and finally, Cusco to London

On my last day in Cusco, having said goodbye to Kerri the day before as she was off to Arequipa with Jake and Sonia, I felt ready. Ready, but at the same time really not ready at all and left everything to the last minute as I had no 'Directional Dennis' by my side to organize and supervise the departure although she had advised me on how to get to Lima and how early to be at the airport and bus terminal etc. but Bryn's supporting 'you ain't getting home' when I was trying to  work out which terminal my flight was from was motivation to prove him wrong.

So Bryn, Pete and I went out for a final lunch at the restaurant we had frequented every day  in Cusco, a place called 'Jack's' and had a leisurely walk back, catching a few final 'llama lols' and getting the same massage offers by the same women standing outside the same shops we'd had all week. I paid my hostel tab, which was 700 pesos, which probably worked out at 30% accommodation and 70% baby Guinesses (would you say one baby Guiness and two baby 'Guini'?) packed-up the bag for the penultimate time, happily leaving the lotita trainers which I bought in Salta, in the locker.

Saying goodbye to Kerri was really strange. It didn't feel right and didn't feel real. It was emotional but I experienced a delayed reaction and it didn't hit me until I was on my way to Lima. As the bus journey was 22 hours long and I was going alone, I decided to go with the best company, Cruz del Sur, and wasn't dissapointed. We had personal movie screens, power sockets, pillows, blankets, Wifi and a really comfortable seat. I say 'we', I was actually alone and  it was like a break-up! having spent all day everyday with someone for the last 4 months and then suddenly they were gone! I watched 'The perks of being a wallflower' (the film in which Hermione from Harry Potter has cut all her hair off and lost the wand) and it set me off crying like a baby but I had to hide it from the other passengers because I didn't want anyone to ask if I was ok, in Spanish, and have to be all like 'yeah, sob' and them put a hand on my shoulder and then spend the next 20 hours embarrassed. No, I preferred to hold the free blanket up to shield the side of my face while the other side cried out the window at the absolutely breathtaking epic-but-shit-scary scenery. We were driving along a very narrow road, cut out the side of the mountain with a sheer drop onto rocks and jungle below and so high up that the clouds were sweating on us.The Wifi miraculously worked so Kendrick and I were in contact.

They fed us coach food, which although was shit, was long awaited and gladly received as I was starving because I didn't eat anything before the journey (poor organization) and had only brought a mere TWO APPLES, thinking they would be enough for 22 hours, unprepared to be burning loads of energy squirting out tears. So when we stopped who knows where at a random service station, I bought some comforting homely chocolate milk and chocolate raisins :)

In Bolivia I bought a load of souvenirs for family and friends and so my bag was heavy as fuck again.When we finally docked in Lima at the coach station I was a tired, grumpy, hungry, dirty weakling and also very wary of robbers and false taxis, as I had heard stories about Lima and upon meeting my good friend Liam's Peruvian housemate a couple of years ago, had been told not to arrive in Lima without a native or else I would be severely ripped off. Shit the bed.

So I eyed up the taxi rank with contempt and suspicion and showed them my scrappy handwritten address whilst trying to fake a confident, 'don't-fuck-with-me' demeanor. The taxi man nodded and led me to an unmarked car. AN UNMARKED CAR. What could I say? 'excuse me, is this actually a taxi? or are you going to kidnap me?' not really. I got in and there was also no seatbelt and I had no idea how much money it would cost or how long it was going to take as I didn't do my research - Ken would have had all this copied out of the guidebook, so just hoped for the best and was kindly dropped off safely at my hostel, what seemed like an eternity later (probably 10 minutes). Upon arrival at the very nice hostel where I had booked myself a private double room because I deserved it because I was a precious princess that had been through hell (first world problems) I had to wait 2 hours until my room was ready. When you can do durations like 22 and 28 hour journeys, an extra 2 hours is nothing.

I had the BEST shower ever and collapsed on my amazing double bed, in my private room, alone. I had visions of making the most of the day and checking out the nearby beach, possibly even going surfing, followed by getting a massage and a haircut close by. Oh we can dream. In reality I couldn't be fucked to get off the bed until about 5pm when hunger had got the better of me. I went out and found a Sushi restaurant. 'Ermm una mesaaa para uno por favor' and enjoyed some amazing sushi and a Pisco sour, which got me extremely drunk for just one drink, causing me to develop 'the fear' and return immediately to the safety of my hotel room.

In the morning, I ventured into the nearby shopping area to seek cheap beauty treatments, in the hope of returning home a glowing, radiant, relaxed travelled beautiful singing mermaid, not the bitten, burnt, dishevelled, tired alternative. I managed to get myself a very interesting massage and some new eyebrows as a result of my still-lacking Spanish haha! I had a quick wander down to the beach which had some surfers in the water and some of the sand looked black from the distance I was at - but still spectacular. I instantly resolved to tell Kerri of this place for her impending visit to Lima. Maybe she could give surfing another go...

Freshly plucked and relaxed, the fat guy who had been hanging around reception turned out to be my transfer driver and we set off into the rush hour traffic to the airport. Stuck at lights, a street urchin emerged at the window of the car in front of us selling ice creams and water and then to our car, where my driver snapped up an ice lolly. He offered me a lick, to which I kindly refused, and we made it to the airport on time with the power of the ice-cold refreshment behind the wheel.

Lima has only one terminal so I was really chill about the whole departure gates thing and casually cruised over to the correct area. It was only after mooching in the shops for ages when I realised that it was the time the clerk had told me to be at my gate and I still hadn't even seen customs. Customs took AGES! Beads of sweat fell from my furrowed brow as the anticipation of missing the flight heightened. Hand luggage scan done, I went to passport control. She checked my passport and then instructed me to join the other queue at the other kiosk. Worried, I went over and she inspected my passport for ages. I've fucked it, I've only bloody gone and not got my entry stamp done properly I was thinking but after what seemed like forever in an instant, I was through, on the plane and En route to London.

Aboard the tiny plane in a window seat sat next to an Italian couple I was a Tarantula in an eggcup. All my limbs were too big and didn't fit in any comfortable way. TEST. Every time the plane rattled a bit, the woman from the Italian couple would flinch and make a scared whine and cuddle her boyfriend. PUSSSSSIO!

I stuck on 'GRAVITY', a movie about a spacecraft that fucks up and smashes to pieces in space where loads of people die and others get stranded in space. Highly insensitive of me but amusing to say the least. Just doing her a favour anyway, SHE NEEDS TO FACE HER FEAR!

12 hours later, we landed in Paris and it was cold and there were police and it was Euros and I was able to construct my tired face into the face of Chanel thanks to the delicious departure lounge and emerged smelling exquisite with bagfuls of duty free.

The one hour flight to London went super fast and I simply drank wine, like a chic Parisiene/Proper English bird/Travelling wastegirl, and wondered what England would be saying, who would be at the airport awaiting my return? I pictured old friends, holding signs, family, the boy I had been talking to everyday....

...and OH what a stark reality. Heathrow terminal 5 arrivals was a sea of dark-clothed, sour-faced impatient-looking people, face after face remained unrecognisable. There was nobody there for me. England took my fairy-tale adventure, screwed it up into a ball and threw it at my face whilst saying 'Get real kid'. It's funny how the return to London matched the initial departure to New York - unexpected, emotional and very unsettling....

...and to be unsettled is to be open to adventure :)

Brazil - you have my heart
California - you have my soul

Machu Picchu

I apologize (to who?) for the lateness of this last post. I am now at home and everything is crazy (it's crazy, guys)

So we decided once in Cusco to crack on with booking our Machu Picchu tour as we know it may sell out and we wouldn't want to be caught short of the ultimate landmark in the whole continent. The "jewel" of South America. And a jewel it was, a bloody diamond by the price of it! Yes, an 'arm and a leg' later we were booked on a tour next day and were to be picked up at 4am. Passports, water and snacks, but not too many as they may get taken off us on entry.

Then we were given a t-shirt, now this is tragic - it's not like we are mad souvenir t-shirt collectors but one claiming that we had actually been there and seen this amazing landmark, a receipt, if you like, was given to us along with our ticket. We saw it and thought 'great, yeah, ladies fit, good colour, black, yep, there's the picture of MP...' and then bang, right accross the front in red lettering,

"I WOZ THERE"

Kill me now. Straight in the bin. Fuck sake. Why go to the effort to spell it like that?!

So we got picked up at 4am, our eyes  bleeding from tiredness. Of course, Organized Dennis was ready by the door at 3.45am. 

I donned my Lotitas, the trusty (but gay as fuck) hi top trainers I bought from Argentina, for one last cultural outing (sensible footwear was recommended) and we set off.

We sat in the front of a minivan and drove through the empty streets of Cusco, the driver pointing out nightclubs emptying the local wronguns heading to the Peruvian version of KFC, a woman on the corner selling chicken on a stick with a potato on the end and as we got out of town we started falling asleep. It was only when the music suddenly changed from soothing Peruvian folk music to Bangarang by Skrillex that we appreciated just how surreal the situation was panning out to be and at the same time how diverse the driver's music taste was, the dark 'orse. But there's nothing like a bit of commercial dub step at 4.30am on a Peruvian back street driving deep into the pitch-black, winding mountainous roads, with a van full of sleeping Asians to get you in the mood for a day out, is there?!

We arrived at the train station at 5.30am in time for the nicest train in the world with ceiling windows and the best bathrooms to chug us on our way. We were seated and, shortly after, the Peruvian David Walliams pranced down the carriage with coffee and treats for all. We slurped the coffee and tried to force-feed ourselves the massive bag of dried fruit and nuts we had bought from the market because we knew food was going to be expensive and we had that parent mentality of "we had better eat these because we've paid for them" in our heads. Sigh. I never want to actually be that person.

 

100 Brazil nuts later, the train docked and an army of Japanese grandparents got to their feet, grabbed their hiking sticks and diaembarked to do the inka trail. They must have had an octopus each for breakfast and had less wrinkles than Kerri and me combined. 

A character from mortal kombat collected us to get our Machu Picchu ticket and transferred us into safe hands with mr "don't worry be happy", our tour guide. Yes that was his genuine advice when we expressed our concerns over some of the slightly less courteous members of the public. 

We had to queue to get on a bus and there was a gaggle of Israelis (still don't know the collective term) and they were acting like naughty foreign kids (our activity leader mode had been activated as they were not waiting in a single file line as they had been instructed to do so). A vein popped in our necks and we told them to WAIT NICELY. 

Again we were actually in the clouds. It's like someone's just put a stick up, with a hook on the end (a bit like a shepards hook or one you use to open a loft) and has pulled the clouds down really low.  Fear of heights officially eradicated, thank you very much.

Noble city of 400 people. 'Nuff history.

So we took loads of photos and then looked at some llamas and laughed then a woman was standing behind me and going "oh wow" and Kerri was laughing so I asked (in a slightly mocking tone) "What are you wowing at?", and she replied "there's a Llama charging down the  road behind you" so I moved, fast.

The tour was done by 10.45am giving us 8 hours til our train. It was raining hard so we decided a quick dash to the bus back would be a good option because the forecast was torrential rain, the road up was worse than the death road in terms of sheer drops, and there were lots of landslides and lots of tourists who would be wanting to go the same way. On the bus I curled up next to a Japanese grandma and was tired enough to have a quick dream about a boy with a bible asking me what to do. 

We got to the little town, Aguas Calientes, and had time (did I mention 8 hours) to have Trout ceviche with free pisco sours and then went into a reggae shack which had a full size snooker table with not enough balls for the home-made triangle, no real floor but ironically had rugs and carpets hanging on the wall for sale. Then the owner went out for a spiff then came in and cronked up the volume of the tunes which included "don't worry be happy". Haha! Explains everything. 

We finally got our train back which seemed to take forever, and at this point we were super super ruined after being up since 3.30am! Yeah another poorly organized tour (cheap tho!) and on the bus ride back, It was my turn to have a Chinese woman asleep on my shoulder in the van. I wonder if she had a dream. 

Copacabana to Cusco

From Copacabana we boarded a coach along with two other people, a gift of the gab (blatantly gay) guy from Essex with his Korean wife who does musical theatre in Korea. A funny couple. So the four of us, on the otherwise empty bus, headed towards the Peruvian border. The border crossing was easy again and within a few minutes of entering Peru we noticed the scenery was such a lush green colour. There were many different greens. Pine, mint, avocado you name it - a B&Q paint strip collectors heaven! As well as a truck containing a load of dead sheep strapped to the top in a pile.

We stopped in Puno to change buses and where our new friends told us they were scared of travelling after being held up and robbed at knife point in Buenos Aires. We told them not to be scared.

Our bus from Puno slowly made it's way in the rain through run down areas with half-finished abandoned building constructions. Then the bus stopped, a man ran into a garage, returned with a tyre and began changing a wheel just as the rain turned into a thunderstorm. Kerri's face was a picture, she hates storms and was already sketched out from the general nature of the bus.

Then three women got on the bus with their bright fabric bundles, came upstairs, unwrapped the bundle at the top of the stairwell to reveal brown paper and inside that the bloody carcass of an animal. She produced a meat cleaver and began hacking it to bits with theatrical butchering movements. At this, nobody really batted an eyelid, expect me who was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the spectacle in disbelief and amazement.

She threw the bits into bags and added a potato or two and sold them to passengers, giving them a bit of toilet roll for their sticky fingers.

If you didn't fancy that, you could buy a WHEEL of cheese.

When the brightly coloured butchers had got off, the slightly hills-have-eyes man who loads the luggage into the bus came round to check our tickets. He had a piece of toilet roll stuffed up one nostril. When the tickets had been checked he stood at the top of the stairs and sang a song which had about four different words and then came round collecting money for his performance. We gave him some soles because he had stopped singing.

Then we looked behind us and there was a man who had a bag of animal horns so Ken got it into her head that he was going to murder us with the horns.

We finally got to Cusco about 10.30pm and by this point Ken was feeling really I'll and just wanted a nice quiet hostel so we checked into the Wild Rover, notorious Irish party hostel.

Kerri went to bed and I went to the bar to get a glass of milk as we had had no dinner, saw the boys at the bar wearing about 6 different hats between the two of them because it was Monday night crazy hat party, of course, and had a baby Guinness or ten instead. 

 

Isla del sol

From La Paz we took an organized transfer from our hostel at 7.30am (because hijackings are notorious on that stretch of road if you do it at night) on a bus which seemed to be continuously beeping it's horn and driving on the wrong side of the road. We arrived at Lake Titicaca three hours later and our bus had to get into a big rowing boat and cross separately to us. It was still carnival going on and there were people dancing in the streets in mad orange, silver and blue costumes with full face masks. There were stray dogs and cows, donkeys and sheep grazing at the side of the high mountain road on the way to Copacabana and the scenery was endless green.

We got to Copacabana and tried to get some food. We walked out of the first cafe because they told Kerri she couldn't stay seated in there if she wasn't eating (the guy was English, typical).

We walked out of the second place because the waiter came to apologise for  the long wait due to it being carnival, everyone being drunk and no one being at work. (Bolivian carnaval has lasted way longer than scheduled!)

We took the boat, starving, to Isla del Sol for one and a half hours. Kerri was sat by the window so she boiled alive in the sun while I fell asleep next to another Viking type guy (only Viking by sound, not appearance like Hercules)

When we arrived we had to climb about 5 sets of Inca steps (which are huge) up to the nearest hostel, at altitude, with a 30kg backpack on. We were greeted by a cross-faced four year old girl, a fat toothless Bolivian hat balancer and a donkey who said there was room at the inn. Thank Jeff for that because the other hostels were about 18 sets of inca steps up, at least.

The BHB fed us trout from the lake while the four year old asked for some of our coca cola and told me the bumble bee in the window was dead. I gave her my sun glasses to wear and she helped herself to more coke until the BHB came in and told her off for being rude. Then we played catch with a balloon. It's easy to talk to Spanish-speaking kids because our level is pretty similar! Then she wanted to play catch with a mirror and introduced the game by running in with a mirror and throwing it on the floor which we took as our queue to leave.

The island was so quiet, we loved the contrast after the craziness of La Paz. We climbed right to the top (3800 meters altitude) and spoke to some donkeys, pigs, llamas and more beautiful dogs. So serene. It was hard to keep remembering it was a lake because of it's  vastness. It was so good to be near water again.

We went to bed at 8.30pm. Yes, La Paz was that harsh.

The next morning we woke up to an incredible view of the lake and a cold shower and decided to walk up to the top to get breakfast but the altitude killed us as we hadn't eaten since 4pm the day before and, dunno if i mentioned it but, La Paz was harsh!

We spent the day exploring the island, walked past a BHB who had a herd of llamas, donkeys, pigs and sheep all running together in mutual agreement! The llama had run ahead but the rest were tightly packed together, their heads down, a collection of different heights, colors and noises no objection, like they do it everyday. It was too funny.

We went back to the mainland and tried to go out for dinner but walked out of two more restaurants for lack of service as everyone was still partying in the main square and not at work yet. We chose a place, sat on the sofas outside and ordered from the lanky waiter who looked like he belonged in England in the early hours after a rave.

While we were waiting a dog came and sat on the sofa next to me (hiya!) and our waiter tried selling coke to passers by. 

The food was whack and we ended up running inside with it because a massive dust storm was coming up the road towards us!

We went back to our hotel and actually listened to the carnival music, which sounded like a clown laughing and a load of organs being banged at both ends. 

Ear plugs in, we went to sleep. 

La Paz

Bryn says Israelis are like rats, in that you'll never be more than 5 meters from one. True dat in SA!

So La Paz was a bit of a blur. Our hostel had a bar and at that bar you would witness things that would make the old man from Father Ted cringe.

One particular man was wearing a Hello Kittie onesie and while I was innocently trying to charge my phone over breakfast one morning, asked me in a stench of booze, what part of Australia I was from. I laughed as someone had thought I was Israeli the night before. I would be Belgian the following night. This guy had been up all night and when asked if he had been to bed, replied that he didn't know. We saw him later that day, still pissed and stinking and AGAIN the next morning looking like DEATH but still drunk. That same morning we saw people ordering shots and ciders at 9.30am. That place made us feel like nuns. 

We walked, out of breath and hungover, to San Pedro prison and sat in the square looking at it and at the queue of women waiting to get in to see their men. We noticed the policemen and Ken pointed out their really old school guns hanging from their belts and decided those guns "are the ones that really hurt". Gold.

Then we went to the witches market. It took for ever to find because the map sucked and we were hungover and out of breath and our flip flops kept coming off. It had weird dried dead baby llamas hanging up and potions for every ailment including loads of Viagra to make you "like the bull". 

We tried to visit the coca museum but it was all Spanish text and for 30bs we are not that advanced so we came out again.

The Bolivian women wear bowler hats perched on top of their head but they are slightly too small so they have no purchase on the head by being wedged on as we would wear them, no, they are BALANCED. We spent many a minute staring at them trying to fathom the secret of how they stay on (Velcro?) but came to the conclusion that it's pure skill. We call them the Bolivian hat balancers (BHBs). They probably take their advanced BHB exam at the end of May. The guys get to wear baseball caps. The women are so softly spoken and gentle and mostly have no teeth.

Walking back from the witches market we saw a clean, white jaw bone on the floor in the street. Hopefully animal!

We went to the mad opening party of a new hostel which involved shoulder rides and dancing on the bar. 

Then we cycled death road. I did it on two hours sleep because all the red bull from the godforsaken blood bombs kept me up. The bikes had suuuper sensitive breaks (we paid for the best company, no fucking about) and we received many warnings about going over the handlebars. We bombed it down, prewarned about upcoming sections of road, called stuff like "collarbone alley" because it claims so many collarbones! 

We went to a monkey sanctuary at the bottom where 150 monkeys were roaming free and had a little zoology lesson which was lovely, but Kerri's legs got eaten alive by sand flies. 

On the way back up in the minivan, our guide told us that Klaus Barbie (Hans from inglorious bastards) moved to live on death road in hiding after murdering 6 thousand in WW2. He also told us about many of the fatalities and casualties - which was nice to be told about after rather than before and we then started noticing all the crosses and memorials by the side of the road. At it's peak the road claimed 300 lives a year, averaging one a day.

In conclusion, we concluded that La paz is a shit hole but a good shit hole.

Uyuni to La Paz

The last day of the salt flats tour was the best. Driving onto the flooded dessert at 4am with the stars reflecting in it was just crazy, guys.

After we made all our mad photos crawling in and out of Pringles cans we got dropped in uyuni. When the driver announced we were here we didn't believe it because it was not a town. It was a collection of mud shacks and litter. He dumped us on the street and we tipped the driver and cook then said bye to JP after asking Donald (she doesn't have it) to add us on Facebook. He never did. Probably wasn't allowed to. One of the boys shampoo then leaked all over his bag, consequentially leaving a delightful waft everywhere he went. Swings and roundabouts.  

We had 8 hours to kill before our bus and after checking what there was to do in the guide book, which revealed a sweet fuck all, we wondered round with the boys for a bit before settling in a Mexican restaurant to get pissed. Lovely sign in the bathroom warning against cholera if you dont wash your hands. Pictures included.

When we emerged 7 hours later half cut, carnival was still in full swing outside and we had to walk straight through a square where kids were armed with water bombs, water pistols and silly string spray cans. Trying our best to be inconspicuous, the 6 of us walked in our best gringo fashion straight through them. I took a water bomb to the side of the face and Ken got a couple to the legs. We then had to wait outside for the bus (cos we got kicked out the bus station) for 40 mins while a thousand fire crackers and fireworks went off, each bang making me have to face the wall. Finally we got on the night bus at 8pm.

The woman came round giving everyone chocolate bars while Ken and I banged on our Annie Mac playlists and after a couple of plays felt sleepy but NO you cannot sleep because the road is made of boulders and you must bump up and down all the way. We started getting bumped to sleep but NO the light is back on and more locals are squeezing themselves and all their bags and kids up the stairs. Ok maybe we can sleep now it's 1am. Nope, NOW it's time to check the tickets! Now let's stop at a shop where a woman whose face is covered in glitter sells some weird cheeses and sweets. I get a bottle of orange juice and get back on the bus. 

Oh the juice has leaked all over my bag.

It's freezing. My Brazilian sarong is wrapped super tightly around my legs which only have tights on. My legs are up on the bar hanging over the stairs and shoes are off for comfort but are then back on because my tight-clad legs keep sliding off the metal bar. Legs and face have to take turns on having the warmth of the sarong because it doesn't reach everywhere. 

2am three fat local old women get on and make themselves a nest in the isle with all their blankets. I eye their blankets enviously. Then two lay down and sleep, still in the isle while the younger one hugs the stairs. 

Trying to sleep listening to Stanton warriors breakbeat/house/dnb going over bumps on seats that recline so much that you end up sliding down into where you put your feet. You are bare thirsty because of the altitude and the afternoon drinking session but daren't drink your water because there is no toilet unless you dare to go at the side of the road when the bus pulls over unannounced. 

We went past a slum at 7am, called El Alto which looked like Afghanistan. Litter blowing around dirt streets but still brightly colored Bolivian women power-housing around with their huge bundles on their backs serving hot milk at the side of the road. 

We descended down into La Paz at 8.30 absolutely fucked from the salt flats tour and no sleep on the bus where the driver released our bags from the dust cave under the bus. 

We trusted a taxi to take us to Loki and got there along with a load of Israelis. 

Salt flats day 3

Upon waking up, Ken summed up the general consensus with a concise, "Fuck altitude." Haha

Driving into vast scenery and nothingness makes you think, reflect and nurture creative ideas. Memories from long ago arise. The jeep was mainly silent for large amounts of the days as everyone pondered.

I put on "Origin of Symmetry" by Muse on my iPod and it added another dimension to the already epic experience.

We saw huge rocks shaped by the wind, had lunch on some rocks made from lava in front of another semi active volcano and drove past a big quinoa plantation near the salt flats themselves. The driver explained that the quinoa is worth so much as an export that Bolivians cannot afford to consume their own produce. The red plants are worth more than the yellow and many buyers simply turn up and demand huge quantities of it.

The previous night there had been a rumour that we wouldn't be able to see the salt flats as the drivers wanted to get back to uyuni for carnaval and were claiming they didn't have enough petrol to get us there. Luckily it was just a rumour and at the end of the third day of driving we finally turned onto the Salar, the mysterious salt desert where illusions and mirages are not uncommon and drove accross it towards our accomodation. 

Due to it's vast emptiness, it would be very easy to become disorientated in the Salar and lose your sense of direction (as well as your mind) but our driver reassured us that he had 13 years experience driving this route and that he used the mountains to navigate.

Our accomodation was a hotel made of salt. Actual salt. One of the boys licked the wall to test it. I became aware of a cut on my foot when I walked around the hotel barefoot! 

We got told that one of the jeeps has rolled over three times, sending the tourtists in it to hospital with broken bones.

I sampled quinoa beer and we were served a big last supper before going to bed at 9pm as we were getting up at 4am to see the sunrise....

Crazy flamingos day two

The second day started with Llamas, a big pen of them all chewing sideways with their matted hair over their eyes and colourful tassels attached to their ears. They were in with a flock of sheep who being naughty and trying to leave over the wall. They were told to GET BACK by a little sheep herder girl. They probably try it everyday and forget they tried it the day before, like a Wallace and Grommet film. 

We were driving in the heat along dust roads that are so dusty that we weren't allowed to have the windows open unless both sides were open, the same amount and at the same time, so Ken and I would nod to each other in some silent need-of-air understanding before allowing some dust air in. We were so dusty and dehydrated we turned into instant people, just add water dust balls. 

Later we saw a few small tornados whirling along the sandy, blue skied back drop, which was epic. Then we went to a blue lagoon, highly sulphuric to the point that if you entered it there would be a death. This was casually situated infront of a semi active volcano. So epic. Epic epic epic.

Then we saw flamingos stalking around on a pinky colored lagoon and one of the boys ended up foot-deep on a part of it where the ground was soft resulting in an eggy shoe for the rest of the trip. Gutted. Glad we weren't in their jeep.

Then we went to have lunch overlooking a volcanic pool which was 35 degrees due to hot springs running into it from the volcano. That's the same temperature as Rio was when we were there. It would have been rude not to, so we stripped off and had a bath. The tour guide of the English boys, called Raol, was in there with us and everything he said ended with "guys" and was described as "crazy". Like, "This lagoon is crazy, guys. These llamas are crazy. This lagoon is crazy, borrax, sulphur, crazy. That flamingo is crazy, guys."

Then we drove to see some geezers (alright geeeeez!) steaming out of the ground. They stank of sulphur and were super dangerous to go near as they were over 100 degrees and surrounded by bubbling grey pools of acidic death. A nasty fate would be met should anyone stumble into it. There was vapor all under the ground around the area and you could create your own geezer by piercing the ground. Nice one, geeze!

The accomodation for the second night allowed us 2 hours of electricity which went out at 9.30pm. It was quite nice to have a really basic set up. Kerri managed 3/4 of a can of beer before she was wasted because of the altitude!!

 

I had a moment with a one-year-old Bolivian girl in a walker, she came up and smiled at me.. The kids here are so cute!!! All wrapped up in loads of layers and blankets with big wide eyes and rosy cheeks and black hair. 

We ate a traditional meal of veg soup to start then a big pile of chips with beef, boiled eggs, sausages, fried onions  and tomatoes *Note to self- this would make awesome hangover food.* but we were full from the soup because the altitude depletes your appetite.

Kerri nearly woke me up to open her paracetamols because she couldn't open them because they were a child proof bottle and had such a bad headache from the nearly whole can of beer! 

When Donald woke up, one half of JP, he asked if anyone else was "glowing in the dark last night?!" One of the boys said his pillow was glowing in the dark. Magic. 

Salt flats day one

From Tupiza we embarked on our four day tour of the salt flats. We were grouped with a couple, she was from Slovenia and he was from Boston. She wore the trousers and was like the woman out of Jurassic park. So they became known as "JP" which then became "JP with cheese" whenever they had a romvom moment. It was us, JP, a cook called Porfe and the driver, Vincent, in the jeep together. On the first day we drove for 11 hours over the most epic mountainous roads and up to an altitude of almost 5000 meters. JP produced a bag of coca leaves to help with the altitude and we decided to give them another chance A) because we were all feeling it massively and B) this time they had the ash needed to activate the leaves. You roll the leaves into a ball and bite off a minuscule piece of ash, any more and it will burn your mouth. The ash made the world of difference and we got a fully numb mouth but I don't know if it helped with the altitude, paracetamol worked a treat.  The driver must have packed about one hundred into his mouth, relentlessly stuffing them in, tearing the stem out with his teeth. We drove past wild llamas and alpaccas, had lunch out the back of the jeep in front of an amazing view. Stopped at mud villages which were too basic for words. Not a single shop, just a school and a pharmacy. They have their priorities right! 

The playlist in the jeep was jokes - power ballads such as "love isn't always on time" & "eye of the tiger" etc. We drove past some kids straightening out the road and we gave them bananas and money. There were about 5 jeeps in convoy that looked so cool burning along dirt roads, on the edge of mountains, leaving trails of dust, like airplane trails, behind them. Driving through streams. 

On the first night we almost couldn't stay at our arranged accomodation, as our room was given away to a family who had just rocked up. We contemplated the idea of sleeping in the jeep but after eleven hours of driving weren't massively keen. We were in the middle of nowhere after solid driving into the wilderness all day and the option of staying elsewhere would mean another few hours driving.  Luckily they let us in and after a meager dinner we looked up and because of the lack of light pollution, saw stars... So many stars! The Milky Way! Boom. JP asked whether the stars in Southern Hemisphere are upside down? Were we seeing orians belt in reverse? Deep.

The accomodation was basic but at least we had unlimited electricity to charge our batteries.

Sleeping at altitude is harsh. There is only 60% of the oxygen at sea level so it is hard to breathe and sometimes wake up gasping for breath. I Woke up and didn't know which country I was in as they were serving dolce de leche for breakfast! We loaded the jeep and set off for more epic scenery and concentrated jeep time with JP.

Salta to Tupiza

We spent our last day in Salta in our hostel because it was raining and were set upon by three Argentina girls who reminded me of the hyenas from the lion king in both looks and laughter. They were then eating raw egg white from a tea cup mixed with cereal which smelled bad and no we didn't want any thanks haha. Then they said Kerri looked like Xuxa, a Brazilian TV presenter by day and apparently a porn star by night, so rumour has it. Mega lols. We googled her  and she has blonde hair and loads of make up! I wore my tragedy pants and new high top shoes into town and Kerri said I looked like Mc Hammer.  

 

We took our night bus with a kiwi girl we met at the station and four lads from England.  No sleep on the bus because the roads are made of rocks and it's freezing and it kept stopping and starting and letting people on and off. We arrived at 7.30am to a complete switch of scenery, a brown dusty run down town, freezing cold and at altitude. The altitude hit us immediately and we were coughing and it was so tiring to walk a few steps!!! We crossed the border easily with our gringo crew and were welcomed by BOLIVIA! 

Dusty streets, stray dogs everywhere, no roads, street food trolleys selling fried llama, women in traditional dress selling bags of coca leaves. Babies hanging off the backs of women wrapped in colourful shawls. Leathery faces. Police in brown in the doorway of the bank not letting us in. 

We found the bus station and got a jokes old rickety bus for £1.50, which looked like it once belonged to the circus, to Tupiza.

The English lads were staying at the same hotel as us so we had a new crewdem as they were planning on doing the salt flats too and then go to La Paz.

They offered us some coca leaves to help with the altitude sickness and we gave them a go by rolling about twenty into a ball, chewing it a bit to get it going then wedging in the side of your mouth and leaving it there. It was fucking rank and didn't stay in for long! Gave us a slightly numb tongue but that was it. 

We tried to go out for a burrito (Mexican food in Bolivia isn't such a great idea) and  couldn't finish anything but managed a beer and was instantly pissed from the altitude intensifying everything. So we went to bed and watched Popeye in Spanish. 

Iguazu to Salta

The bus we booked from the small skinny man at the Iguazu bus station was cama all the way. Cama means fully reclining and we were also given dinner and breakfast!

On our first coach which was 5 hours, there was a little bus boy running around who always had a sweet in his mouth which made his cheek bulge. He sprung out of the drivers cabin with a bottle of orangeade and a stack of plastic cups and refreshed everyone and then came round again and gave everyone a sweet. We were sat right in front of a TV screen so got to watch some films with no sound, in Spanish. We were also sat by the toilet and so shared first hand the vomit fate of one of the upstairs passengers who kept jumping down the stairs to cough her stomach up (the upstairs sways a lot more than downstairs)

The bus driver liked to satisfy his need for speed and there were many beeps along the way from other drivers. Kerri opened the curtain and looked out at the oncoming traffic on her side but didnt really like what she saw so we just closed them again and banged some loud music on. The driver was enjoying songs including `The locomotion` and some of the passengers were belting it out. Sometimes the bus would stop at the side of the road and someone would jump on unnanounced. Luckily the bus boy with the cheek bulge was there in an instant to check their ticket.

A woman selling hot buttery pastry rings for 5 pesos got on the bus satisfying the hungry and curious amongst us, including me and Ken.

Then we got to Posadas and had to wait an hour and a half and change buses. We learnt ourselves a bit more Spanish from the ancient book my mum gave me which came with a CASSETTE once. Although that seems fairly appropriate here in SA. We have gone back in time at least 15 years. The computer I am currently on is gurgling right now. Proper windows `93 shit.

The second bus, the 18 hour one, came complete with a trolly dolly! She clip-clopped up and down the bus wearing strapless wedge heels and office wear and ordered everyone to get their clip-on tables out from under their seats when she wanted to feed us. We strapped our tables on and were given a blank white packet  which revealed three packets of biscuits inside. All of them were fucking rank but it was hilarious. We thanked her and wondered when dinner would be. At ELEVEN they pulled up to the bus company`s terminal and the trolly dolly trotted out and collected a big cardboard box. She barked at us to strap our tables on again and then presented us with a plastic packet of assorted breads and biscuits. One was a plain bread roll, one was a square bread-cake, one was a pot of unknown yellow wet, one was a roll like a swiss roll and the other was a packet of toast. With this came a sachet of SALT and a sachet of mayonnaise. So we were thinking what the fuck? is the swiss roll thing, which may have tuna and olives in it, the main part and the rest are deserts or what? then she reappeared and banged out a hot box of chicken and rice each. We were so tired and perplexed we just laughed it all down. She redeemed herself massively by giving me a glass of red. At 8am she served breakfast which was three more packets of biscuits. Mega lols.

Salta is like a run down version of a European city...we visited a market selling atzec print bags, ponchos, rugs, hats etc and sampled the local beer. We were given some pesos by an English woman in Ihla Grande who told us to treat ourselves so we spent them here too on steak at a place called Jack`s - reccomended to us by Jack, the Aussie boy we met in Florianopolis. We like doing reccomendations. There isnt a lot to do here except go horseriding, sorry but fuck that, we are not horsey people in the slightest! So we are making the most of the down time, sleeping, chilling and using the wifi before we hit Bolivia as that`s when shit gets BASIC!

We had an adventure earlier trying to locate an English - South American adapter with our basic Spanish. We took an adapter with us as a prop and got sent in a thousand different directions by shop keepers, one man who had lost his voice whispered the way to us and others just kept shaking their heads but we eventually found one :)

Water water water... with Ben

So the breakfast in Argentina focuses on bread and other breadlike things like biscuits and toast. Tropical fruit is a thing of the past. The most you can expect here is a soft apple or a green orange haha. They like to put dolce de leche on their bread, which is basically condensed milk, so if you start the day with this and a big coffee you are bouncing off the walls. There are loads of fat people here in South America waddling around and heaving themselves up the stairs of the buses. Bubbly, sorry.

At the bus station, a camp Isreali guy wearing a colourful head band and a big straw hat with a hole in it, came upto us and introduced himself as Ben. We were asked to guess his nationality, which is always awkward to have to do. We guessed correctly - at which he was surprised, which made it little more awkward...are you supposed to guess right or wrong?! He loved chatting to us and stuck to us for the whole day, until it was time for his special boat ride that he had organised to go on with a big group of  Isrealis. He asked us to correct his English where it was wrong so he got a lovely long English lesson from us while we walked around the park. The train that takes you to the Devils Throat part of the falls had a huge queue so we walked at the side of the tracks instead and got there faster, accompanied by butterflies of all different sizes and colours flying around us! Also on the way we saw a crocodile or aligator cruising in the river haha

The Devil´s Throat was just mental. Just so much water. Like skyscrapers of water falling again and again and again non stop. The spray drenched everything and everyone and all cameras, you had to take photos super fast with your wet thumbs and it was so loud. We had a lovely photo with Ben (haha) and then had to speed walk back along the train tracks to get our boat ride.

Ben kept popping up all over the park and claimed that he was friends with everyone which turned out to be true as we bumped into some English people who he had met in Beunos Aires and then he popped up again, when we were waiting for our boat, with an English couple in tow who were on their honeymoon! pretty jokes that they were trying to see this amazingly beautiful waterfall in true romantic style and they had Ben the camp Isreali with them introducing them to all his other English friends, like us. I was trying not to laugh at his enthusiasm towards connecting us with them, it was sweet.

The speedboat drove at full speed directly under the waterfall and it was SO cool. Everyone got drenched and had to wave for the cheesy video that was being filmed by the main guy in a fishermans poncho who was at the front of the boat getting the full facial. We had to strip off and ring all our clothes out afterwards because they were wetter than an otter`s pocket.

We went out for dinner again, this time at a Japanese restaraunt, then had an amazing air-conditioned sleep ready for our 25 hour jouney to Salta....

Florianopolis to Argentina

We left Submarino hostel and was bid farewell by the DOG.

The owner said goodbye in the most disinterested way ever by asking us if we were on our way to RIO. I just said yeah thats right yeaaaaaah because we coiuldnt be arsed with the awkwardness. She said if we ever wanted to come back we were welcome and I said she`s always welcome in England and she made a face as if to say 'I would never go to England, are you mad?'

As soon as we got in the taxi we felt so liberated. Even the taxi driver seemed like he was the nicest person we had ever met.

We got on our 18 hour bus and slept a bit. Woke up to torrential rain and grey skies . Got off our bus and luckily it had stopped raining because it seemed like we were going to Bath and Stonehenge again.

We had a swift cafe con leche at a greasy spoon cafe in the bus terminal of Foz du Iguazu and got on a local bus going to another place (cant remember was too tired) and then got another bus going to the falls. On the bus an English Elecitrician called Luke and an English Town planner called Mark started chatting to us.

We saw the Brazilian side of the falls, after putting our big bags in lockers, wearing the clothes we were travelling in, with the Electrician and the Town planner. There were raccoons of all sizes everywhere that sprung out of the hedges at us and wanted food. There were signs everywhere say dont feed the raccons because they will bite and scratch you and have rabies. Then a child ran past and gave one a big cuddle and a stroke and I said a small prayer and they all gathered around a man who had a bag of crisps and sat up like meerkats and begged and he made loads of jokes hand and arm movements pointing in the direction in which he would like them to leave but they didn´t understand. We laughed and took loads of photos like Japanese toursists.

The falls were amazing, mindblowing, sensational, overwhelming, humbling, epic and sick all at the same time.

Then we had to go to Argentina so we got on a bus with the Electirician and the Town planner and got off at the side of the road as we were told we had to get another bus from there to cross the border. We got off the bus with an Argentinian family and we all stood by the side of the road trying to communicate while a taxi driver lurched into our faces with a speech about how there is only one bus per hour and its way better to get a ride with him. We went with the Argentinian dad to ask Tourist Information and after ages of waiting (they do customer service when they are ready) they told us there would be a bus in 45 mins so we waited and one came really soon. It was jokes that it was just a shabby old Cornish looking bus with Àrgentina`written on the display. Casual.

We got dropped off at the first part of the border, some small old office, got our exit stamp and then waited at another bus stop while an old man just leisurely cycled straight through border control on his bicycle. We made friends with a guy from Holland who told us he had also been at Florianopolis and some of the same parties. Small Gringo trail world again. Then we got another bus and got our entrance stamp at the next part of the border control and were in!

As soon as we had gone a few more streets the roads were red and everything was different which was hard to believe because we werent even far away from Brazil. We were absolutely shattered from the 18 hour journey and walked up a steep hill to find our hostel, which was a test. We got there and the guy at reception joked that there wasnt any rooms available which was so funny we forgot to laugh.

We finally had a room with air con! the first in the whole of SA! we have been having fan life which is ok but nothing on aircon! The room came with the standard group of Isrealis, who are everywhere at the moment as theyve just finished their National service.

We went out tired and hungry and booked our bus tickets and then had a FAT steak which was about two inches thick and most of a bottle of wine and then went home and slept like babies :)

Farewell Floripa!

So last night we worked our last shift which was a riot. Wondering around doing nothing. No drinks because we are SO over drinkinnnggggg.

Went into town today to get some shopping and souvenirs done like we do just before leaving each place and realised we didnt need anything because we are SO over shopppinnnngggg.

We said goodbye to two more people yesterday, four the day before and 2 the day before that. Harsh times!

The girls who left yesterday were SO funnnnnyy. They were sisters who seemed pretty young and everything they said was said with SUCH DRAMAAAAAAAAAAAA....they were absolutely priceless. Reminded me of Will Johns when he was 20. Everything they said was SO enlongaaaaaaaaaateeeeeeeeeeeed and because they were sisters they were just SO similiaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! we loved them :)

Boris the crazy Dutchman left, our four English crewdem girls left, Jack left, the camp young Aussie boy who had been sent on a South American and North American and European tour by his parents becuase he was TOO MUCH OF A WASTEMAN AT HOME. Good one!

So our stay here has been ok really. It will be filed under ´jokes things that happened in Brazil´. The bitch was on my case right up til the end of my shift last night and I continued to kill it with kindness :)
Had a big cuddle and a dance with Joaquina, the sausage dog, last nightShe lets me pick her up and walk around the hostel with her in my arms like a baby and she is so docile, she doesn´t give a shit.

There were giant ants all over her dog food last night and we also saw a GIANT butterfly the size of a bird. It looked like it was made of leathery old bark and was flapping around like a big, gangly oversized bat. Kerri had a final fight with a cockroach. She had to wake up Rodrigo, latest flatmate, and get him to kill it and put it in the bin. This wet weather brings out the insects. We also saw a crazy hairy yellow caterpillar siding along the street on the way to Bom Jesus.


We are getting an over night bus from Florianopolis to Iguazu in Argentina. We are well excited. So yeah hardly the send off we got from ITH haha! that was SO goooddddd...

Laura

I have a new friend called Laura.

She let me feel her gastric band - it felt like a bone.

Last night she showed me how she can slap her own face with one of her boobs.

The lake

 

We have a cool crewdem at the moment consisting of 6 English girls including us, a London boy, an Italian boy, a Swiss boy and a nut case Dutch boy called Boris who tries to stand up in the hammock and flips it over so he's hanging onto it from underneath and also claims he can change into any shape (I suggested changing into a hard boiled egg, with a dippy yolk, and get eaten by Hercules the Viking - for a laugh).

Hercules is still so intense. He addressed the group by barking an order at us to relocate around to the other side of the garden because we were near his bedroom window. Everyone was so struck by this direct command that it was just received with silent nods and nervous smiles. I've been trying to sneak a photo of him but a) I'm too scared of being caught and b) his stare, should it actually meet the camera, would no doubt penetrate and destroy the lens. 

The boys were cooking everyone a curry last night when Hercules arrived in the kitchen to prepare his egg feast. I wrote "don't be afraid" on one of the stickers available for labelling your food and stuck it next to the cooker to encourage the boys not to abandon their dinner.

So we ate a blow-your-head-off-hot curry and then everyone decided, since it was raining, to go and sit in the lake and drink. So they all got into their still-wet from the beach swim wear, drank up and left. 

I finished work at midnight and had agreed to meet them in the lake. I got changed and, bottle of wine underarm, went down to the lake in the rain. No sign of them. The plan was to wade out to the boat and sit in it. Couldn't really see the boat but could kind of make out a shape. Already soaked and one or two swigs of wine down I contemplated going home as for all I knew, they could have changed plan and abandoned the lake idea and I would massively gambling by wading out into a completely dark lake, in the pissing rain, sober. 

Gambled.

Well fun.

Rant

I am pretty hungover today. Cachaca is harsh as fuck. Decided I had had a few tame days keeping a low profile and it was time to get lairy again. The owners of this hostel run a night on a Monday called Green Go party at a place called Mustafa´s (no sign of Simba) which is some bullshit night that all the travellers go to. Brazil nightlife is so backwards, its like Brighton in the 90s. Everyone stresses that you MUST bring your ID and when you get there and you don´t have it they´re like, ah no worries just come in anyway. You queue up at one bar and get a wrist band with a barcode on it and then you put money on it. Then you queue up at another bar to get your drink and they scan your wristband to see if you have enough cash. The problem with this is it takes twice a long to get your BOOZE and you have no idea how much drinks are or how much you have left!

I dont want to listen to Nicky Minaj and hear samba music, it´s shit. Someone needs to open a volks here. I want a rum and ginger ale with fresh lime and to hear Ed Solo. We have a boy from London at the hostel at the moment who was blasting some DnB from his Ipad last night so I went and stood right next to it and glued my ear to it. 

So good meeting more English people. I got well anti-social at the last hostel we were at and realised that I didnt actually make the effort to speak to ANYONE except the people in our room haha. I know it´s bad but as soon as I hear broken English I cannot be fucked! I know there won´t be any jokes! except really obvious ones!

So yes, missing jokes from home today. 

Last week we met a Canadian 50yr old dad who has been on the road since November 2012 living off his retirement money. He just drives round in his Jeep and has two surfboards and a skimboard. He let me borrow his 7´2 board which was a dream board and we went surfing at Praia Mole. I got out of the sea because my knee was open and raw and bleeding down my leg haha. I really wanted to go on his 6´4 board (the smaller the boarrd the faster you go) just to see if I could handle it but me knee couldnt handle anymore and trying to pop up with a raw knee on a heavily waxed board was harsh so I got out and let the air sting the fuck out of it. This trip is making me into a rock.... I landed directly on a crab and had to actually pull the crab´s little claw out of my baby toe when I jumped off my board the other day at Joaquina beach! 

We got back and Kerri watched a documentary about a canal with him (riverting Sunday night) whilst i ´worked´ - there is nothing for us to do here! the evening shift is just wondering around an empty hostel doing nothing! waste of time but at least it´s free accomodation!

The Brazilian bitch is still a bitch. She hasn´t been so bad to Kerri and tries to be nice to me sometimes but in my book she has fucked it and I will never like her. For example, she told me she liked my perfume the other day (I wasn´t wearing any) which was odd. She also keeps saying she ´looks like a nigger´ after a day in the sun, we told her she can´t say that and she just says, ´I know, but I look like a nigger´. Racist bitch. The other staff just give us single word responses when we try to make an effort wth them.

There is a super nice Thai girl who acts like a child, who´s fucking the owner but he treats her like shit. The owner is a big beefcake Brazilian guy who thinks he is the dogs bollocks and he runs it with his sister, who has black teeth from smoking twenty fags a minute. Then there is a lesbian couple. One has a shit, mullety hair cut who we were referring to as ´shit haircut´ for ages because we couldnt remember her name. She is the one who called me ´the English girl´ so the name learning thing is mutual, love. Her girlfriend has hardly any English so she is mostly a silent witness and when she asks you do something she gesticulates and you have to guess what it is she wants you to do, like a game of charades, haha. Then there is a new Argentinian guy who has no English at all either so speaking to him is short and sweet. He started pissing himself when I told him my knee cut was from surfing so he can fuck off as well.

We are waiting for some post and as soon as it comes we might do one because we just feel a bit unecessary here, which is a shit feeling - you can probably tell from my ranting tone today haha. Also it´s a really quiet hostel with really quiet people. Two german girls last night were diluting their caiparinhas last night with water. Who DOES that?! and then there is the crew of blonde guys from Finland or Denmark or somewhere viking-y and they just go on their laptops and then cook meat.

Some super posh sounding, super rich, gap yar 19 year old girls from Kent turned up too last week. They were really sweet but so naive! They are 2 weeks into their 5 month trip and have clearly had a lot of it sorted out for them by parents. They were like, `yar we booked our Inka trail with STA (so overpriced and expensive!) because it would have just been sooooo much hassle to sort out ourselves!´ Then they asked if they should take their kindles to the beach. One of them was puking her guts up from some sort of food poisioning. Then she had a mouthful of toast and was like ´oh my god I am literaaaarly fit to baarsting´. Liam if you are reading this, you know exactly what voice that is!

They saw Yogi the viking fucked off his nut at the pool party, floating around the pool on his back staring straight up at the sky with really intense, wide, focused eyes, bumping into the side of the pool with his head.

We went for late night swim in the lake the other night after a few bevs. Just stripped off to our bikinis and ran straight into it. We ran over to a boat, about 500 metres away and it didnt get any deeper than above the knee! so strange! Yogi the viking asked if we wanted to do it naked and we were like NO.

We are now living in a small apartment which is across the road from the hostel. It´s so nice having our own space AND we have a kitten from next door who always comes to play. We are sharing with a Brazilian guy called Gustafa but he is hardly ever there. The bitch is moving in on Friday though so watch this space.....

In other news I got a magnum last night on the way home, hardly a kebab but it was good! furthermore, I have so much love for the sausage dog! At least she´s safe :)

Hercules

So there is a guy here who looks like Hercules. He has chin length wet blonde hair and is always topless. He is from Norway so he speaks like a Viking and loudly. He only eats 12 boiled eggs a day. He goes for power walks with an intense focus on the road. His name is Yogi. It´s scary when he says your name when you didn't even know he knew it because you've been too scared to talk to him.

Making the most

So as some of you know, the ability to switch off in the presence of a relentless nag and deliver the single 'yes sir, no sir three bags full sir' is a virtue and one that we have decided to practice. After five days of working, we've got roughly three days off together so it's time to explore the island!

Yesterday we went up to the sand dunes to try sandboarding. Kerri hired a board while I shot some photos and then I had a go once she was knackered. (Climbing back up the hill in 35 degree heat at midday is harsh).

 She skates goofy and I skate/surf (I don't skate) regular so her board was a test for me, like writing with the wrong hand but it was so much fun! You have to wax the underside of the board each time with this little nobbin of candle wax they give you that everyone loses in the vast white dunes. It was so windy we felt like we were in the actual Sahara. The wind was whipping the sand against our legs and you could see the sand blowing down the dunes. So cool. We will be going back for more and hiring a board each. 

I went to a pool party on Saturday which was incredible but more like a wasp party  as there were so many wasps swarming about, crawling down straws in drinks, in people's mouths, all over everything to the point where you couldn't move away and had to just relax and be at one with them (easier when drunk!) The music was pumping and it was like being in an R n B music video with Latino girls in thong bikinis sipping cocktails on white beds around the pool. 

Saw someone who was at our hostel in Rio but he didn't remember me as he was so fucked he didn't even know his own name when I asked him - and then I met someone from Brighton! Represent! 

Small word again - no it's the Gringo trail! People all do the same route here. We've spotted the same three guys (who look like Brighton trendies with beards and train driver hats) in Rio first at Christ the redeemer, then on Ipanema beach and now walking down the street in Florionopolis! And Brazil is hardly a small country. 

Yesterday I got a discount on my acai because I spoke in portguese to the vendor (guessed what small talk he was going for - name, country etc) Kerri got charged 10 for hers and I got charged 6 so I got grilled cheese on a stick too. lOVE the beach snacks! 

Then yesterday evening the whip cracker summoned me to reception to her laptop an was like "come here I use you" and made me write the hostels policies in English whilst she gave me a brief idea of each one in portguese, it was tough!

Her: "ok, here we need make put if guests make book with other person no can change book information only guest"

Me: " err..information provided at time of reservation cannot be altered by third parties unless previously authorized?" 

Both of us staring at a screen of Portuguese, her popping off to smoke blunts and me trying to think back to all the PR writing I've never done! Haha! 

Bugs, blunts and bitchiness.

So we just tackled a 2 inch cockroach. My second of the day. Kerri sprayed it relentlessly whist I screamed directions: "keep spraying! keep spraying! keep fucking spraying it!"

We arrive at the hostel and introduced ourselves and the woman at reception says "oh you're here to work eh?" Laughs and makes a whip-cracking movement and sound. We laugh nervously (after agreeing previously there is no fucking way we are working on our first day) 

After noticing some of the notices that are up everywhere I reckon it might be quite harsh here, "stop that, don't forget this, don't do that, absolutely none of that". 

We sorted this out by emailing them on the off chance so we aren't bound or protected by a workaway contract like in San Diego (where people would smoke a spliff before starting work and be given drinks throughout their shift). 

We were given a room with a random old Brazilian man who I spoke to in Spanish who said "bonito" to every place I said we were going, which was nice. Luckily the whip cracker let us off for the day but we are to work 6 hours a day, five days a week. I'm doing morning shifts, Ken is on evenings. Day off together. 

There is a SAUSAGE dog here called "Joaquina" which is the name of the local beach. It's such a jokes dog just crawling along so low with its belly grazing the ground and it sleeps in a bed which is a soft shark so it's face pokes out the sharks mouth haha.

So I started work at 8am sharp this morning and watched them make a breakfast of tropical fruit, cheese, ham, cereal etc and then we went upstairs to check the bathroom and the whip cracker looked behind me and screamed and was like MOVE so I did and she ran back with the bug spray and started annihilating this massive cockroach which was on the wall above my head until it fell to the floor and writhed around in its white creamy death bed. 

I made a banana cake which was fun and then the whip cracker asked me if I wanted to smoke a blunt! Whaaat haha I'm good thanks.

During the first day or two we had decided they are super anal, OCD clean freaks. You have to check the bathrooms every 5 minutes to see if the light is on or the bin needs changing. 

 Last night Kerri got shown how to turn all the lights on and when I was cutting up fruit for a guest I was asked if I had washed my hands. I also got told off for talking to guests because i was supposed to be watching to see if a segment of fruit needed replacing of an extra grain of granola needed putting out (it was all absolutely fine). 

After the initial couple of days we've realized it's just one bitch, a Brazilian girl who is making it seem ridiculous, she clearly has a chip on her shoulder about something, everyone else is safe and just really proud of the cleanliness awards they have won over the years. She actually goes a little further to be a class A bitch. Kerri heard her refer to me as "the English girl" to her colleague the other day. I have bitten my tongue and simply laughed when she had a go at me for no reason. One time was when two guests  were 'making a loud noise' at 9.30am.

After she had told them off, she said to me, 

"Jenna tell your friends (what because they're English, too?) not to be loud before ten am." 

Me: " haha, it has nothing to do with me, I didn't make a sound"

Her: "yes but can you tell them (they're standing right next to us) it's very important that you are quiet during these times" 

She then went on to labour the point in front of the guests, who were massively confused. They had ran up and hugged each they in excitement after not having seen each other for a year. Chill the fuck out love, it's a hostel not a meditation centre. 

Me: "haha! It wasn't me"

 SHABBAH!

Such a constrast from ITH where they let me cook for thirty people no questions asked but here they have to watch over our shoulder as we clean the sinks, with PURE ALCOHOL, It's like using vodka to wipe a table down! (Not hangover friendly).)

We have decided to "no-rise" it. 

Ihla grande to Florionopolis

We left our hostel and went to get a boat over to the mainland. In the 5 mins we had to wait before boarding the boat I ran into the drug store and via mime, facial expressions and gesticulation was given a cream for my bites.... with Portuguese instructions. On the boat there were some English people sat in front and behind us, rich, 'gap yaaaah' type kids. I caught a glimpse of one's playlist and noticed they were enjoying a bit of Celine Dion and Ne-yo. The boat took an hour then we had to get a local bus but the two people whom I asked if they spoke English (In Portuguese) totes ignored me, so we were off to a good start haha. I had a comfort kit kat and reassessed the situation. Found the tourist information and got on a bus eventually after sitting at the bus stop watching an old Brazilian man,5 with no teeth gurn, in a really cute way. We got long distance bus number one where we were sat in front of each other but then after an hour a man in a hat and glasses (disguise) came and sat by me and he smelt the same as my best mate Will Johns (Chanel allure homme sport) which was pleasant.

After 7 hours of bumping along a never ending s-shaped road and drifting in and out of snoozes, we arrived at São Paulo bus station. We set up camp in the waiting area and I noticed my legs and ankles were really swollen. 

I told Kerri and she said maybe I should not have put the portguese cream on top of the American cream on top of the repellent. No suncream that day luckily, else I could have actually made a trifle. 

We waited four hours. It was so hot so I got the free fan we got given in Vegas out and fanned us. For dinner we decided to sample the Brazilian Subway, which was fun as we didn't know what anything was in Portuguese but as we are such chronic Subway fans we smashed it. We could have navigated our way through the question order had it been in Arabic. Kerri: " Yes 6 inch, honey oat, yes cheese, yes tomatoes, no peppers, yes onion, yes cucumber yes eat now yes meal deal crisps and a coke."

Our night bus was luxurious. Only ten people on it and fully reclining BED seats which were a touch - and a blanket. There was a single mum her one-year-old, who was so cute, next to me who was so docile the whole way. We were woken up by the driver slamming on the brakes but it was all good.

When we arrived we were so spaced out and I lost Kerri's bag tag. She had mine and I had hers to begin with cos we were so tired we thought it didn't matter. The bus drove off and left us and the baggage man outside holding Kerri's bag back while she begged me to find it quick and i scrabbled round trying to find it throwing all my creams around wondering how much I could bribe him if it came to it when he let her have it out of sympathy, probably at the state of us. Money belts are HOT accessories. In terms of adding to your overall temperature that is, not swag haha. 

We then took another local bus and finally a taxi and arrived at Submarino hostel, where they told us it was the hottest day of their year. Jokes!

Ihla Grande

A beautiful island two hours south of rio. 

We met a girl from Barcelona at our hostel in rio who wanted to come with us to Ihla grande so we booked a transfer via our hostel and were picked up in a minibus where there were 5 other Argentinian girls. Me and Ken squashed ourselves Ito the last two available seats next to a fat girl who complained about the heat the whole way and when we stopped to get food and water, only 30 mins away from our desination, she changed buses because she was so pissed off haha. We took a boat to the island which took 1.5 hours and found or hostel super easily. We noticed there were quite a few mosquitoes about and our room was tiny for a 9 bed dorm! We were sharing with 5 more Argentinian girls (all Argentinians are in search of watery places at this time of year) and a German woman called Petra who spoke with such a posh British accent. We later found out she lives in hampstead London and has roots in the weapons industry (cash cash monies). We hit up the nearest beach pronto as we were so hot from travelling and swam near the boats, saw a dead fish on the beach then fell asleep in the shade. We made friends with Petra who had made friends with a Brazilian guy called Sergio and we decided to trek 3 hours through the forest to reach one of the sickest beaches in the world. Dream team.

After an elaborate breakfast we set off, covering ourselves in suncream and bug spray in our bikinis (too hot for clothes) and trainers. Sergio asked three separate people the route (that's the rule here ask three times) and warned us about a certain poisonous snake, one of the most  poisonous in the world, and the jaguars. We had read in the guide book that if we were to meet a jaguar, we should try to appear bigger than normal and shout. Yeah good luck. We were also told to watch out for monkeys. 

We started climbing and it was literally climbing up a super steep rocky ascent for about an hour and then some downhill. The noise of an insect like a grasshopper was PIERCING and I was on the lookout for spiders. There were massive ants everywhere so we had to be really careful about where to put your hands when climbing! 

We were told we'd reach two beaches before we got to the golden nugget... We came across the first which was so gorgous and had fallen mangoes along the beach! We had a quick dip to cool down and then continued the trek. We didn't swim in the second beach because by this point we were fucked and just wanted to get there! Each time we left the beach it was a steep ascent back up into the forest. We saw a tiny, cheeky looking monkey with a hairy face perched on a branch above us haha!

It was like a postcard when we got there, crystal clear turquoise sea, so warm, white sand and trees all along the beach!

We took a boat back to the main port where our hostel was and just chilled at the hostel. I cooked beans, rice and veg for me, Ken and Noelia (the girl from barca) and we tried and failed to connect to the wifi a few times.

The next day we went to 'black sand beach' where the sand is literally black it's crazy and makes it even hotter! We were asked to a home cooked dinner by a friendly black guy called Ronaldo who kept bumping into us on the island but we kindly declined and went about getting ourselves to the boat party....

It was free caipirinhas for the first hour while we were still docked, then we set off into the sunset with everyone half cut and dancing. The boat stopped and it was time to jump in which was sooo sick! I jumped in and then some other girl jumped and her head came up right in between my legs so I thought she must wanna be friends so introduced myself and she was like I love your accent which is weird because I thought you only got that in America. She was from Argentina!

Upon climbing back into the boat you had a shot poured into your mouth haha it was super fun. Me and Noelia played on a life ring and then I got told off for jumping in again when we weren't allowed to anymore. 

The next day was shit because I woke up with 27 new bites on my legs and I could tell straight away they were different. Within a few hours they'd all swollen to about 3cm each and were really red and itching and burning like fuck. Kerri was worried about booking the transfer to florionopolis as we hadn't even able to sort it out because of the shit wifi and the last thing I wanted to do was make the journey feeling like this. It was so bad I couldn't even think straight to give her an answer and no cream or tablets were helping. I was sad and homesick and wanted some comfort, not a hot as fuck room with 8 other people with more Mosquitos flying around and no wifi! 

I went to the drug store (haha so American) and got me some painkillers. 

I considered going home in a big fat sulk. Skyped Sally, Olive and Helen and Olive was in her skeleton pyjamas and asked if I had a 'beetle in my bed'. I told her yes...haha. I was cheered up and we frantically booked our transfer because we'd left it to the last minute and the coach website was in portguese and so we had to get our amazing translator to help us again.  Got woken up in the night by my bites hurting and then it was time to go! More sad goodbyes and then first journey alone without a Spanish/portguese speaker and longest yet commenced...

Exotic Queens

So last night we went to a Samba party in a Latin bar as one of the promoters also works on the bar at our hostel so she got us cheap entry. She's called Cecelia (she actually sang the song when she introduced herself). Respect.

When we got there it reminded us of a school disco: disco lights, not many people there and Samba music that we English, who only dance at volks with the classic signature one handed, one finger point to the ceiling move, dont understand.

There was free beer until 12 though so we returned to the bar holding out our little plastic cup for a warm refill with a massive head until they ran out.

We went to the loo and discovered several large but luckily dead cockroaches on the floor, just being kicked about by stilettos then noticed that one of the toilet cubicles didn't have a door. Neither did it have any suggestion of what might have been a door or where a door could have gone. It was just a free range toilet that was there for the slightly more lairy of girls to use should they wish.

Then when we stood by the mirrored walls watching the Samba, it started. The onslaught. It begun with a simple question of eye colour...you are so beautiful what colour are your eyes blue or green? Er blue thanks. Stay here I will be back. Swiftly relocate to the other end of the room where a circle of people are dancing. Get pushed into the circle, get clapped at, get another man wanting to have a photo with us.

As it filled up it got smaller and we were hassled so much, both of us. By so many different guys and at one point there were three telling Kerri they really liked me. Ahhhh! We felt like exotic celebrities but it was too much and neither of us are even slightly interested so we went to the other end of the room to hide from our predators and dance in peace.

Then we met some real nice Argentinians and spoke to them which was pretty tough because we have been trying to adjust to Portuguese so switching back to Spanish was confusing but easy after loads of free beer and Kerri was throwing in bits of Italian.

Today we had our last day on the beach in Rio...sad times. We went to Ipanema beach and had green coconut, acai again, meat on a stick, prawns on a stick....its the perfect life!

We were sat near the police tent when suddenly all the police ran over to the shoreline and more police arrived with guns everyone was like what the fuck and then they marched off with a young boy and a man. Then later they all ran off after someone else or maybe it was the same gang of kids. Reminded me of City of God. One little kid asked me for a crisp yesterday and he was so sweet that I gave him the whole bag.

We sat and watched the sunset and had a little snooze and many swims and then when the sun finally sets, at about 7.30/8pm, everyone on the beach lets out a big cheer and a round of applause, it's cute.

Off to an island tomorrow for four days!!! Hoping there are as few mosquitoes there as there are here; I've only been bitten twice here which is amazing!!

Rio

Rio is my favourite place we've visited so far by a mile.

We are eating tropical fruits on the beach all day while people come selling us acai sorbet and ice cream. 

The best beach for the sea is ipanema because although the current is so strong that if you stand on the shore line and don't watch your footing it will drag you into its 5 ft shore dump waves, it's warm and really fun to just play with in the shallows.

The sand is too hot to walk on we literally have to hop across it. If you try to go in the sea to go for a wee you may (Ken) get taken out by a 6 ft wave (on the shoreline) that is full of jellyfish that locals in the sea are throwing onto the beach and decide against it so hop over to the lifeguard hut and then realize there are no steps so hop all the way up the ramp and then realize you have no money in your bikini for the loo so hop all the way back to the girls on the beach or wait for a whole family of Brazilian women to finish having a shower in the sink whilst you are waiting in the direct sun still hopping because the toilet attendant told you not to wait in the shade because it is in the way haha

Then a man in a red hat can pick up the jellyfish and speak in Portuguese about it but you don't have your phrase book in your bikini pocket so you nod and smile and then he puts the jelly fish on his skin and then tells you they're all dead and it's fine to swim with them. Then he takes his hat off and gives it to me and leads Kat by the hand into the sea and I don't know what to do with the hat because I want to go in the sea too so do I wear it in or is that rude so I wait until he looks and then raise the hat with a questioning face and then I go in the sea and give him his hat and we all swim then he finds a heart shaped dead jellyfish and then we leave the sea because we still can't really understand him but get the jist haha

We have seen Copacabana beach on day one, Leblon the next day, then Sao Conrado, ipanema and then back to Copacabana. Today we decided our skin deserved a break (good choice really because today it's 36 degrees) so we went to see Christ the Redeemer and the Lapa steps.

We got a bus to the bottom of the mountain on top of which Christ is perched and then got in a van which drives up a vertical ear popping mountain and then you get out and Christ is there massive and it's hotter than hot and there are a thousand tourists and the view is absolutely breathtaking.

The Lapa steps were my favourite though  because they're super vibrant and cool as fuck.

The pavements here are mosaic and there are green coconut trees growing along the boardwalk

LA to Brazil

So we got our flight from LAX at 10.30am to Atlanta no problem, 4 hours in the air and something like 1300 miles. We arrived to Arlanta airport (busiest airport in the world ;-)) and it was 6pm local time which was the first head fuck... Were we hungry? We didn't know as it was meant to only be 2.30pm! I was feeling ill and we were both shattered as we'd hardly slept at the motel due to the heat. Flight 2 from Atlanta to Rio departed at  9.56pm local time and the turbulence after one hour (going near the Bermuda Triangle!) threw our drinks all over us (red wine) and caused the cabin crew to suspend all service and everyone had to sit the fuck down immediately. I watched The Little Mermaid, for a nice distraction - totally forgot Sebastian was Jamaican! 

We spoke to a really sweet Brazilian guy next to us who is a traffic journalist in Rio operating from a helicopter and likes musicals like Billy Elliot. Ok then. 

4570 miles later we arrived in Rio and, having followed the advice on travel forums, typed up a fake itinerary and printed out a bank statement, we were all ready to be taken aside by customs police demanding our proof of onwards travel before granting us entry into Brazil. Either denying us entry, making us but an outbound flight there and then and/or fining us. We queued up for ages, Ken was in a sweat, saying nothing, and when it came to us they simply took our passports, stamped them and didn't even say hello! So good we didn't buy the £450 flight! 

We walked through the airport to find our transfer, a short fat old geezer holding a sign saying "Jina Sinclair" (Jemma, Jenny, Gina, Donna, Turner but Jina, that's a first) and I asked him his name in PortguSpanish to which he replied 'Alfred' then went off in Portuguese assuming we know more than "what's your name" (we have 'happy new year' and 'I have many beers')

He drove us like a maniac through the amazing city of Rio and we arrived at our hostel, paid him 70real and then we were told by our hostel that there was a slight problem and that we had to go to another hostel for this night only, their mistake, so we jumped back in Alfred's taxi and went to another one. 

We went out and got food and then went straight to the beach to meet Kat and Jo. We found them via old school methods (meet opposite this street on the beach whenever you can) as we have no phones and played on the beach and in the sea all day getting beers and ice cream and fresh prawns and sarongs and brought over to us from vendors.

We went back to our hostel, collapsed on the bed from exhaustion and then woke up to a tropical thunderstorm! We went out in it in our shorts and flip flops to find some dinner and it was awesome.