OK, have finally got it together to write this after putting it off for
ages, so apologies as usual as this is going to be mahoosive... hence
the sub-headings... you may also notice the absence of apostrophes due
to the bizarre nature of Brazilian keyboards... they dont have inverted
commas either, which is ironic because everyone here is so garrulous
they make Sybil Fawlty look introverted.
PORTO VELHO - MANAUS (4 days on a riverboat)
The riverboats all follow the same design; the bottom deck is for cargo
and paupers and the middle for sleeping, with the bar/seating area at
the top. Arriving on the boat, our fantasies of swinging lazily in our
hammocks as we drifted down the river, easy-skankin' Bob Marley style,
were instantly shattered as we contemplated a bewildering mass of
hammocks stretched in every available inch of space along the deck.
There was nowhere to put ours, and we didnt know how to tie them without
hooks; however, within a minute we had individually been taken under
the wings of kindly Brazilians. An elderly man put mine up in a space
which only required the minimum of pushing, crawling and climbing to
gain access to. Mischka fared less well; her hammock, a few feet from
mine, was surrounded by a family of teetotal Christians who never
ventured upstairs but sat in their hammocks all day and night, throwing
chicken bones into her bags.
Chaotic, crowded, occasionally smelly as it was, we absolutely loved the
trip. We were the only foreigners on the boat and the Brazilians were
unbelievably friendly and helpful; offering us food, buying us drinks,
helping with the unfamiliar routines and chatting endlessly and
exhaustingly to us, undaunted by our total incomprehension.
Theres something very relaxing about being that far from anywhere and we
did, in the end, spend many happy hours just lazing in our hammocks,
passing mile upon mile of dense green forest and planning painful deaths
for Mischka´s Christians, who liked to rock themselves frequently in
their hammocks, creating a knock-on effect on us similar to those
rows-of-suspended-ball-bearing executive toys where the end one flies
out.
And on the last night one of the girls gave me a plastic bead ring of
the Brazilian flag, which was a typically lovely ending to an amazing
experience.
JUNGLE TRIP FROM MANAUS (3 days)
We arrived here at seven am, and shared a taxi into town with several
hundredweight of green bananas. Manaus is a lively, blisteringly hot
city; as with everywhere in Brazil, the inhabitants are a fascinating
ethnic mix, and the women all continue to dress with impossible glamour
long after their British counterparts have succumbed to the siren calls
of Jaeger, Damart and the like.
We were booked on a jungle trip only a few hours after arriving, leaving
the next day on a smaller version of the riverboat wed arrived on. The
first afternoon, we went piranha fishing on a tributary; Ive never
actually set out to kill anything in my life, so I was surprised how
exciting it was when I caught my first fish. The guide took him off the
hook for me - he was only as big as my hand, but as I held him up to
look at those famous jaws, the sun caught his scales in a lovely rainbow
gleam... then the guide asked, rather prosaically, if I wanted him
cooked. He was still breathing though, and I was rather ashamed of my
earlier atavistic thrill, so I threw him back; the guide assured me hed
live (so dont be cross, Mum!).
We spent that night on the boat, and went on a jungle walk the next day;
sadly, we didnt really see any wildlife, but the jungle itself was an
amazing Bacchanalian riot of plants growing up and through and around
each other, dying and falling where they stood, to be absorbed in the
thick mulch underfoot and start all over again. It was just like being
in a David Attenborough programme (or is it Richard? I can never
remember), but without the whispering.
We were spending the second night in the jungle; our guide, Francesco, a
Venezuelan with an impressive gut and pendulous man-breasts which, with
his bald head, made him look rather like Buddha, had been at the
cachaca (sugar-cane rum) and forgot all the stuff we needed, including
mosquito nets. He had smeared himself from head to waist with a fruit
which turned him a startling yellow-orange; he claimed this was a
mosquito repellent and we didnt need mosquito nets, but me and another
couple insisted on going back to the boat to fetch them. He accompanied
us as we hurried back to the boat in the fading light, helpfully jumping
into the water fully clothed when we arrived, but I only realised how
drunk he was when he started trying to put his arm round me and touch my
hair as we walked back. Oblivious, the other couple were hurrying ahead
in the dark, so having fended him off with some difficulty I just ran
after them and only realised how unnerved I was when we got back and I
felt a huge wave of relief on seeing Mischka.
Totally spooked by now, my mood wasnt improved when having been refused a
towel by everyone, he appeared at the fire to hang out his wet shorts,
wearing only a blue plastic bag tied round his waist with string, and
sat there glowering all evening, swigging neat cachaca from the bottle
and looking like the fat orange man out of the Tango adverts. The whole
thing kind of spoiled that night and the next day, and although I did
get some money back from the tour company Id much rather have had no
hassle and no refund. Bloody typical that in a country famed for its
flirtatious inhabitants and colourful wildlife, I end up combining the
two and getting leched over by a fat yellow toad... Still, Manaus made
up for it by producing a school of pink dolphins to escort our boat out
of the harbour as we left, turning lazy somersaults in the water and
making us all go Aaaah.
MANAUS-SANTAREM-BELEM (4 days on a riverboat)
There were foreigners from nine different countries on this trip, all of
whom spoke excellent English, and we all bonded on the first night over
the three bottles of cachaca and one of pisco theyd smuggled aboard
between them. It was another good trip, with the camaraderie only
seriously threatened when one of the English girls produced a pot of
Marmite at breakfast and every single non-Brit reacted with cries of
revulsion and disbelief. Ignorant bloody foreigners. Still, weve been
offered places to stay in both Buenos Aires and Santiago now, whch is a
result. And one night we saw the most spectacular storm Ive ever seen in
my life... actually there were three separate storms, with literally
continuous purple, yellow or blinding white lightning tearing apart the
entire western quarter of the sky with awesome fury; we sat there for at
least two hours, hardly talking - it was unbelievable.
BELEM
The rain in Belem falls mainly... all the fecking time. We spent one
night here, in a hotel so dilapidated that we had to move rooms twice.
The first one was fine until it started raining, when it turned out not
to be waterproof, and we declined the proffered solution of two buckets
under the leaks. The second one was of consistent quality in that
absolutely nothing worked - light, fan, power points, door lock, etc.
The name of the place was, ironically, the Hotel Palacio. We got on the
first bus out of this sodden, uninspiring city, for a 36-hour pothole
rodeo to Recife.
RECIFE (10 days approx)
We arrived on the Friday to 37-degree heat and were immediately borne
off by Caro (the Brazilian friend we were staying with) to the beach,
where the first thing we saw was a game of beach volleyball, but played
*without hands* - there were four fit men in miniscule trunks using
their heads, chests and feet to control the ball with such typically
Brazilian, insouciant skill that you had to just laugh - and watch,
fascinated. We only dragged ourselves away because Caro was taking us to
her friends beachfront house for an all-weekend party.
The house, in a nearby village, was like something out of an advert -
all glass walls and marble floors, with a large pool, a barbecue manned
by one of three people theyd employed to feed the 20-odd guests more or
less continuously, and the back garden opening onto a private beach. We
spent two days lazing by the pool having our beer glasses constantly
refilled, wondering if life could get any better, and the nights doing
pretty much the same thing, except Caros friends are genuinely mad and
kept trying to teach us Brazilian dances and insisting that we go and
jump in the sea seven times at two in the morning, a lucky New Year
ritual...!
We spent the rest of the week staying with Caros lovely but insanely
religious grandmother (she has a Pope-plate in her flat, FFS!), going to
museums (OK... and shopping centres) and the like, and visiting Recifes
picturesque old sister city, Olinda.
Recife is famous for its extended carnaval and last Saturday there was
an annual pre-Carnaval fancy dress party, which naturally, meant a
couple of thousand people dressed (and undressed) in every variety of
superhero costume, and some amazing music - samba, frevo (the local
stuff), axé, pagode with even some British dance music thrown in too.
On the Sunday there was another pre-Carnaval event called the Parceval,
which very much resembled a carnival in that there were floats, blaring
music and several hundred thousand people on the streets, but who are we
to argue? It was an amazing spectacle, which due to Caros friends
morbid fear of poor people and crime, we watched from someones luxury
apartment eleven floors up. Despite the uniformed black-tie waiter who
opened the door and who appeared miraculously
whenever we were low on beer, we would much rather have been out with
the sweating, heaving masses of revellers, and did in fact risk it for a
bit, with dire warnings ringing in our ears. It was just amazing,
thousands of people bouncing up and down to pounding drums in the
blazing sunshine, and we cannot wait to do it properly in Salvador.
Thats just the highlights - the wonderful thing about Brazil is that at
this time of year you just go out for a quiet drink and end up stumbling
across troupes of drummers and costumed dancers, or similarly exotic
sights. I just adore this place, even though they do extremely strange
things to consonants - *reals* is pronounced *he-ai-iis*, for instance,
and *bom* is *bong*. Still, its all good.
And now - Jesus - Im in Salvador da Bahia, we just spent two hours on
the beach in the blistering heat, and Carnaval starts tonight! Mischka
and I just keep catching each others eye and grinning crazily.
And thats all from me for the moment. Sorry if I sound smug. Some stuff
is crap here, and I miss proper chocolate, and weve apparently got a
hefty chance of getting mugged or worse. Hope youre all keeping well.
That sounds very much like an afterthought, I know, but its not.
Honestly!
PS *Super-legal* means *really cool* in Portuguese. Really.
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