip to Salvador so far was the Bale Folclorico da Bahia, a spectacular mix of percussion, singing, and dance (and fire-eating!) that left even the rhythmically-challenged John impressed.

One more day in Salvador, then on to Rio.

8th-9th August: Thrills and Spills in Transit

An inauspicious start.  Not 30 mins from Heathrow and I´ve spilled a full Grolsch in my lap.  Clem finds this  highly amusing until she realises that I´m going to smell of stale beer for the next 24 hours and she has no escape.  16 hours later, and a theme is established.  Flying from Miami to Recife, an AA air hostess knocks a cup of red wine into my lap, and is subsequently astonished when dousing it with a club soda chaser does not remove the stain.

Further amusement when we realise that our flight from Miami to Recife takes a detour down to Salvador, the main reason we´re going to Recife in the first place.  No chance of letting us off where we actually want to go (although in retrospect we would have missed a great trip to Maceio), so it´s back up north for us.

Recife is huge, much larger than I had imagined, vast favelas stretching off into the distance as we approach by plane.  We´re not actually staying in Recife, forewarned that it´s not the most attractive city in Brazil, so we find a bus to Olinda.  The turnstile in the middle of the bus is mildly surprising, an entertaining obstacle for tired travellers with large rucksacks.  Ever the gentleman, I let Clem go first, and give her a less-than-gentlemanly shove from behind when she gets stuck (or rather her backpack, I should probably clarify).  I glide through gracefully, of course.

Olinda was once beautiful.  It is now sadly delapidated, but remains charming.  Lots of attractive and colourful old houses and churches, but mostly lapsed into disrepair.  Apparently it is rammed for carnaval, but at the moment it´s fairly dead.  After lunch and a wander round town, it´s a very early night and a long sleep.  Off to Maceio in the morning.