Beaches from Brazil to Buenos Aires & Beyond

-Day 30-

We made a final descent on a Valparaiso ‘ascensor’ and got on our very last bus journey through South America, sob sob! A couple of hours later we were in Santiago. The first thing that struck us was how modern, new and shiny the city was in comparison to the other South American cities we’d been through. Encompassed on all sides by towering mountains, every surface looked considered, polished & manicured, although we were later told there are older parts of the city which don’t have quite the same allure. The natural bowl shaped landscape means the city acts as an inescapable trough for stagnant pollution; apparently the general rule of thumb is the more money you have, the higher up you live because the air is much cleaner at higher altitudes.

We checked into our hostel in a trendy part of town known for its’ nightlife, BellaVista. Passing boutiques, burger bars and fresh fruit juice vendors, we were surprised at the number of city workers rushing around in the blistering heat wearing suits. Moving to Australia, this is something we would need to acclimatise to! Craving some greens (and a beer) we grabbed an artichoke and prosciutto salad nearby.

We were unfazed to stumble across a plethora of artisanal market stalls next door, but thought we’d continue the eternal search for the perfect pair of earrings (by the way, these earrings are purely an image in my head, they probably don’t even exist, and if they do we’d be unlikely to find them for a fiver in a market.) But we went in anyway. I do think we’ve encountered more artisanal markets than dodgy toilets in the last month, and that’s saying something. But this market actually had a really lovely selection of jewellery, and although they were made with cheap materials, I was pretty chuffed with the two jangly pairs of earrings I got for £2. They were not ‘the ones’, but they could keep my lobes pretty till pigs fly.

We’d planned to meet up with Sophie and Kieran that evening, friends of my old friend Aurelie back in London. They too had taken the plunge and moved to the other side of the world. They had just arrived in Santiago a couple of weeks prior, but had already landed themselves jobs and were in the midst of flat hunting. Santiago may not be Sydney, but it made me realise we weren’t the only people doing something so nutty, and gave me hope for the future! They were taking us for a surprise… we slid into an elevator, then into a second, as our ears popped and we rose to the W hotel rooftop bar on the 27th floor. The doors opened and we fell out into tanned fashionistas poolside soaking up the last few rays of the day. I scolded myself for my creased backpacking wardrobe, at this present moment it didn’t feel like we were ‘flash-packing” as we’d joked earlier. We settled into a white leather lounger and our waitress brought over some Pisco sour cocktails. We caught up and exchanged stories of our travels, as the Pisco went straight to our heads! We admired the astounding views over the city, and it felt as if we were parallel with the mountain tops as the city’s lights began to flicker awake beneath us.

Wobbling back to the elevator, Sophie and Kieran took us out for the best pizza we’d had in South America. Ok, the pizza we’d had in Montevideo was good, but it was on doughy focaccia - this was thin, wood fired crispy, and all topping. Inside were vibrant turquoise and red walls, and we sat in a breezy canopied garden out front. The entertainment was an unexpected “bonus”, as a woman accompanied by a portable karaoke box and children jingled around the perimeter. We felt obliged to give her money, if only to encourage her to move on to the some other unsuspecting diners.

Fuelled up with pizza and beer we returned to the W for a few more cocktails, this time lounging on a big white bed, and scolding myself for not having brought something warmer to wear. As the DJ cranked up the pop music and an influx of high heels arrived to eye up the well heeled, we made our exit. Kieran was keen for a night out on the town, and we were keen to see BellaVista in action, so we grabbed a cab to a different world. The three of us resisted Keiran’s begging pleas to go into a caged karaoke club. We all saw it doubled as a male strip club and heard the girl’s shrieks from within, but he’d thought it would be fun. We did not concur, and after a thorough exploration of the area, settled for a curb side table to have a beer and watch the (drunken) world go by. We continued onto another bar afterward, and things get a bit hazy from there… but I do remember two things. One, I smoked a lot of cigarettes for the first time in a month. Bad. Two, I remember seeing a guy enter the bar with an enormous model of a boat with sails and everything. Somehow, he sold it to people at the table beside us. It could have easily been to us because anything seemed like a good idea by that point. Luckily Keiran hadn’t seized the moment to suggest we return to the karaoke strip joint, or this blog entry would not end here.

- By Cass

- Day 21 -

One of the pleasures of spending 3 or 4 days in a city is that you get to backtrack and reexamine the areas you’re already covered and ticked off the “Must See” list. Having hit San Telmo on our first day for the market, I thought as it was our last day and our Hostel’s neighbourhood, we should have a mooch and check out the streets we missed due to the crowds, making our way back up to the centre.

Although I’m not sure when the “perfect” handbag become the holy grail of accessories, I’ve learnt over the years to keep my “helpful” observations to a minimum - why do some women shackle themselves to what is effectively a piece of luggage for daily use, groaning under the weight of filling their Mulberry with “essential” items. Rant over…

Despite Cass coping without a handbag over the last 3 weeks ( instigated by Brazil’s wise women avoiding muggings and my deep pockets) , I knew acquiring an Argentine “buttery” leather bag was high on her priorities for BA. She’d ear marked one in the mall yesterday but felt a cheat to select one from VitaminA, a Brazilian brand. I knew what she meant, as I, similarly eschewed a pair of loafer Hushpuppies as I wanted an Argentine brand - if your going to go with clothes as a souvenir, you at least want some sense of authenticity to justify them. Although we pored through every boutique in San Telmo, keeping our energy up with empanadas, it wasn’t until we reached the centre and a veritable Aladdin’s cave of outlet stores that we came upon THE bag, proudly displayed in the centre of the shop window. With a bit of haggling Cass become the proud owner of a Cul de Sac cream snake skin pressed and natural calf leather bucket bag, complete with “Hace en Argentina” stamped inside. I was equally pleased to complete this seemingly Sisyphean task as well as find my own pair of handmade leather loafers, with a half price matching belt thrown in.

Dashing back to the hostel to collect our less fashionable rucksacks, we discovered that although our 1st class seats on the overnight bus to Mendoza were all set, Lao Hostel had apparently double booked and we were now without a bed for the following night. In what felt like a repeat of our experience for Ilha Grande, we then had to chase around for an available double room, Cass keen not to repeat her Colonia dorm experience. Thankfully we managed to get two hostels booked for the 3 nights, minutes before we needed to head out to catch our ride to wine country.

Now I had been told that Argentine long distance buses were the cream of the crop in South America, and for only an extra £7 each, not choosing the first class cama suites seemed churlish. Other friends who had done the journey had remarked how incredibly spacious the fully reclining seats were and that some even served up a steak and glass of malbec to ease you into sleep. On the comfort side, Andesmar delivered and even my 6ft 3 frame was just about accommodated with some knee bending. The food however, was interesting. Served in what I can only describe as a Fisher Price sealed plastic puzzle tray, each compartment offering a “surprise”. Gelatinous cubes whether sweet or savoury I couldn’t tell, a just about edible potato tortilla and another triple deck crustless white bread sandwich. Strangely the waiter whisked this away after 5 minutes, seemingly familiar that little would be eaten, and followed it with a microwaved chicken fillet in sauce. Andesmar, on behalf of your countrymen, bring back the steak, as it will go perfectly with the delicious Norton Cabernet Sauvignon you provided. Only the free bubbly rescued the meal but it was shame after being tempted by a showcase of classic cinema, the Zookeeper was the night’s film feature.

- By Ian

-Day 12-

After a decidedly well prepared first week, travel pre-arranged and hotel stays generously given to us for Christmas by our parents (thank you!) there still seem to be Brazil shaped holes appearing in our pockets?

While we’re not being lavish (we are after all continually pilfering ham & cheese sarnies), there are ‘standards’ to which ‘one’ has become accustomed & hence we’ve not exactly been pinching the purse-strings either. And hell, we are on holiday! So, we’ve been haemorrhaging Reals like they’re going out of fashion.

Plan of action - next stop - Uruguay! The bikini bottoms there might not be smaller than Brazil, but hopefully the prices might be.

Now connoisseurs of the local buses (which ones NOT to take at least), we hopped on the yellow bus to Florianopolis, negotiated our bus tickets to the Brazil - Uruguay border Chuy/Chui (same place different name, look & feel on either side of one road which marks the border). From there we would wait a couple of hours to take the first local bus out to a cute fishing village called ‘Punta del Diablo’.

The coach trip was 14 hours of lots of legroom, podcasts and scrabble (score update, Ian 2 games - Cass 1. Re-match soon I think!) But despite earplugs, the old lady snoring behind us made it a little difficult to sleep! It was incredible to see the lush mountainous terrain change so drastically as we headed further south. As the land flattened above a floating sunset, the horizon seemed infinite. The scenery was briefly spoilt by industrial estates outside Porto Allegre, where we experienced the more heart wrenching contrast of favella shacks & dire living conditions backing straight up against Mercedes and Chevrolet car plants.

I’d like to quickly mention how awesome the service stations here are in comparison with the UK. As you walk in, they hand you a plastic plaque with a barcode on it. Once inside there is no fast food in sight. There are buffets with an impressive array of home style cooked dishes, fresh salad bars & shops. You load whatever you want on your ‘card’ and just pay on your way out. Really simple, but so much more of a pleasant experience than a Little Chef or McDonald’s!

But then we arrived at Chui.

Now I don’t know much about towns that sit on borders of countries, but I’m learning, and this was a steep curve. The only thing we’d read was that if you’re not a dab hand at blackjack or poker, to pass through as quickly as possible.

We arrived at 4am and wanted to be deposited at the bus station to wait for our continuing bus 3 hours later. But the ‘station’ transpired to be nothing more than a tin shack and a bench, so they dropped us in the center of town which was said to be ‘safer’. There wasn’t a soul in sight other than a couple of shady guys sitting outside a (closed) cafe. A seriously desolate and creepy place that gave us the heebie jeebies I WAS BRICKING IT!! The rest of the coach was continuing onwards to Montevideo, so only us and one other guy got off. We were incredibly lucky that he spoke english and offered that we join him taking a taxi to a hostel a few blocks away to sleep until morning broke & we’d then be safe to walk around the town.

And so it was that I experienced my second ever hostel! Etnico Hostel were extremely lovely & let us kip in their lounge room (for free!) for the next four hours until we awoke to explore the saloon town of Chui, and plan our escape…

- By Cass

-Day 7-

Through it’s cobble stones and cobalt walls, Paraty is a beautiful village to meander through - but during the soaring day time temperatures it feels like a ghost town. So luckily by morning my tummy had put itself back together enough for us to go out on a Schooner boat trip for the day to explore a few of the 55 islands and 100 beaches skirting the coastline, reachable only by boat.

A rugged defender jeep arrived to pick us up (Ian’s dream car- not mine) and we wedged ourselves into the back between several ample sized tourists. After 10 minutes Ian pointed out that it was odd that we seemed to be heading inland… could we be picking some more people up? Where were they going to sit - on our laps!? It then occurred to us that we were not stopping at all. So, we flapped and began squawking the word ‘schooner’ to everybody, to which the response was ‘nao, cascadas’- translation- ‘no, waterfalls’! We realised that we’d actually jumped into a random jeep, no one had checked us and we were too excited to bother to ask! The short but sweet driver ushered us out and asked a random bloke across the road with a minibus to run us back to where we came. They must be familiar with stupid tourists.

You know, so far in Brazil, timeliness has not been a characteristic that’s struck us as being particularly prevalent. But by the time somebody came to collect us (for the second time, oops!) we were pretty late and the last to get on the boat. As they pulled in the gangway after us, I thought we were literally going to get a standing ovation, complete with accompaniment on guitar!

Minutes later we were sailing across emerald waters with Brazil’s answer to Jack Johnson serenading away. We made several stops at deserted white sand beaches and deep water bays, and were lucky enough to see a stingray jump up out of the water and swim with shoals of fish including flute fish. Ian took the opportunity to challenge me to jump off the highest part of the boat. Despite the fact I hate it when my feet can’t touch the bottom, it was exhilarating not to mention refreshing so I did it again and again! So, the next five hours were spent jumping in, climbing out and re-applying sunscreen, and of course the obligatory ham & cheese roll at lunch.

We met two lovely couples on the boat, Canadians and Finns and decided we’d hook up in the evening for some dinner. First we went for drinks at a swanky place in the old town called Margarida Cafe. It came highly recommended by our good friends Hannah and James who’d done a similar trip just months earlier! Then we chowed down some traditional frango (chicken) rice and beans at a charming rustic place nearby and had a final few beers before Ian and I tipsily shuffled our way to the bus station to make our overnight journey to Sao Paulo.

The bus station however was a bit dodgy & on the outskirts of town, and to be honest, we didn’t have a clue what we were doing as this was to be our first ‘big bus’ trip. With difficulty, we collected our tickets and checked in our baggage. I was pleasantly surprised however when we got inside and saw the seats almost fully reclined with legrests & about double the legroom you get on a plane! It was hard to contain my excitement… until my enthusiasm had dwindled about 6 hours later when my bum was numb and the bumpy roads were keeping me wide awake! Meanwhile, after years of practice sleeping with noise on Kingsland Road & Clapham High Street, Ian slept like a baby.

- By Cass