Day 5 - Oooooooooh yah.
22 november 2024, Förenta staterna ⋅ ☁️ 1 °C
09:30
I’m pissed off to be awake at 04:00. Was more than a little hoping that by now my clock would have adjusted better than this. Hopefully the 2 hours time difference to Minnesota will help me out a bit for the next few days. I’m sad to be leaving Seattle. It’s a great town, despite what Rowan might say. It’s expensive, mind - but a great place in which to hang out. I’ll be back for sure, and I think Vicks would like it as a city as well.
I’m packed and on my way to the airport ahead of schedule. The train out to the airport is pretty empty, despite it being rush hour. I just don’t think there are *that* many big businesses in Seattle that have a ton of workers commuting in and out each day. I’m at the airport in very good time, and quickly drop my bag off. Seattle-Tacoma Airport is decent as US airports go. It’s big, clean, bright and airy. I grab some breakfast, and settle into a comfy chair for a couple of hour wait. There’s someone in the restaurant I’m in having a beer. I’m a tiny bit tempted, but not enough to actually grab one.
18:30
Bastard Delta changed my seat. I’d booked myself an aisle seat, and they’ve moved me to the middle of a row of 3. Wank-puffins. The flight’s pretty bumpy. Weirdly, almost everyone at a window seat around me has shut their blind. Apparently the rule about having them open for take-off and landing doesn’t apply in the US? Anyways, it’s really disconcerting in turbulence during take-off not to be able to see out of a window at all. As we wobble and weave our way into the sky, I can’t really tell if the pilot is making modest adjustments, or we’re see-sawing all over the shop. I think about asking my seat mate whether she could open the blind, just while we’re taking off, but she’s fast asleep, and I’m not that mean. The flight’s around 3 hours, and I watch a couple of TV episodes, whilst nursing an IPA.
Landing into Minneapolis is both familiar and new. The airport’s undergone a bunch of work since I was last here. There are some spots I recognise, but others that don’t job the memory. For this, an internal flight, there’s no irritating TSA agents to deal with. My bag arrives at the carousel pretty quickly, and soon enough, I’m on a metro tram into the city centre.
I’m trying to figure out when I was last in town. I *think* it was about 10 years ago, but need to do some forensics to be certain. For about 4 years, after SHL merged with PreVisor in 2011, most of my closest work colleagues were based in the US, and we used Minneapolis (and SHL’s office here) as our meeting hub. All told, I think I visited maybe 5-6 times, and really fell in love with the city. It’s one of my favourite places to spend time. So many cool places to eat and have a beer, an incredible music scene both historically and in the present, several great sports teams - including my beloved Minnesota Vikings NFL team. And because I’m weird, and like the cold, the wintry weather I’m promised is right up my street. It’s around 0C when I land, and will get a little cooler overnight.
The metro into the city is quick, and I’m checked into my hotel a little after 18:00. It’s a Marriott property, from their ‘Tribute’ brand, and a very cool place. It kinda feels like a 1920s art deco hotel inside, and my room is spacious and comfortable. I’m in need of sustenance though. I’m minded to head over to the Warehouse District, where I’ve had some great meals in the past.
22:40
It is COLD out. Mercury says -1C, but there’s a chill wind that makes it feel colder. I wore a pair of light combat trousers to travel today - my standard flightwear. I’m soon regretting not changing these for something sturdier before heading out.
I’ve worked out when I was last in town. It was late Summer, 2013. The city centre is same same, but different. Some of my favourite bars and restaurants have shut, but many remain open. I walk past Gluek’s, a great brewpub a couple of blocks from my hotel. I’ve spent many a happy Happy Hour in here after finishing work at the office nearby. Several of their own beers made on premises, and a selection of other locally made craft beers and ciders. Live music most weekend nights. What’s not to like? I walk past the Loon Café, which is a past favourite of mine for watching Vikings games. I’ll probably end up here on Sunday to watch the Vikings play the Chicago Bears. Highly, HIGHLY partisan crowd.
I head out past Target Field, the home of the Minnesota Twins baseball team, and find a cider brewery, called Number 12. Excellent. They have 12 (aha!) of their own ciders on draft. A few of them sound pretty rank, but I try a couple of their drier offerings, and they’re really good. One is a bit of a monster, at 9.2%, but it’s got a sort of toffee apple funk about it, that I love. It’s also really busy inside. A lot of downtown businesses struggle over the weekends, as the commuter trade heads to the suburbs for the weekends, but here, there’s a very cool busy buzz.
Next door is StormKing, a brewpub and smokehouse. Their Hazy IPA is a lovely drop, and the brisket sandwich they bring me is a thing of great, great beauty. The bark on the brisket is crunchy, chewy, fatty and balls-out delicious. The meat is juicy and tender, and has the texture of something that’s been smoked very, very slowly for a very, very long time. I glance at the time, and realise it’s pushing towards 21:00, and I’m not sleepy yet. Huzzah! I briefly consider a nightcap at the bar at my hotel, but it’s deserted. There are two bartenders working, and I don’t think a 2 to 1 ratio in favour of the bar-staff makes for a good and relaxing bar experience…Läs mer
Day 4 - Peaky Twin
21 november 2024, Förenta staterna ⋅ ☁️ 6 °C
09:30
I sleep well, and until 06:00 - no doubt aided by yesterday’s beer / wine / beer / Guinness / whisky combo. I’m a touch groggles this morning, but not disastrously so. I’m up and out in decent time to pick up my hire car.
Another day, another cultural icon from my teenage years. Twin Peaks first aired in 1990, and I was hooked on it. We had two TVs in our house at that time - one in the living room, and one upstairs in our spare room, which doubled as a monitor for a computer. It was one of those dial-tune jobs, that required safecracker skills to pick up a decent signal. Twin Peaks aired at around midnight on Saturday nights in BBC2 - WAY past my bedtime. I thus used to sneak into the spare room to watch each week’s episode, while my parents doubtless dozed on the sofa downstairs. The first 2 seasons of the show are amongst my very favourite episodes of TV. Ever. I was particularly drawn to the setting - a sleepy town in the foothills of the Cascades mountains, surrounded by dark green forested hills.
The drive out to North Bend is a fairly dull highway route, but the views of the mountains are pretty spectacular. The mercury is falling, we’re down to a frosty 2C when I arrive. My first stop is Twede’s Café, used as a filming location in the show as the Double R - the diner that features in most episodes. It’s not quite the time of day for Cherry Pie, so satisfy myself with some breakfast. It’s fairly surreal to be sat here.
News from back home, that my awesome Twin is unwell. He’s in hospital, awaiting the results from tests. He updates me while I eat to let me know it’s some kind of virus or infection, and he’s been sent home to ‘keep an eye on it.’ Not the very helpfulest of advice, but I guess it means his Drs think it’s unlikely he’s imminently going to kark it. He’s feeling better, but still a little peaky. MY TWIN IS PEAKY. TWIN PEAKY. Kismet.
15:30
From North Bend, I head out to Snoqualmie, which instantly becomes one of my favourite place names. It’s named for the indigenous people of the same name, and is a stunning part of the world. I’m here to see Snoqualmie Falls, which featured in the intro credits to Twin Peaks, and next to which the Great Northern Hotel was based. The building that served as the Great Northern is called the Salish Lodge. Looking up to the falls and Salish Lodge from the hiking trail that runs alongside the river is giving me the feels. Just beautiful…
I head North, towards the Cascades, stopping briefly at the Roadhouse, another Twin Peaks staple. The drive to the mountains is beautiful. I’ve set the GPS to avoid highways, and instead, cruise along single lane roads. There’s an invigorating freshness in the air, and the sun’s trying to emerge from behind thick cloud. The jagged peaks I saw from 40 miles away are looming ever closer. I stop at the Wallace Falls National Park, and take a short hike around the forest. Stunning.
Back in the car, I aim for the city. It’s around 60 miles, and takes a little over an hour and a half. I’m back at the car hire office just before 15:00. My chariot today has been a monster of a thing - a Jeep Grand Cherokee, with a hunking great V8 engine. All kinds of fun to drive, but the visit to the gas station to fill up makes me wince. I’ve averaged around 19-20mpg, and have hardly been hooning it around.
I feel in the mood for some refreshment, so head to Locust - a cider brewery near the harbour. They have a ‘Pub Dry’ apple cider which is delicious, so much so that I order a second…
21:30
From the harbour, I head up towards Pike Place, ostensibly on the hunt for some food. The car hire has taken much of my budget for today, so am planning to grab some groceries, and eat in my apartment this evening. On my way to a cool looking grocery store / deli, I happen upon a very funky taproom called Old Stove. Figuring that it would be rude not to, I park up on their terrace, which overlooks the harbour, and order their in-house dry cider, which is magnificent. So much so, that….
The skies darken, and there’s some patchy rain about. The lights over the harbour come alive, including on the ferris wheel at the water’s edge, and in the distance the Seattle Seahawks’ stadium. It’s very pretty.
At the deli, I grab a carton of a very tasty sounding broccoli and blue cheese soup, along with some bread and a couple of ciders. The soup and bread combo is fantastic, but leaves me a little sleepy. Not long after 21:00, and I’m readying for bed. Early start tomorrow to head to Minneapolis. Onwards, to Minnesota!Läs mer
Day 3 - Grunge Bob Square Pants
20 november 2024, Förenta staterna ⋅ ☁️ 8 °C
13:30
I wake a few times during the night, and am pretty confused. The first couple of times, just because it feels like morning, but is still the middle of the night. Pretty standard jet-lag stuff. Around 02:00, I wake up, and (stupidly) check my phone. I have a message from Andrew, one of my Dad’s old neighbours, and who has very kindly been keeping half an eye on Dad’s empty house while we sort out probate for his estate. There’s an alarm going off inside the house. Now - 02:00 for me, is 10:00 back home, so it’s not a weird, middle-of-the-night type thing - at least, not back in the UK. Andrew has a key to the house, so generously offers to investigate. It transpires the smoke alarm batteries are running out, and are shouting about it. I ping Sals, who’s on the case, and try to go back to sleep. Predictably, I struggle. My body, after all, thinks it’s 10:00. I do manage a few hours more of scratchy sleep, but by 06:00, I’m wide awake. C’est la vie.
Today’s moving day. Would have been time to grab my train this afternoon, but instead it’s to different accommodation in the city. I asked at CitizenM about extending my stay, but they wanted $250 per night for Wednesday and Thursday. Given I paid $130 per night when I originally booked, that feels way too steep. I’ve found a serviced apartment complex up near Pike’s Place which looks great, and is coming in at around $100 per night. I’m sure it’ll do.
It turns out there’s been a cyclone overnight. What the media locally are calling a ‘bomb’ cyclone, which is a new one to me. I think it’s just a butch way of saying ‘storm.’ It’s not hit Seattle too badly, but just an hour to the South, there are power lines down, and a couple of fatalities. Further to the South, in Oregon and Northern California, it’s a bit of a clusterfuck. Many mudslides, lots of flooding. I suspect this is why my train got cancelled.
I’m not really feeling breakfast, so get packed, check out and leave my bags for the day. I grab a coffee nearby, and then jump on a bus towards Memorial Stadium. I love getting buses in a new city. Other than walking around, I think it’s the best way to familiarise myself with the geography of a place.
I’m really excited for this morning. I’m taking a slightly off-the-wall tour of famous Seattle grunge spots - rehearsal spaces, gig venues, and very sadly, a bunch of suicide locations. I don’t think it’s particularly controversial to suggest that the early to mid-teen years can be a massively shaping time in a young person’s life. I got into grunge music in 1991, watching MTV on a family holiday to Cornwall, and seeing/hearing Pearl Jam and Nirvana for the first time. There was something about the combination of dirty guitar sounds, melodic minor key music, and angst ridden lyrics that just chimed with who I was at the time. It was also the first time I developed what I’d consider my own taste in music. Until then, I’d largely co-opted whatever music was playing around the house. I grew up with my parents’ taste in music, and I think I was pretty lucky that this featured the likes of Fleetwood Mac, The Police, Blondie. A guitar kid, I definitely was. Hearing and falling in love with grunge music was the development of my own musical identity, and I listen to old grunge albums regularly to this day.
Seattle was the epicentre of the grunge musical movement. Most of the best and best known bands either originated here, or moved here to be part of and close to the movement. Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Mudhoney, Dinosaur Junior, Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots - all based out of Seattle. As my sister, Sals, will doubtless painfully attest, I listened to these bands on heavy rotation through most of my teenage years, and though more recently it’s more sporadic, it remains a style of music that moves me, and is incredibly evocative.
I meet my guide, Charity, next to the Museum of Pop Culture. Today, she’s accompanied by her husband, Jeremy. He would have been working today, but power outages at this place of work have meant he’s at a loose end, so is joining us. As we set off, Charity’s straight into voiceover mode, pointing out bars, gig venues, apartment blocks that all have some kind of resonance with the grunge scene. We stop at Kerry Park - ostensibly because of an album cover that was photographed here. The views back over the city centre are stunning. On a clearer day, Mount Rainier would be visible in the distance. It’s a little overcast, so the view is ‘limited’ to the cityscape, but it’s breathtaking nonetheless.
We make a few more pitstops in the city centre - Jeff Ament’s (Pearl Jam’s bassist) apartment, Layne Staley (Alice In Chain’s vocalist) apartment, where he sadly overdosed, a couple of places where Jimi Hendrix hung out as a kid. As music cities go, Seattle has one hell of a heritage.
We head up to Volunteer Park to the Black Sun sculpture, the inspiration for Soundgarden’s seminal track Black Hole Sun. There’s an incredible view over towards the city and the Space Needle. We cruise over to the East of Seattle, to a view over to Bellevue and Redmond (where Microsoft is based) to visit Kurt Cobain’s home, where he sadly took his own life.
That angst I mentioned earlier? It’s ridden through the history of grunge music. As a music scene, it was heavily associated with drug use, and particularly heroin. Surely not coincidentally, there’s also a massively high incidence of suicide.
All in, we spend 3 hours cruising around the city. Chatting away to 2 similarly minded grunge enthusiasts while seeing some of these so significant places is a treat. I’m joyful, but saddened, I reminisce, I long for a modern musical emotion that comes to close…
Charity and Jeremy drop me at Central Saloon, back in the Pioneer Square neighbourhood that’s been my home for the past couple of days, and also the location of Nirvana’s first gig in Seattle. I grab a couple of beers and some food. My decision to forego breakfast earlier means I’m properly peckish. Some wings and a big bowl of tater tots satiates me.
16:00
My new digs aren’t far away from CitizenM, but it’s uphill all the way. Deciding that discretion is the better part of valour, I jump on a bus. I bought a bus day-pass earlier, so may as well make use of it.
Check-in time is 16:00 at The Oxford, and I head there around 14:30 to drop my suitcase, so I can head out for a wander. It transpires my apartment is ready for me, so I can check in straightaway. My apartment is great! Really reminds me of Ace Hotel in New York. Comfy but cool. I briefly consider a nap, but I’m actually not feeling too sleepy today. I crack open a fantastic bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon - coincidentally from a vineyard we visited in California a couple of years ago, and settle in for a little rest before heading out for the evening.
20:30
Here I am, congratulating myself on still being awake at 20:30, without having had a nap in the afternoon. This is progress. I’ve had a lovely afternoon. I write, I read, and I watch a movie.
Around 18:00, I head out. I’m not kidding myself. I’ll still be ready for bed at a distressingly early hour. Walking around the city centre at this time of night is a sobering experience. After offices start to close, homeless people outnumber those with homes by perhaps 2 to 1. According to Jeremy and Charity (earlier), this is now alarmingly common in cities across the US. Partly a post-COVID hangover, and partly a direct result of the inflation driven by the illegal Russian invasion of Ukraine. I don’t think there’s been a substantively different outcome in the US than elsewhere in the Western world. My experience is that homeless rates, the impact of poverty are seen equally across Europe, and specifically within the UK. It’s clearly new and quite different for folks in the US. I’ll be interested to see if Minneapolis, a traditionally wealthy, middle-class city, feels the same.
I end up at a Sushi place I spotted yesterday, while wandering around the Pike’s Place Market neighbourhood. It wasn’t open when I walked past, but I was attracted by the simple wooden counter, and the straightforward description of their food. I wasn’t 100% sure they’d be open. They don’t have a website, and I could find next to no reviews of the place. I am SO glad I stopped in. The sushi is the best I’ve ever had. I’ve yet to make it to Japan - Vicki and I being cruelly denied our planned trip there in 2020, due to COVID. This is sensational fish though. The sashimi is amazing - 4 different kinds of fish, with hamachi being the standout. The nigiri are next level though. Where sashimi is the unadulterated, pure expression of the fish, nigiri allows a little more leeway. I order three - scallop, mackerel and eel. The scallop is delicious, and delicate. The eel is smoky and robust. The mackerel though - the fucking mackerel. It’s one of the best mouthfuls of food I’ve ever eaten. It’s been cured, but oh so everso slightly. The oiliness of the fish gives an incredible mouthfeel, and the pungent fishiness (not everyone’s cup of tea) is there throughout. It’s also the cheapest of the nigiri dishes. Banging fresh mackerel is one of my very favourite things. I wish more people agreed…
Around the corner is a ‘traditional’ Irish pub. So much of the time in the US, these are cookie-cutter versions of what some marketing department has decided is a traditional Irish pub. This place though, hits the high notes. I order a Guinness, because that’s what you do, and a Bushmills. I’m a little stunned when the cost of my round is $24, before any kind of tip. I determine it’s a one round stop, take my drinks outside, and people watch for a delightful half hour…
22:00
I’m conscious I’m writing more day-by-day than I would normally. I just have tons to say on this trip. Sometimes not, but this time around, that verbal diarrhoea I mentioned earlier…
Back at my apartment, and whilst it’s still early, it feels late. My body’s adapting, but slowly. I think a flight two hours to the East on Friday should just about kill any remaining jet-lag.
Here’s hoping…Läs mer
Day 2 - The Emerald City
19 november 2024, Förenta staterna ⋅ ⛅ 9 °C
14:20
I sleep until a little before 05:00. Early, but not disastrously so. I’ve had around 7 hours, and that’ll definitely do for the day. I spend some time finalising and booking my replanned travel for the next couple of days. I’ve got another place in Seattle booked for Wednesday and Thursday nights, a flight on Friday to Minneapolis, and a car hired for Thursday to head towards the mountains and Twin Peaks territory. I spend a little more time figuring out what to do today. Having more time in Seattle suddenly opens up more possibilities to me, to explore more of this lush and verdant city.
I head out around 07:30, and find the city all but empty. There’s very little traffic to speak of, few pedestrians on the streets. The morning is bright, with some sunshine poking through the cloud. It’s chilly. I’m glad of my hat, gloves and neck warmer. I walk along the waterfront, via the ferry port and a ton of waterside restaurants and retail outlets. There’s some kind of modernisation happening along the length of the waterfront. Loads of construction that somewhat tarnishes the otherwise pretty view across the bay.
From here, I head uphill in the direction of the Space Needle, that massively characteristic feature of the Seattle skyline. Several different folks (including the late, great Anthony Bourdain) have recommended the Five Points Café, and I stop in there for some breakfast. Half diner / half all-night bar, it’s a very cool place to spend time. Their motto appears to be ‘Don’t be a dick’ which very much aligns with my own, strongly held personal philosophy. The food features diner staples, and I have a delicious plate of Mexican chorizo with eggs, some corn tortillas and hash brown. It’s banging. It should be, at close to $20 - or more like $30 with coffee and a tip - but it should keep me going for most of the day, so offers decent value. I’ve read that food generally is pretty pricey in Seattle, and I’m struggling so far to find cheap diners for breakfast, and budget options for dinner.
It’s a short walk from here over to the Chihuly Glass Expo, in the shadow of the Space Needle. I’m a little early for the 10:00 opening time of the exhibition, so take a walk around the aptly named Seattle Center neighbourhood. The Space Needle itself is a striking edifice. It was built for the 1962 World’s Fair, that was held in Seattle. It must have looked incredibly futuristic 60 years ago when it was first opened to the public. Next door is the Museum of Pop Culture, and incredible piece of architecture, and which looks completely different depending on the angle from which one admires it. Further down the street is a frankly underwhelming fountain. It’s cradled in a huge crater, but the fountain itself takes up only a small portion of it. Having seen the crater before the water feature, I was expecting a little more.
The Chihuly exhibition is staggering. Dale Chihuly is a native Washingtonian, from Tacoma - a little to the South of Seattle. He’s perhaps the world’s foremost modern exponent of glass artistry. I was turned onto his work by my good buddy, Andy, a little earlier this year, and have been hugely looking forward to visiting this permanent exhibition. The work on display is breathtaking. I can’t begin to fathom the skills it takes to create some of the exhibits. There’s something about glass artistry that I find particularly appealing. I think it’s because of the headlong combination of artistic vision, and technical skill. I spend an amazing hour wandering around the various displays. As I go to leave, I realise there’s an entire garden featuring more of the glasswork. Mind-blowing.
I head back in the general direction of the waterfront, and my hotel. Seattle’s fairly straightforward to navigate. Much like many US cities, it features a grid-based ‘block’ road and street system. I know roughly where I wanna get to, so just head off in that general direction. I’m aiming for Pike’s Place Market, the central food market of the city. I pat myself on the back as I pitch up at the North end of the market. There’s some incredible food on display. Some of the seafood looks amazing. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually been up close to a whole halibut before. They’re HUGE. I find myself wishing I had accommodation with a kitchen, so I could cook up a seafood storm while I’m in town… I pass by a creamery, where the team are making fresh cheese. I try a couple of samples. They’re good - the blue cheese is very good. Amongst the food stalls and shops are countless food outlets and restaurants. I’ll plan to head back here one evening while I’m in town for a bit more of a foodie tour. I pass by the Gum Wall. Yes - literally what it sounds like. People have for years left their chewed gum on this wall, in a form of weird living art.
I grab a few groceries and continue back to my hotel. My early awake is catching up with me, and I feel ready for a nap…
19:00
I read my book for a while, but my eyes quickly become heavy. I set an alarm for 90 minutes’ time, and am quickly in the land of zizz. I next awake nearly 3 hours later. I have NO idea if my alarm went off, and I didn’t hear it, or it went off and I turned it off in my sleep, or it didn’t go off at all. All I know is that it’s dark outside now, and I’ve slept through a chunk of the afternoon. It’s no great shakes. I didn’t have anything firm fixed for this afternoon. I should probably get dressed, and head out for some dinner…
22:00
I managed to drag my ass out for a walk, and some dinner. Cold, with a biting wind, and persistent rain. I loved it. So much so, that I walked straight past the bar I’d earmarked for a beer+bite, and continued walking 10 minutes in the other direction just to enjoy walking in the rain. Seattle is similar to many US cities, in that few people tend to live in the central downtown areas. As I wander around at 20:00, there are very few people on the streets, and most bars/restaurants I walk past are quiet. Sure, it’s a Tuesday - but still. I head into a dive bar called Underbelly, and order a beer. There’s a local brewery called Reuben’s, run by a Brit who emigrated 20 years ago. Their Crikey IPA is a great drop. As I order a second, and a grilled cheese sandwich, a jazz band starts up. I’m not a huge lover of freeform Jazz, but the band are tight, and it’s quite a pleasant aural backdrop. Sat next to me is a slightly strange looking guy. He’s got his AirPods in, and is singing along at quite significant volume to what I think is a Sonic Youth album, whilst making his way through 4 Vodka Martinis per hour.
The grilled cheese is awesome. Cheese on toast x a million. After my 3rd beer, I figure I’ve got close enough to a reasonable bedtime to call it quits for the day.Läs mer
Day 1 - I've been here before...
18 november 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 7 °C
US and Canada - October 2024
Day 1 - I’ve been here before
08:55
I’m not sure there are all that many exit ports from the UK this year where I CAN’T say that I’ve been here before. In this instance, ‘here’ is an early morning National Express coach, whisking (ish) me to Heathrow for a flight Westwards to the US. This trip is scratching several itches:
1) I’ve long wanted to visit the Pacific North West generally, and Seattle specifically.
2) You’ll have noted, if you’re a regular reader, that I’m a big fan of travel by train, and during this trip, I’ll take some doozies. In the US, through the Rockies, from Seattle to Minneapolis, and in the Canada, from Winnipeg across the plains to Toronto.
3) Somewhere in my family tree is some Canadian ancestry. I’m not embarking on some intrepid search for long lost cousins, but that somewhat tenuous link has always left me intrigued by this vast, but sparsely populated country.
A few months ago, I had genuine concerns about the post-election state of of the US, and wondered whether I’d see civil unrest in the wake of a (fingers crossed, touch wood, with a fair wind etc etc) Harris victory. Whilst the eventual outcome no doubt makes my journey safer and more straightforward, I can’t pretend I’m not hugely disappointed to be travelling to a country that has re-elected Trump. Happily, the states in which I’m spending any real time (Washington, Minnesota) both voted heavily for Harris. I am, however, passing through Montana, Idaho and North Dakota - states that voted for Trump by an average of 30 points. I’ve visited the US several times in the past 18 months, to various parts of the country, and will visit again - to New York in June next year for my beloved Twin’s 50th. I’ll be interested to see whether my experience during the transition period and my experience next year are much different.
I’m also looking forward to some properly cold weather. As I write this, a heavy snowstorm is swinging into Minnesota, and I’ll likely see more than a little snow along my way. Packing has been, well - interesting. Most of my trips this year have involved shorts, sleeveless t-shirts and bandannas. Today, I’m transporting trousers, hoodies, fleeces, gloves and hats. I’ve been warned (Thanks Em!) that Winnipeg will be both incredibly cold, and shit. Strangely, this just makes me all the more excited to visit…
The coach is much busier than my trip to the US earlier this year. Looking back at my journal, I can see that I travelled on a Thursday, and somewhat later - around 11:15, rather than the 08:!5 coach I’ve gone for this morning. We’ve just arrived at Gatwick South, and there’s a lot of people boarding. Hope none of them want to sit next to me…
11:50
I’d forgotten what travelling solo was like, when it comes to writing. Actually, that’s bollocks. Of course I haven’t ‘forgotten.’ It’s just been a few months, and I’m rapidly rediscovering the joy of it as a writer. For me, it means capturing my experiences and sense in the moment (or very nearly), and invariably having better recollection of what I’ve done/am doing. For you guys, it means more of a verbal diarrhoea experience, so apologies in advance. Is it verbal diarrhoea if you’re typing the words?
Coach was a breeze. Arrived into Heathrow T3 on time, and the coach driver didn’t smell of cat piss this time (see May entry) - so a win/win kinda situation. T3 remains shit. Dark, dingy, low ceilings, idiots everywhere. Progress through security is slow, and it’s very nearly an hour to get from the bus station to the departure lounge bar. My usual pit-stop at T3 is The Curator, but there’s a sizeable queue for a table. I opt instead for Spuntino, a sort of diner style slice of Americana on the far side of the terminal. It is not good. I have a crab mac and cheese containing pasta that is woefully overcooked, and more crab shell than crab meat. I ask for a spicy Bloody Mary, and what arrives is magma hot. Hope this doesn’t come back to bite me mid-flight…
17:25
Much on which to catch up. Firstly - I’m in Seattle! It’s cold, and raining. Exactly what I’d hoped for / expected.
The flight was pretty dull. I’m too well rested at the moment to need much in the way of daytime sleep. I started watching a couple of movies on the in-flight entertainment, but nothing really grabbed me. I read for a while, tried to nap, watched a bit of TV on my tablet. Doesn’t matter how you skin it - 10 hours is a bunch of time to be sat on your own on an aeroplane. I briefly consider getting heavily stuck into the red wine, but I don’t really do that on flights anymore. I’m also not convinced turning up to Customs and Immigration at the US border half-cut, and with purple stains all over my t-shirt would have been a good look.
Weirdly. I see two sunsets. We take off around 13:30, and head pretty much due North towards the Arctic, before bearing left slightly, and flying across the northern reaches of Canada. The first sunset seems to last forever - at least a couple of hours, as we fly westwards. The second takes me by surprise. We land a little after 15:00, and the sky is darkening over Seattle. It’s a fresh 4C, and our pilot warns us of rain and sleet over the coming days. Booya!
Immigration at Seattle is a cakewalk. I’m marching towards the train station only 30 minutes after we land. There’s a direct train that takes me to Pioneer Square, where my hotel can be found. The train’s clean, quick, and quiet - until some crazy dude starts shouting and swearing at all of the other passengers. I can’t really make out what he’s angry about, but he’s pretty upset, whatever it is. We pull into one of the city centre stations, and 7-8 transit cops board the train to escort Captain crazy off the train. It doesn’t matter how long I spend in the US - whenever I hear or see a disturbance like this, my mind immediately thinks of firearms. I’ve spent a ton of time in the States, and in that time, I don’t think I’ve seen a single person brandishing a weapon (police excepted, of course), and yet, it’s my instinctive reaction.
As I exit the train station, there’s a light sleet starting to fall. It’s only a 400m trot to my hotel, but I kinda wish I’d used the train journey to dig my gloves and hat out of my suitcase.
I’m quickly checked in, and into my quirky little home for the next couple of nights. I have the most sensational view over the bay. I check my email, and find a festering turd of a message waiting for me. Amtrak have cancelled my train from Seattle to Minneapolis. This leaves me pretty much fucked. I was due to spend 2 nights on the train, so now need to find alternative accommodation. I also need to find another means of transport from here to there. Just to be clear, it’s about 2,000 miles. It’s roughly the same distance as London to Athens.
I briefly consider hiring a car, but quickly reject the idea. I’ve only really got 2 days to get the journey done, and I don’t fancy 15 hours of driving per day. I’m also not convinced the driving conditions over the Rockies are gonna be spectacular fun. There’s a bus option, which would at least allow someone else to do the driving. It would be a far cry from my comfy little one person bedroom on the train though. Sadly, I think I’m booking a last minute flight, spending an extra day/night in Seattle (not a hardship) and an extra day/night in Minneapolis (also not a hardship). I’m pissed off though, as the train ride through the Rockies is one of the cornerstones around which I’ve built this entire trip. Had I realised Amtrak were gonna be such fuckwits about it, I’d have started in Vancouver, and taken the train to WInnipeg, before hopping over the border to Minneapolis, and continuing the journey eastwards through the US.
Still, I’m not gonna get too het up by it. I’ve got the plains train from Winnipeg to Toronto to look forward to, and a little on-the-hoof reorganisation aside, it’s no great shakes.
19:30
The upside of my Amtrak cancellation is that the need to rapidly redesign my trip somehow made me forget that my body thinks it’s 2 in the morning. I asked Vicks earlier whether she thought I should have a quick nap on arrival at the hotel, or just push through as late as possible. Definitely the latter, she reckoned. I have previous though. Must be 10-12 years ago, I was on a work trip to Minneapolis, ‘only’ 6 hours behind UK time. I got to my …
Tuaca! Hold please.
Well, that’s a pleasant surprise. Kristi (you better believe she told me how to spell it) says that this bottle has been here as long as she’s worked at the bar I’m in. She has no information about how it ended up there. Obviously, it would be rude not to.
Anyways, I got to my Minneapolis. hotel, and decided I was gonna do my utmost to stay awake as late as possible, in the hope that it would help reset my jet lag more quickly. I sat on a high bar stool, foolishly thinking the homo erectus nature of my seating would help keep my eyes open. Nah - the barman had to wake me up, after I feel very fast asleep in the upright position, somewhere around 7pm. And I was still wide awake at 2am the following morning. I hope, I desperately hope that staying up that bit later, and knocking myself out with a sleeping tablet will do the trick….
I’m sitting in an archetypal American bar. U-shaped bar, at which sit several categories of bar-fly. Think Cheers, but with West coast accents. I’m not entirely sure if I’m hungry or not when I arrive, so sit down with a beer to figure it out. The food emerging from the kitchen looks great though, so I grab a steak salad. These kinds of American salads are great - hefty chunk of very tasty and well cooked red meat, some blue cheese, with a bunch of salad leaves and a dressing. Oh, and topped with some crispy fried onions. I’m not sure it’d win any Weight Watchers ‘recipe of the month’ prizes, but it’s delicious.
21:00
Holy shit! I’m genuinely a little staggered to have made it to 21:00 without falling asleep. Is it possible that the key to beating jetlag is just not to be dog tired when you set off on your travels?Läs mer
Day 22 - Homeward bound...
19 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C
13:45
Our cunning plan worked. Vicki slept largely uninterrupted until nearly 08:00, and for a total of more than 9 hours. I’ve not done too badly. I’ve been awake since 06:00, but don’t feel like I’m way down on sleep. Just for shits and giggles, I have a quick look to see if my GP can fit me in this week to prescribe some meds for my chest. No, not a chance. 31st October is the earliest they’ll admit to. I’ll give them a call Monday to see if they can manage a phone appointment before then.
Vicks and I breakfasted, packed and ready to go a little ahead of our departure time of midday. We head down to the reception at our hotel, and see pretty heavy rain outside. We’ve been so lucky with the weather during our trip. On a couple of occasions, rains have settled in just as we’re leaving somewhere. Iguazu aside, we’ve not really been rained on much, and way, WAY better than I’d have guessed before our departure. I’m sad to be leaving Sao Paulo. Your mileage may vary, but I’ve found it a city draped in modern culture, exciting architecture and cool food. Rio definitely has a *cooler* feel to it, but I’d like to come back to Sao Paulo to explore some more of this behemoth megacity.
Traffic is S-L-O-W on the way to the airport, in part due to the rain I guess. Sao Paulo definitely has a traffic problem. All of our journeys around town have been lethargic. There’s also some fairly agricultural driving on display, to which we’ve grown accustomed during our trip. I metaphorically pat myself on the back when I lean over to the driver, and say, “Bem Venido a Brazil, sim?” He laughs. I’ve nearly cracked this Portuguese thing after all…
The airport is wickedly efficient. It takes us about 20 minutes from cab drop-off to departure lounge, which for a major international airport is sensational. We find ourselves a bar and set up camp. I grab myself a decent bottle of Cachaca to take home. It’s $80, but I’ve read good things about it. I’ll use it both as a basis for Caipis, and as a sipping spirit. I grab some coffee as well. The coffee we’ve had during our trip has pretty much universally been great. Much of the Sao Paulo economy was founded on coffee in the 19th century, and I’m looking forward to a decent espresso once we get home…
15:30
And so, here we are. Boarded, and about to fly home. The flight’s about 60% full, and we’re going to leave a little ahead of schedule. I’m sad to be leaving Brazil. I’ve really fallen for its energy and style. I’ll be back for sure. I want to visit Rio during Carnival, and would very much like to explore the North of the country, on the coast, and down into the Amazon basin. The surest tests of how much I’ve enjoyed a trip are the answers to two questions:
1) Would I return, and
2) Would I recommend it to others
The answer to both is a resounding yes.Läs mer
Day 21 - Holy Graffiti, Batman!
18 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 28 °C
18:45
A side effect of the chest infection I’ve been enjoying for the past 10 days is a snore that rivals the chainsaw of the lumberyard. I’ve been an intermittent snorer for much of the past 10 years, but it tends to be when I’m flat on my back. Right now, I’m snoring when I’m sleeping on my back, on either side - I suspect also if I was standing up. This interferes with Vicki’s sleeping quite significantly. She’s very gentle, bless her - but necessarily pokes me to wake me up if I’m keeping her awake. A couple of nights ago, I stayed awake for an hour or thereabouts, to give her enough time to fall into a deep enough sleep that I wouldn’t disturb her. Last night, I just gave up on sleep at around 05:00, to let her get some decent rest. We’re both a little jaded this morning though.
I’ve grown thoroughly bored of being ill. I’ve been crocked in some way, shape or form for most of the past 3 weeks. I suspect I now need antibiotics to clear the infection, but will have to wait until I’m back in the UK to remedy it fully. I’ve managed to get by day-to-day, but it’s left me feeling underpowered and a bit washed out for much of our trip. I’ve been reluctant to give in to it though. Today, with a lack of sleep, I can feel that I’m tetchy, but I’ll do my best to hide it.
We head out for our 11:00 walking tour, over in the Pinheiros neighbourhood. This is a bit of a hipster hangout - loads of cool coffee places, bars, restaurants, along with a healthy dollop of street art. We’re in quite a big group - around 15 or so. It’s difficult not to compare the tour to the amazing experience Vicki and I had in Brooklyn last November. The art on display is every bit as good as Brooklyn, but is spread out over a far greater area, and its impact is a little muted as a result. We hear from our guide about the history of the Pinheiros and Madelina neighbourhoods, the birth of street art in Brazil, and about the systemic racism that endures across Brazil to this day. Much of the art was borne out of political protest, and it’s only in the past five years that urban art has been decriminalised.
We end the tour at Batman Alley - named in part for the eponymous superhero, murals of whom adorn many of the walls around here, and in part because of the many species of bat that fly around the streets from dusk onwards. It’s a very cool little area. By the end of the tour, we’re all ready for a cold drink. The mercury’s pushing 30C today, and we’ve been in the sun for much of the past couple of hours.
Recharged, we head to Hotel Unique, which is a swanky and cool 5 star joint. It was featured in the second series of Race Across the World, as one of the rest stops for the contestants along the way. Its architectural design is very cool - somewhat resembling a boat. The rooftop terrace has some good views over the city, but doesn’t quite shock and awe us as others I’ve visited this year. I do have a sensational cocktail called a Bem Brazil - aged Cachaca with pistachio liqueur, lemon juice and passion fruit. Tam has a Negroni, as a tilt of the hat to my wonderful Uncle Peter (her Dad), and Vicki has an awesome looking Virgin Pina Colada.
The weather is changeable today. By 15:00, it’s overcast, a breeze is getting up, and the skies threaten rain. We decide an afternoon rest is in order, and agree to meet later for dinner.
22:30
Managed to book a table at 20:00 at a cool sounding place about 10 mins walk from our hotel. Coming back to Sao Paulo has been a reminder that there is a lot of street crime, but we’re not as anxious about it as we were on arrival into Rio, and we feel perfectly safe walking the 700m to the restaurant.
It’s a busy, buzzy place, called Bar Da Dona Onca. I’m sure the name has a cool meaning, but in my head, it simply means ‘The Bar of Good Things.’ The food is described as traditional Brazilian, with a modern twist. We’re all one or two steps up from peckish, as we’ve not eaten since breakfast. Vicki and i share a steak tartar dish, and a very cool reinterpretation of Korean chicken Bao to start - both are excellent. Mains are also triumphant - Mozzarella ravioli for Vicks, and a chicken rice dish for me that sits squarely between Italian Risotto, and Creole Jambalaya. Tamsin has a langoustine ravioli dish, which looks and smells amazing. Our dinner takes the prize as the most expensive we’ve had on our trip, but we all agree that it was top notch, and great value. We briefly consider a nightcap as we pass by several fun looking bars on the way back to our hotel. I feel like I’ve had enough though, and am ready for sleeps. Vicki and I have a cunning plan to avoid snoring issues tonight. Wish us luck…Läs mer
Day 20 - Bem venido a Sao Paulo.
17 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C
13:55
Some good sleeps all around, and we’re bundled into our car to head back to Floripa for our flight up to Sao Paulo. Vicks has kindly offered to sit in the front seat for the 2 hour journey, as I’ve borne the brunt of trying to communicate with our various drivers over the past couple of weeks. This is a bonus, as it means I have less of a constant view of our driver’s driving style. It is, at best, erratic. At worst, it’s pretty fucking dangerous. His favourite trick is cruising up behind the bumper of another car on the highway, then sitting a couple of feet from their bumper until they move out of the way. Thankfully, no one brake-tests him. The traffic is pretty heavy in places, but it’s a pleasant enough journey.
I think I mentioned in a previous post that Florianopolis Airport is v cool, and spending more time here only confirms that. It’s both literally and figuratively cool, and highly efficient. We’re pretty much the only people as we head through security. The departure lounge is spacious, and has lots of seating/eating options. This is just as well, as our flight is delayed - initially by 25 minutes, then 40 minutes, and currently 55 minutes. Fingers crossed it stays where it is…
We’re collectively not quite sure how to prepare ourselves for Sao Paulo. It comes with many of the same health and safety warnings as Rio, so we’ll need to remind ourselves to be extra cautious. It’s also massive. Like, properly huge. The central city’s population is around 11.5 million, but the greater Sao Paulo area (think Greater London) has a population of very nearly 23 million. That’s 3 times the size of London. By any metric, it’s one of the biggest cities on the planet, and we have but 36 hours to get to know it. It’s also (and I hope not to offend any Paulistans here…) less charismatic than Rio. Sao Paulo is known as a financial and political powerhouse, and has less of a reputation for fun times than Rio. I’m sure there’s more than enough to fill a few days of exploring, but due to the intentional brevity of our stay, we’ll need to be a little more selective…
19:30
Things did not progress brilliantly. I get a message from the car service meeting us in Sao Paulo to let me know they can’t wait to meet our delayed flight, as booking.com did not record the booking as an airport pick-up. I query this, as the pick-up point is AT the airport. There’s nothing the can do though. I briefly try booking.com's customer services chat feature, but grow to want to punch the screen. Our flight’s about to board, so we’ll just have to figure out a transport option when we get Congonhas airport.
I actually manage to sleep most of the flight. Certainly helps pass the time effectively. We land around an hour late. Deplaned, we make our way to baggage reclaim, and - nothing. Our flight is shown on one of the luggage carousels. We wait (im)patiently. 20 minutes pass. Our flight disappears from the screen. There’s a murmuring among the crowd. It doesn’t look like any baggage is being delivered to any of the carousels. I ask a member of GOL staff where the bags are. I’m met with a dismissive shrug. Apparently it’s not their fault, and that’s all that matters. It’s hot in the airport, and it’s getting increasingly crowded as more flights arrive, and their passengers await their bags. Around 70 minutes after landing, our bags finally emerge, and we make our way to the Uber pick-up point. A couple of drivers accept our trip, then cancel after we’ve been waiting for 5 minutes. My blood is slowly beginning to boil. A driver finally picks us up, and we proceed to take 45 minutes to drive 6 miles. I suspect Sao Paulo traffic is bad at all times of day. but we’re bang in the middle of rush hour. There’s some artistic driving on display, and i’m stunned not to see more motorcyclists knocked to the ground, so aggressively do they weave in and out of traffic.
We arrive to our hotel a little after 19:00, check-in and make our way to our room. The window is broken, and won’t close. FFS. The helpful hotel staff move us to another room which is fine. None of these things in isolation are a particularly big deal, but the litany of speed-bumps across the day has added up. We head out in search of Caipis and food.
21:45
There’s a beautiful little street opposite our hotel lined with bars and restaurants, and we park ourselves on the terrace of one of them. Tamsin and I each have a massively deserved and needed Caipirinha, before sharing a decent bottle of white. The food is really good. Vicki and Tam both have fish, and I have a veal dish, cooked in a Madeira sauce. The temperature’s pleasant, but cool. I’d not realised Sao Paulo is almost 1,000m above sea level, and so it’ll feel a good few degrees cooler than Rio does by the coast. We’re all knackered after what’s felt like a loooooong day’s travel. Bed time for us.Läs mer
Day 19 - Blumen’eck
16 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
22:00
Slightly irritatingly, we wake up to azure skies and broad rays of sunshine. It’s a bus for us this morning, up to Blumenau. It’s a c. 3h30m ride. It’s the kind of bus journey that I think of as a cakewalk when I’m travelling on my own, but I worry it might test my travelling companions. Our cab picks us up at 09:45, and we’re at the bus station in plenty of time.
The coaches in Brazil are pretty plush. Lots of legroom, lots of recline. In a couple of ways, this excursion has been inspired by watching Race Across the World. In the second series, a couple ended up in Blumenau for a night’s work at the Oktoberfest, and we just thought it looked like a crackers kinda fun place to go. Equally, those series that have included South America have majored on coach travel as a way of getting around. Now, admittedly, that’s typically overnight, and as a means of avoiding accommodation costs. We briefly considered an overnight ride - largely for the experience, but decided against. So this is to be our one and only coach journey while we’re in Brazil.
Things start poorly. Vicki and I are in the second row. A lady sat directly in front of me has boarded before us, and immediately reclined her seat ALL the way back. What a dick. We’re not sure how busy the bus is going to be, so I’m stuck with her for the time being. There’s so much recline to the seats that it’s actually tricky to get in and out of my seat. I say again - what a dick.
The bus leaves on time, and stops at a couple of places on the way out of Florianopolis. This is our first chance to see mainland part of the city, which is newer, and less pretty than the old town. We’re onto the highway soon enough, and the vivid green rainforest quickly becomes our main viewing. It’s incredible how much of Brazil remains covered by this vast canopy. I spend a joyful hour watching the world go by. The bus stops are infrequent, but do include the driver shutting off the engine, and thus the A/C. It’s a hot day today, and at one of the stops where we’re waiting around 10 minutes, it gets a little uncomfortable. We hit a couple of traffic jams, and are about 20 minutes late getting into Blumenau, for a total of nearly 4 hours. Regrouping with my colleagues, they’ve both found it a pleasant enough experience, but wouldn’t want to sign up for much more than this.
We dump our bags at our city centre hotel, and head straight for Oktoberfest. It is, in a word, crazy. It’s like a full-on Alpine town, rebuilt in the middle of Brazil. Most of the architecture would sit very comfortably in Austria, Switzerland or Southern Germany. I’d say around one in three people are wearing some kind of Alpine outfit, with plenty of folks in full-on lederhosen. Free entry was promised for those in traditional garb, but the entry price was around £2, so I’m not convinced that’s the reason…
There are a ton of beer outlets - fairly unsurprisingly, but we struggle to find drinks options for Tam and Vicki. Food options are a little thin on the ground as well. I manage to find a stall selling some pretty decent Spätzle - one of my favourite mountain lunches.
There are some decent bands on show - from the traditional ‘Oompah’ type affair, to a group doing some kind of line-dancing routine. The crowd are excited, and well into it. It’s a very happy atmosphere, and one of the great people watching opportunities of our trip. I buy myself an Oktoberfest beer mug. I’m not much of one for souvenirs, but I know this’ll get used a lot at home.
We’ve had a pretty long day, and by 21:00 we’re all flagging. We grab a cab back to the hotel, but are distracted by a crazy parade happening at the end of our street. We only catch the last ten minutes of it, but it’s bonkers. Weird float contraptions that wouldn’t look out of place in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but accompanied by thumping hard house. It really needs to be seen to be believed…Läs mer
Day 18 - Está chovendo.
16 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C
21:30
We wake to leaden skies. We’ve both slept well, but the weather is not going to be our friend today. We mooch for a couple of hours, and head out for brunch around 11:00. It’s trying to rain as we walk up to the road to our new favourite café. We sit outside (it’s covered), but as the rain starts to fall, it quickly becomes quite chilly. Breakfast is, however, a triumph. Vicki walks a mile in my shoes, ordering the Ovos Beneditinos that I so enjoyed yesterday, and declares them excellent. I branch off into a new field of research, and have a kind of hybrid between that Mexican breakfast staple, Huevos Rancheros, and a spiced Middle Eastern Shakshuka. It’s tremendous.
We get a little soggy on our walk back to the guesthouse, and make vague plans with Tam to head into Florianopolis later this afternoon. An afternoon of further mooching occurs.
We grab a cab around 16:00 into the city centre. Florianopolis is bigger than I’d realised - a population a little bigger than Manchester’s. We’re dropped off at the Catedral Metropolitano in yet more rain. It’s not particularly heavy, but it’s persistent. The church is very pretty, and has some particularly striking stained glass. There’s a shrine on one of the altars to a young man called Carlo Acutis, who tragically died at the age of 15 from Leukaemia. Once we’re out of the church (and feel it’s appropriate to use our phones) we discover that he has been beatified by the Catholic Church, typically the first step towards Canonisation. The church has also recognised two miracles performed by this kid, which looks set to assure his sainthood in the coming years.
We walk down through the Praca XV Novembro park, passing by the beautiful historical musueum of Santa Caterina, which is closed until Wednesday. The park has some of the coolest / strangest looking trees. There are some that are covered in parasitic plants that make them look like their roots are all above ground. There’s a tree that seems to have grown entirely outwards instead of upwards, with large branches close to the ground supported by metal frames.
We amble on to the central market, the hub of cuisine in the city. The fish stalls in particular are spectacular. Countless species I’m either unfamiliar with, or would not recognise on sight. We settle down for a beer at a bar on the periphery of the market, and people watch for a while…
We’re getting peckish, so head towards the bridge that connects this side of the city with the mainland. We’re at a Portuguese restaurant called Tabierna Iberica. The food is sublime. We have some garlic prawns and salt cod fritters to start. The fritters are the best version we’ve had on this trip - just brilliant. The prawns are delicious. The chef has used a mixture of toasted and roasted garlic rather than raw, and it pays off. Delicious. I have a braised rabbit dish for my main, which is outstanding. I wish rabbit was more widely available, and more widely eaten back home. It’s a fabulous meat when it’s cooked well. This is braised in red wine and tomato, and is a warm and comforting dish on an overcast day. Tam and Vicki share a MASSIVE baked cod dish - a giant slab of fish, covered with sliced potatoes and onions. I liken it to a potato boulangere, and I’m not far wrong. The bill is the biggest we’ve had so far on this trip, but for food of this quality, it’s great value. Just a sensational meal.
We jump in an Uber back to Campeche. Along the way, we see someone being arrested - there are perhaps 10 police cars and 20 officers for the arrest of one fairly innocuous looking guy in his 20s. We wander out loud whether this is a drug arrest, but our drivers thinks it’s more likely car theft. Seems like a bit of a big reaction for a joy-rider…
The rains have returned by the time we get back to our guesthouse, putting paid to any fleeting thoughts of heading out locally for a beer. We reason that tomorrow is moving day, we’ve packing to do etc etc.Läs mer
Day 17 - Full on fucking man-flu
15 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C
19:00
Vicki and I both sleep pretty well. Tam’s been awake since 04:00. She woke to the sound of something that sounded like murder being committed, but which she eventually decided was a very noisy bird of some description. Tam ventures out and finds a brilliant little café doing great things with bread and eggs. Vicks and I follow a little while behind her, and have a brunchy type affair - Ovos Beneditinos for me, Torrada de abacate com bacon for her. Massive nosh-bosh. I’m conscious though that my tastebuds are still a little dampened. I can definitely taste my food, but it’s not nearly as punchy as I’d have expected/hoped.
The weather’s not doing great things. Pretty overcast, with just a hint of rain kicking around. Vicki and I determine that the afternoon is best spent in a state of chill - reading, movies, muchos relax. I finish a book, and make a decent start on another. Vicki ploughs through something on Netflix, the name of which I forget, but which she seems to be enjoying. We make a brief foray to the nearest mercado for supplies. It’s pretty low grade stuff.
Around 16:00, I start to feel considerably worse. I have a fever coming back, I appear to have developed a chest infection, and I’m just massively lethargic, and not in a good way. I decide to bail on dinner. I’m neither hungry, nor have the energy for outside stuff.
Buggering tits.
23:30
Vicks generously brought me back a couple of slices of pizza. Dining happens late-ish in Brazil. Not quite the midnight of Spain, but typically 20:00 and later. Not at all unusual to see folks turning up for a meal at 22:00. We, on the other hand, have stuck to a fairly early eating pattern. As much as anything, it’s been useful not to over correct our jet-lag. Hopefully (!) means that the timeshift in the opposite direction won’t be too brutal. There’s nothing ultra-late-night that we’d planned to do while we’re here (with the possible exception of the Oktoberfest on Wednesday), so early rising / early bedding is working out well for us. All this is a long-winded way of saying that Tam and Vicks basically had the pizza place to themselves for their 19:00 dinner, but a few people had started to fill up the joint by the time they left…
Back at the ranch, I’ve been mixing it up big style. Some reading, some dozing, some persistent coughing - that type of shiz. I’m really desperately hoping that tomorrow is going to be a better day.
Apols. Camera didn't get much of an outing today. Here - look at our breakfast.Läs mer
Well I've come back with a serious case of Delhi belly. Day 2 of starvation!! [Boo]
Tim's TravelsI think I preferred the old colonial days, when it was called Bombay Bum...
Day 16 - Floripa!
13 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C
17:00
It’s just about possible that Florianopolis is my favourite name of a place I’ve ever travelled. It is, however, a bit of a mouthful, so the local folks have rebranded it as ‘Floripa’ for ease. Anyways, it’s our destination today, for a few days of beach, sunshine and relax. Our flight frustratingly was brought forward a couple of hours from its original time, so our journey involves an alarm at 06:00, and a Gabriel pick up at 07:45. Wowzies. I’ve had a better night’s sleep, and my cold finally, FINALLY *seems* to be abating. The airport is quiet. Ultra quiet in fact. I guess the holiday weekenders are headed out tomorrow?
The flight down is probably our best flight yet in Brazil. Seats are comfy, there’s lots of legroom, it’s not on GOL. It’s an up and down - only an hour or so in the air, and a really pleasant view down over the state of Santa Catarina. As we start to descend into Floripa airport, the sun looks warm and inviting. We’re actually headed to an island off the coast, called Ilha de Santa Catarina. The city of Florianopolis straddles the mainland and the island. The airport is (and this is going to sound a bit weird) one of my favourite airports ever. It’s just brilliant. Loads of space, cool areas to hang out, well laid out - all the good stuff. It’s a short drive to our guesthouse, which is lovely, and only a (long) stone’s throw from the beach.
Vicki and I head out for a wander, which turns into a hike. We need to work on our geography. We’re aiming for a supermarket that looks to be about 10 minutes on foot. 20 minutes later, we’ve been walking in the midday sun, and are conscious that we’re still not there yet. We dispatch ideas of supermarket shopping, and head instead for the beach. We seek shelter in a beach bar overlooking the sand and ocean. It’s idyllic. We order some drinks, then some more drinks and some food. The food’s ok. The Caipi is sensational though.
After lunch, we head down the beach. We could walk all the way back to our guesthouse along the beach, but choose instead to cut back up to the road. Entirely by accident, we end up in a rather lovely bar just back from the beach. Vicki has an affogato, while I dive into my 3rd Caipi of the day. Strictly speaking, 3 is the natural limit for Caipirinhas, so we move on after 1. From here, it’s a quick walk back to our digs, via a small bodega to grab some supplies - water and wine, basically. We bump into Tam at the store, and make some plans to head out for dinner later. Today feels like easy street…
23:00
A lazy afternoon, and we’re all set for dinner. After an earlier conflab, we elect to head up to the North of Ilha de Santa Catarina. There’s a large lagoon up there called Lagoa de Concecaio, with seafood restaurants dotted around its edge. We choose a restaurant called O Timoneiro, which translates to something like, ‘O Tim - thou art awesome.’ And cos it’s got great reviews, obvs. It’s a good 25 mins drive to the North of us, and we see (albeit in the dark) more of the island as we pass. There’s definitely a laid-back, surfer town kinda vibe. Lots of little wood-shack cafés, dusty roads and little in the way of built up areas. At one point, we pass something that resembles a night club. It’s Sunday, so that could be contributing to the sleepy feel.
O Timoneiro borders the lagoon, and we sit in a very peaceful spot by the water’s edge. We watch small crabs swimming in the water, and we realise this is the first time we’ve actually seen crabs swim. About 5 mouthfuls into my food (grilled white fish in a coconut sauce), I realise I can’t taste anything. Reflecting on the day, I come to the conclusion that things have been tasting a bit muted since I woke up this morning, but now - nothing. I soldier on, but grow bored pretty quickly. My wine tastes of nothing - I can pick up the acidity, but that’s it. I try a Halls menthol throat sweet, and - nothing. I’ve had colds a few times since the pandemic, and have lost of sense of taste and smell a couple of times without testing positive for COVID, so I’m gonna assume that’s what’s happening here. It’s a little strange that it’s happening as my cold FINALLY appears to be clearing up though.
We have what constitutes something of a late night for this trip, arriving back to our guesthouse a little after 22:00. Vicki and I are hoping for big sleeps. HOLD TIGHT FOR FEEDBACK.Läs mer
Day 15 - Iguazu Falls, Day 2
12 oktober 2024, Argentina ⋅ 🌙 22 °C
20:00
Our starts in Iguazu are getting progressively earlier. Gabriel picks us up at 08:30 wanting to beat the crowds today. It’s not only a Saturday, but also a public holiday weekend, and he’s a little worried about the number of people we’ll encounter along the way.
We start with the Macuco Safari - a ride into the jungle, a trek through the jungle, and finally a boat trip into the falls. The ride and trek are interesting enough, and it’s great to be in the rich vegetation, and surrounded by the noises of the rainforest.
The boat ride, however, is an exhilarating assault on the senses. We’ve brought dry clothes with us in the car today, as we’ve been told to expect that we’ll get wet on the boat ride, despite our waterproofs. The falls are about 4km upriver from us, and we set off at a relatively mundane pace. The speed picks up quickly though, and the pilot is having a lot of fun throwing us around the river. We suddenly arrive under the same falls that we saw from the cliff-side yesterday. Seeing them from down at water level is a surreal, but thrilling experience. Our pilot then navigates us into the waterfall. INTO. It’s an amazing sensation. We’re utterly covered in water, so much so that breathing becomes a little tricky on occasion. The water is cold, and powerful. We back out of the falls, and pretty much everyone in the boat is laughing at what they’ve just experienced. The pilot decides we deserve a second shower, and pushes even further into the falls. I manage to grab a couple of pics that *might* give an idea of what we’ve just done, but my phone largely spends the journey safely dry under my poncho.
Back at the pontoon, we inspect the damage/moistness. Our waterproofs have done pretty well, but there’s definitely some sogginess as well. We change what needs changing, and head further into the park.
Now, it’s probably fair to say that the most impressive falls are in Argentina, where we spent our day yesterday, but the best views of those falls are arguably from the Brazilian side. We marvel as we walk past ‘The Three Musketeers’ - the fall under which we’ve just been doused. The view up to the Devil’s Throat is sensational, just a once in a lifetime experience.
The only slight downside is the number of people visiting at the same time as us. Gabriel tells us that it’s much busier than a typical Saturday would be, as a result of the public holiday this weekend. The walkways are fairly narrow, and progress is slow. The pinnacle of the viewing experience is a walkway that protrudes right out over the canyon, in front of the Devil’s Throat. The views are mesmerising - the jostling and pushes from other people, less so. We try not to let this irritate us, and are largely successful in this endeavour. I really don’t know if the pictures I’ve taken will do justice to this behemoth of the natural world. I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever seen anything that has taken my breath away so emphatically. If you ever visit Iguazu, please PLEASE make sure you spend a good couple of days here. It would be tragic to miss either of the Argentinian or Brazilian sides of the falls.
Gabriel drops us back to our hotel a little before 14:00, and we head out for some lunch at a Lebanese place not far from the hotel. It’s tasty, if a little weird in places. Tamsin, for example, orders some aubergines stuffed with nuts and red pepper. What arrives is some yoghurt with pieces of roasted aubergine in it, the odd nut, and no red pepper at all.
We’re back at the hotel around 16:00, and I treat myself to not far short of 3 hours of sleep. I really needed to catch up after a not so brilliant night last night. This bastard cold is still hitting me, and I’m hopeful some R+R will set me up for the last week of our trip…Läs mer
Day 14 - Iguazu Falls, Day 1
11 oktober 2024, Argentina ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C
21:30
Gabriel picks us up at 09:00, and we head straight for the Argentinean border. Our first stop is at a viewpoint of the three countries that join at the Tres Fronteras - we’re in Argentina, and to our left is Paraguay and our right Brazil. Gabriel keeps us entertained with information, history and stories about the area, the conjoining rivers, and the falls. We enter the Iguazu Falls National Park, and Gabriel drops us at the Gran Melia Hotel, which has amazing views towards the falls. This plush, 5* hotel is only a couple of kilometres from the falls, and has views over the river canyon to a similarly luxe hotel on the Brazilian side - the Belmond.
The weather’s not great. Persistent, and occasionally heavy rain. We’ve all brought what we deem to be appropriate clothing. There are three different walking circuits around the Argentinean side of the falls, and we’ll take them all. We start with the lower circuit, which is a great intro. As we approach the falls, we can hear and *feel* them. There are 275 drops in total, varying from a small trickle to an absolute torrent. Around 75% of these are accessible on the Argentinean side of the falls, so we’re in for a fascinating day of viewing.
We emerge from the jungle, and have a view from below up to a set of falls that are in full flow. October is one of the most spectacular months to view the falls, as it’s one of the wetter months of the calendar. While these larger falls are incredibly impressive, we’re also struck by the number of smaller falls dotted around the park. There is just SO MUCH water trying to get from up there to down here.
In other news, it transpires my waterproof is no longer waterproof. Curses. I brought a spare poncho, but it’s back in the car…
The upper circuit takes us up to and across the top level of the falls. This is a much more visceral experience of the falls, as we’re just metres from the point where they drop 80m down to the base of the canyon. It’s markedly busier up here. Many, many content creators creating much, much content.
We then take a train up to the Devil’s Throat, which was closed until recently, due to the bridge being entirely washed away by floods late last year. The spray coming up from the base of the falls makes it appear like rain clouds are being birthed, so thick is it. The roar of the water is mind-blowing. There’s just an innate sense of majesty - of natural power. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
Gabriel drops us back at Hotel Rouver, and I’m desperately in need of some sleep. This bug is still lingering, and it’s wiping me out. I sleep through my alarm, and Vicki wakes me a little before 20:00. I’m fuzzy headed and beyond jaded. We pop over to the supermarket to grab some supplies, and decided against heading out for food. We’ve another early start tomorrow, and feel like we could do with as much rest as possible.Läs mer
Day 13 - Onwards, to Foz do Iguazu...
10 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌧 22 °C
22:00
A long day of travel awaits, and I’m more than a little jaded. I sleep poorly, and feel pretty fuzzy around the edges. Spaced out, a bit woozy etc etc. Waiting in the departure lounge at Maceio Airport, I feel a little queasy as well. Really rather unpleasant. On the flight, the row opposite us is empty, and I relocate, in the hope that the additional space will allow me to sleep for a couple of hours. We’ve a 3 hour hop down to Rio, then a 2 hour puddle jump over to Foz do Iguazu. Happily, I manage about 90 minutes, and wake up feeling much the better for it.
Landing into Rio, there is a heavy, grey carpet of cloud blanketing the city. We’ve been very lucky with the weather so far, but there are promises of storms later in Foz do Iguazu. We were a little worried that our 45 minute transfer in Rio would be a touch tight, but in reality we actually have to spare (i.e. to grab a quick beer). Our second flight is busier, and at this point, it’s time to talk about reclining seats. We’ve taken a few internal flights during our trip - the longest being three hours, and the shortest clocking in at around 50 minutes. Most of our flights are on a low cost carrier called Gol - lots of shared DNA with the likes of Easyjet or Ryanair. We’ve been surprised throughout that the seats on these planes are capable of reclining. LCCs in Europe tend to specify their planes without reclining seats. What’s surprised us even more is the determination of passengers on these short flights to recline their seat to the max. There is very little legroom when the seats are upright. With the seat in front fully reclined, it is beyond cramped. On this second flight today, there is a couple sat in front of me, occupying three seats. They recline the two they’re sitting in (window and aisle), but also recline the middle seat in which neither of them is sitting. What madness is this?
The flight passes quickly enough. I’m watching a very entertaining Netflix show at the moment, about Jeffrey Dahmer - that mass murdering, necrophiliac cannibal. A couple of episodes pass the time satisfactorily. As we start to descend into Foz do Iguazu, we’re in thick, low lying cloud. The cloud barely breaks as we land, and it is raining. Visibility is poor, but we can still see that we’re landing into an airport surrounded on all sides by think jungle.
Our driver for the next few days, Gabriel, meets us, and whisks us to our hotel. Along the 20km drive into town, the roads are lined by large, chain hotels. This is clearly a city built around and for tourism. We’re all hungry, having subsisted on simple airport food all day. We head out in search of sustenance, and land at a very cool looking Italian place. I feel a little under-dressed in my shorts, sleeveless t-shirt and bandana combo. I have a truly outstanding lasagne, featuring a veal ragu, and some very well made fresh pasta. Vicki’s ravioli are even more impressive, featuring black truffle, and a barely cooked egg yolk as the filling. As we eat, we can see into the kitchen, where one of the chefs is preparing fresh pasta. There’s a lot of skill on display. By the time we’ve eaten, it’s past 20:00. We’re conscious we’ve an early-ish start tomorrow, and we’re all pretty tuckered. It’s starting to rain again. Once back at the hotel, the heavens really open. Thick sheets of rain lash down, and the noise is really something. We set an alarm for 07:00, and turn in… =Läs mer
Day 12 - Quite a lot of not very much...
9 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 25 °C
21:00
Today has consisted of quite a lot of not very much. Some beach, some Caipirinhas, some food, some rest. I’m still getting over the lurgy which Vicki so generously gifted me. It’s turned into a racking chesty cough, which is not the funnest thing ever…Läs mer
Day 11 - That's more like it...
8 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 25 °C
15:30
Unsurprisingly, there have been poor sleeps all round. Vicki was cold and cramped, I was cramped and coughing, and Tam was awoken by a pre-dawn chorus of birdsong. There is an understandable grump amongst Team Fun this morning. We hold a high level strategy meeting over breakfast, and identify our preferred accommodation for the remainder of our time in Praia Do Frances. We reason that it would be a good idea to go and look at the rooms before we move our stuff over there. The new place (translated as Sand Captains, strangely…) is much nearer the beach, which is a bonus. Google Translate is our hero, as we negotiate with the receptionist. She shows us the rooms, and they’re light years ahead of the hovel in which we spent last night, which I have decided to christen Casa Del Ballbags. The new rooms are spacious and clean. They have an actual door for the bathroom. The beds are comfortable. Of such joyous, yet simple things will the next couple of days be made. We agree to move in, and ask what time we can access the rooms. Our new receptionist friends says we can move in straight away. We rejoice.
Back at Casa Del Ballbags, we pack. This takes less than moments, as we’d barely unpacked - in part because there was no storage space, and in part because it felt like our belongings would remain cleaner if they stayed in our luggage. We endure a frustrating 15 minutes in discussion with the receptionist at CDB. He is clearly not empowered to refund us for the 2 nights of accommodation that we will not use. We make the point that the rooms are not fit for purpose, have been advertised as 25m2 each, when they are in fact less than 9m2, and are not safe. He is in WhatsApp contact with his boss, who is refusing a refund, and claiming that this due to booking.com's cancellation policy. I know this to be bullshit, as I’ve had to cancel other accommodation in the past when it’s not been fit for purpose. Hilariously, the receptionist offers to have the rooms cleaned for us, as if this will sway us into staying. We’re not going to wait around ad nauseam berating a guy that clearly isn’t in a position to help us - we’ll have to take it up with booking.com, but at least will be able to do so from comfortable and clean accommodation. If it comes down to it, and we’re not able to secure a refund, it will still feel like money well spent.
Happily settled into our new digs, we spend some time at the beach. Tam is on the busy stretch of the beach, which sits behind a large natural barrier, breaking the fierce waves that are a feature of this stretch of coast. A couple of miles in either direction are some world class surf breaks, and whilst the waves here aren’t that clean, they’re big and powerful either side of the barrier. Vicki and I head to the southern end of the beach, which is beautiful. The fine, white sands stretch on as far as the eye can see. Around a mile further South of us, thick jungle borders the beach. This part of the beach is NOT behind the barrier, and the surf is impressive. There are plenty of kids boogie-boarding, and couple of folks having longboard surf lessons. It’s hot today. HOT. We’re craving shade, and find a funky little surf bar called Nareia. Ice cold beer for Vicki, ultra refreshing Caipi for me. We spent some time chatting in French to a slightly crazy lady. Basically, we’ll talk in any language that’s not Portuguese. My Portuguese vocab is coming along, but I just don’t know enough verbs to manage a conversation. Vicks and I both agree that we could put roots down in Praia do Frances for longer than the couple of days that we’re spending here.
There are beach hawkers everywhere we look, selling hats, paintings, lobsters (seriously), cold drinks. It’s not intrusive though. Our experience of hawkers in the likes of India is much more persistent. Here, a quick shake of the head does the job. We could happily settle in here for the duration, but decide to head for some lunch. We pitch up at the beach front place where we had happy hour cocktails last night. Vicki has a very tasty fillet of hake, and I order a traditional Alagoan fish dish - kinda like a Moqueca, but with some different spices. Very tasty. My shit night’s sleep is catching up with me though. We head back to our room, and I curl up for a much needed and much deserved nap.
22:30
My snooze was long and distinguished - a good couple of hours. Showered and refreshed, we head out to the supermarket for supplies, before aiming for a cool restaurant called the Red Prawn for some dinner. We share some deep fried battered prawns, and some Bacalao fritters. Very tasty - but definitely more than the little appetiser we were intending. When the girls’ salads arrive, there is an audible intake of breath. they are sizeable. Thankfully, my grilled salmon is not a monster size. There’s a calm about the restaurant this evening. When we order things, they turn up. There is little in the way of rank confusion. It’s all so, you know - normal. The sizeable dinner takes us down though. There’s not even a murmur amongst us about heading on somewhere for another drink. Bed beckons. We’re all looking forward to our sleeps…Läs mer
Day 10 - 100% totes hilarious.
7 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 24 °C
(APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE. WHAT FOLLOWS IS LENGTHY).
21:30
Our day starts well. Vicki and I have both slept more than adequately, and both feel better than yesterday. We take this is a positive portent for the day ahead. We’re up in good time, and packed/ready to go a good 90 minutes before our check out time of 11:00, and spend a chilled hour or so luxuriating in our very sizeable, very comfortable room. (I’m going somewhere with this…)
Our cab’s not till 12:00, so the three of us head down to a cool little coffee shop at the top end of Pelourinho. I have an Espresso and a Caipi Limao - both are top notch. We’re back at Pelourinho Boutique in enough time to see our car arrive. It is not big. For airport runs while we’re here, I’ve booked a car class big enough to comfortably seat all of us, and fit our luggage in the boot, and in some cases (including today) paid a premium to do so. It very quickly becomes evident that Breno (for ’tis his name) has a car that is insufficiently large for this. He suggests putting one of our hold bags on the front passenger seat, meaning the three of us have to squeeze into the rear passenger seats. It’s not a comfy journey, but we maintain our good humour throughout.
Arriving at the airport, we join a short queue to drop our bags, having already checked in. The queue moves slowly. I’ve seen glaciers move more quickly. I’ve seen cadavers move more quickly. The check-in staff are perhaps not the most efficient, but they’re also dealing with a family group of perhaps 15-20, a large proportion of whom are young children, and who appear not to have checked in, and not to have selected seats on board, and are now demanding that they all sit together. This one poor schmuck is dealing with this group when we join the queue, and is still dealing with them when we finish dropping our bags 45 minutes later.
The flight to Maceio is barely 50 minutes, and we’re very quickly out of the airport and into our cab to Praia Do Frances. This car is suitably proportioned, and I’m sitting up front next to the driver - who is a little nuts. The closest we have to a lingua franca is our shared scratchy Spanish. He tells us that we are the first gringo tourists to come up this way. We don’t entirely believe him, but it’s clear that this is not a well worn traveller path.
We arrive to our guesthouse in one piece. Vera welcomes us, and we have a brief back and forth to highlight that I/we don’t speak any Portuguese. She continues to speak to us in Portuguese. Quickly. We resort to Google Translate, which helps a little, but she often slips into speaking Portuguese when I’m not holding my phone, so can’t translate what she’s saying. FFS.
Eventually, we complete check-in, and she takes us to our room. It is tiny. I’d find it a squeeze for 1, but for Vicki and I to share, it’s ridiculously small. Thankfully, that means the A/C unit on the wall doesn’t have a ton of volume to cool, so - you know, there’s that. There’s a small double bed, bumped up against the wall, so one of Vicki or I will have to climb over the other if we need to get out during the night. Bizarrely, there’s a pretty sizeable fridge against one wall, which very much takes up the space that would otherwise have allowed for the bed to stand in the middle of the room. 3 nights here is feeling like a long time… We agree to give it till morning, and regroup.
Meanwhile, we’re thirsty, and approaching peckish. We walk down to the beach - around 8 minutes. The sun’s pretty much set, but there’s an ethereal greyish light in the sky over the horizon. Pretty beautiful actually. We stop at a beachfront bar, which has a happy hour. Caipis for the boozers, a virgin Caipi (or something) for the non-boozer. Very cool. We head up the main street in the town, and there are countless restaurants and bars lining the pavement. We stop at one that looks/smells good, have a quick scan of the menu, and agree that we will do well here.
Things start well enough. They bring Vicki a Corona Zero pretty quickly. I order a glass of white wine, and - nothing. Ten minutes pass. I stop another waiter, and ask about this glass of wine. He disappears. There’s a conflab by the wine fridge. Our waiter returns and tells us he can’t do a glass of wine, but can do a bottle. Righto. A quick scan of the wine list, and I order a Chilean Chardonnay. There is a further conflab by the wine fridge. Our waiter returns empty handed. Well - that’s not entirely true. He brings over 4 bottles of wine, none of which are the Chilean Chardonnay we’d ordered. We settle for an Argentinian white, which happily is more than half decent.
We reason that our luck will now turn, and order some food. Tilapia for the girls, and something that I *think* is lamb, but which Google Translate is adamant is called ‘Sheep Blanket’ for me. Our waiter, disappears off, looking pleased with himself. Close to an hour later, tables around us are receiving their food, despite ordering after us. This bodes not well. I ask one of the waiters (using GT, obvs) how long our food will be. He looks askance at me, and my heart sinks a little. He heads off to discuss with the waiter who took our order. We keep a close eye. There’s a moment of realisation on their part, which I wish I’d captured on video. Yeah - the order’s not been placed. We laugh, because you have to, right? Our waiter comes back over, and is apologetic. He promises 5 minutes until the food arrives. That strikes me as a little faster than is ideal, but at this stage - who fucking cares. Moments later, he reappears at our table. There is no sheep blanket. I pick something meaty at random from the menu. I’m close to being past caring.
Finally, FINALLY, our food arrives, and it’s pretty good. Notwithstanding the Fawlty Towers approach to restaurant management and operations, the chef can clearly cook. Happily, there’s a pretty good guitarist / vocalist combo belting out a mixture of Brazilian songs, and English (language) pop covers. I’m rather taken with the guitarist’s work on the cover of Billy Jean…
We stop in at a supermarket on the way back to our cells, and meet Rodrigo, a lovely kid who speaks excellent English. He tells us that he taught himself English watching YouTube clips and Netflix shows. Arriving back at our guesthouse, Vicki and I quickly decide that the move/not move decision is being made, and it’s being made tonight, and it’s gonna be MOVE. The room is just too small for both us to be comfortable. We can’t unpack anything, as there’s no storage provided. The final straw is seeing the shower, which is an electric power shower, and which has a very dodgy looking electrical outlet right above the shower, where - you know, all the water comes out. We enter high level discussions with Tam, who is entirely in agreement. We’ll grab some breakfast tomorrow, then set out to find alternative digs for the following couple of nights. I’ll get into wrangling with the agent we booked with once we’re comfortable…Läs mer
Day 9 - A lurgy shared = a lurgy doubled
6 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 25 °C
19:00
I sleep poorly. Lots of awakeness. I realise around 05:00 that I’m starting to feel feverish. Vicki sleeps on next to me. I wake for the final time around 06:00. Vicki’s up a little before 08:00, we have some breakfast, and consider what to do with our day. We’ve nothing firm planned, so decide to head out to some of the museums that Adriano pointed out to us the other day. There’s one that focuses on the musical history of Bahia that I’d love to visit. We head out. It feels hot. Hotter than the past couple of days. The weather report suggests not though, which means it’s me that’s the variable.
We take the funicular down the hillside into the lower city. It’s pretty much deserted. We walk towards the museum, maybe 10 minutes away. We see a handful of cars, and a few street dwellers, but that’s about it. I remark that it feels a bit like the City of London on a Sunday morning. We reach the first museum. and it’s closed. The security guard says something to me in Portuguese that I do not understand. Oh, except ‘fechado’ which means closed. Hmmm. We wander 100m to the next museum, the one I’ve been keen to visit. Also closed. We look across the road to Mercado Modelo, a commercial centre. Also closed. Google Maps has lied to us.
After a brief conflab, we walk along the harbour towards the marina. It’s hot, and we’re marching in the direct sunlight for about 15 minutes. Neither of us is delighted about this turn of events. We can see signs of shelter down at the waterfront, but not immediately clear how we get there. Google Maps does the decent thing this time, and directs us. We stop at a waterside bar/restaurant called Lafayette. We sink a couple of beers, because if that doesn’t scare away the lurgy, nothing will. Lafayette gradually fills up, and by the time we leave, they’re doing a roaring trade.
We do some investigation, and it transpires that there is voting today in state and municipal elections, and this is likely to be why some places are closed. We’ve got previous with elections interfering with our travel plans - see Goa 2012 for details…
We grab an Uber to head back up to Pelourinho. We’re both getting peckish, and feel like our best chance to find sustenance is close to our guesthouse. We stop in at Cafe Cana, a cute little place we’ve walked past a couple of times. Vicki has a Cachaca-less Caipirinha, called a Meirinha. No? Us neither. It’s very tasty though. My Cachaca laden version really hits the spot though. The food is sensational. We order Arroz de Rabada (rice with oxtail) and Bacalhau Cremoso - a kind of salt cod fish pie with cheese type affair. Very very tasty. The oxtail rice might be the best thing I’ve eaten since we arrived in Brazil.
The food takes us down. We head back to our room, click on the A/C, and contemplate snoozes. Vicki is off almost immediately, and sleeps for a little over 2 hours. I manage an hour of dozy sleep, and wake up feeling rougher than I did before I snoozed. Fucksticks.
Tam’s had a great day over at the Praia Blue beach bar that Vicks and I visited yesterday. Caipis, sunshine, massages and cod fritters.
Vicki and I briefly consider a foray out, but decide that rest and recuperation are what’s needed. Tomorrow is another day…Läs mer
Day 8 - Beach, seafood, sundowners...
5 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 25 °C
19:00
We wake to the sound of very little. We’ve both slept deeply and well. Vicki (unsurprisingly) slightly better than I, but we no longer compete. We have another great breakfast, and consider what to do with our day. I’ve intentionally left today and tomorrow fairly footloose and fancy free. I’d no idea whether Salvador was going to be somewhere that demanded to be walked around and seen, or hung out in, or a bit of both. Today is the latter.
Tam heads out in good time to Amaralina beach. Vicki and I have a lazy morning hanging out at the hotel. She’s still not 100%, bless her, and we figure this might be the best way to preserve her energy. We jump in a cab around 12:30, and (via a quick pit-stop to buy her some decongestants at a pharmacy) head for a beach bar called Praia Blue. It’s great. Not really sure how to describe it, except that it reminds me of Ibiza 20 years ago. Lots of laid back, melodic house music, laid back people hanging out and enjoying themselves, and some really quite good seafood. We share a seafood risotto, some cod croquettes, a bag of something that approximates whitebait, and a tuna tartare. Wonderful. I wash mine down with a local white wine which is much more than passable.
It’s very easy to kick back and spend time here. We’d not initially clocked that the music is actually provided by a DJ, as he’s slightly hidden from our view. He’s playing some really cool stuff, which transcends house, Balearic beach music, and yet which has a distinctly South American feel to it. It’s an awesome spot.
Around 16:00, we head down to the Barra lighthouse, a popular hangout for sunset views. There’s a cool little bar to one side of the lighthouse which Vicki and I target. I have a thoroughly decent Caipirinha, and Tamsin joins us, having spent most of the day on the beach. The sunset is very, VERY pretty, and accompanied by a guy playing acoustic guitar. Again, lots of Ibiza vibes. We sit, chat, take photos, chat, order another Caipirinha, chat. A great way to wile away the time. As the light begins to fade, we jump in a cab to head back to the hotel. I’m 50/50 whether I’m putting down roots or heading out for Saturday night adventures. I suspect I’ll take a cue from how Vicki’s feeling…
21:30
Well, we did make it out - but not for long. Vicks and I have a wander around the streets of Pelourinho, but I think largely because it’s early, and Saturday night - and we kinda feel like we should. There is music everywhere, bars spilling out onto the streets. There is a significant volume of beer and caipirinhas being drunk. The town is alive, and energetic. We, however, are not. After 40 minutes of ambling, we admit defeat, and head back to our guesthouse. Vicki is asleep by 21:00, bless her. Hoping a 10 hour sleep marathon will help her over the worst of her lurgy…Läs mer
Day 7 - Candomblé, Capoeira, Caipirinha.
4 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 25 °C
12:00
I treat myself to a Zopiclone overnight. I’ve not slept poorly so far, but can equally feel like I’m a bit frayed around the edges. I was asleep by 22:00 last night, and sleep through till nearly 07:00. Vicki wakes not long after me, and is stuffed full of cold. She’s not feeling too bad, but is pretty bunged up and snuffly. Our breakfast is brought to our room at 08:00, and it’s a smorgasbord. Pastries, cakes, bread rolls, charcuterie and cheese, some muesli and yoghurt, and some of the sweetest little bananas I’ve ever eaten. Delish. Shortly after breakfast, I lay down, and can feel my eyes getting heavy. Vicki also feels like she could do with some more sleep. I shut my eyes, and wake up what feels moments later, but at what is actually 11:00. All in, I’ve had close to 10 hours sleep. Forza Zopiclone!
16:45
We take a hilly walk through Pelourinho to the meeting point for our walking tour. Our guide, Adriano, gives us a great insight to the history and society of one of Brazil’s oldest and most culturally diverse neighbourhoods. Salvador was an economic powerhouse in the 16th and 17th centuries, and the epicentre of Brazil’s slave trade. There are statues and monuments everywhere acknowledging the plight of the slaves, as well as the end of the slave trade in the late 19th century.
We’re introduced to the Candomblé religion, and the Baianas, the colourfully dressed women who are ever present on the Salvador streets. We visit a church, dedicated to St Francis of Assisi, which has THE most ornate and intricate gold work I’ve ever seen. Adriano tells us there’s close to 1 metric ton of gold in the church. We’re all struck by how comfortably these various religions coexist peacefully. There’s even a church where Sundays witness a combined service for Roman Catholics, and followers of Candomblé. Given the headlines we keep seeing about religious war in the Middle East, it’s a stunning reminder that philosophically different religions don’t actually need to harm each other…
Our tour finishes near our hotel, and under a balcony from which Michael Jackson famously sang in the video for ‘They Don’t Care About Us’ back in 1996. It’s been a great couple of hours wandering around with Adriano, and we feel like we know the neighbourhood that is our home for the next few days much better than we did this morning. We’re all ready for some lunch, so head to a pretty little square in front of the San Francisco church. Couple of Caipis for Tamsin and I really hit the spot. The food is very good. A steak for me, a wodge (technical term) of beautifully grilled fish for Vicki, and some prawns for Tam. Lovely stuff. It’s comfortably the priciest meal we’ve had so far, but is smack in the middle of the tourist zone, so it’s hardly surprising. It still feels like it offers good value though.
We’re all ready for a little rest after eating. Vicki and Tam wander back via a Havaianas shop, and I swing by the theatre for a dance recital later, to pick up our tickets. Currently unsure whether snooze or not…
21:00
Not snooze in the end, but had a lovely, relaxing couple of hours chilling back at our room. Vicks is on the border of feeling properly smeggy, but is pushing through brilliantly. The folk dance recital we’re going to starts at 19:00, and we’re out in good time. It’s a short walk down and then up the cobbled streets to the theatre.
The show is awesome. Such incredible energy… It covers a range of styles, but majors on Candomblé and Capoeira, with a bit of Samba thrown in for good measure. I’m not always a fan of percussion driven music, but alongside the dance we’re watching, it fits perfectly. I’m sure there’s an incredible amount of meaning and symbolism to what we’re experiencing that simply passes us by. I’m not sure I’d even describe much of the dancing as artistic - but it’s incredibly powerful, very moving, and leaves an indelible mark. We’re all hugely appreciative of what we’ve just witnessed.
Vicki and I briefly consider a nightcap - it is, after all, past 20:00. It’s Friday night in Pelourinho though, and all the bars we walk past are packed to the rafters. We mosey (it’s our top speed this evening) back to the guesthouse. I very nearly come a serious cropper, when my ankle buckles in a deep hole in the pavement. Thankfully, I brought an ankle brace with me, in case of arthritic pain, so it shouldn’t slow me down *too* much…Läs mer
Day 6 - Vamos para a Bahia!
3 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C
13:00
We’re sad to say goodbye to Rio, but today’s moving day. We’re checked out of our hotel and into our cab a little ahead of 11:00. The geography of the city makes much more sense to us as we’re leaving, so familiar has it become over the past 4 days. We all agree that we’d happily come back to Rio. Vicki and I are particularly keen to visit for carnival. I’d also thoroughly recommend to fellow travellers. We’ve not felt the presence of street crime, and we find ourselves wondering whether this is localised in certain neighbourhoods, perhaps around Copacabana and Ipanema beaches. Certainly around Lapa and Santa Theresa, we’ve never felt at risk.
At the airport, there’s a minor snafu when the check-in agent tells us that there are no battery powered items of any kind allowed in checked baggage. This cues us into a slightly panicked unpack and repack - me for my toothbrush, Vicki for one of her several fans, Tam for something that I’m failing to remember.
The domestic departures terminal is fairly minimalist in its approach. There’s a small café, a couple of toilets, a few boutiques. Happily, we’ve not ages to wait. I grab a beer and settle in for a read…
17:00
The flight is, um, interesting. We’re on a plane, 80% of whose passengers appear never to have taken a flight before. Either that, or they just give zero fucks. An elderly couple sitting in front of Vicki and me slam their seats back to full recline while people are still boarding. As we start to move down the runway, a dude across the aisle starts a video call. The cabin crew also appear to be in the zero fucks gang, so do nothing about this. Still, it’s a short flight…
We leave gloomy and overcast conditions behind us in Rio, and land in Salvador in warm sunshine. We’re about 1,000 miles closer to the equator here, and the sun feels strong. We meet our cab driver, Yuri, with whom we have an extended and funny conversation via the medium of Google Translate. He gives us some suggestions for places to eat, beaches to visit. Our hotel is in Pelourinho, the historical old town of Salvador. Narrow, cobbled streets, lined with neighbourhood bars, small shops, guesthouses. One such guesthouse is Pelourinho Boutique, our home for the next 4 nights. The reception dude speaks barely a word of English, and we lean heavily on Google Translate to get checked in. Our room’s great. Much brighter and lighter than our digs in Rio. The A/C unit also appears to be one that won’t keep us awake all night, which is nice.
21:30
We head out around 18:00, in urgent need of refreshment. It’s definitely a few degrees cooler here than in Rio, and there’s a lovely breeze coming off the sea. We stop at a very quirky bar called Cafelier. The decor is highly eclectic, and it has a pretty terrace with some amazing views over the ocean towards the sunset. Tamsin and I have our first Salvador Caipis. Vicks has a tasty coffee / frappé / milkshake type contraption.
We look for a dinner option nearby, and opt for Zanzibar, whose menu reflects the communities of African heritage that make up so much of Salvador’s population. Salvador was Brazil’s first capital city, and quickly became the primary entry point for slaves brought over from Africa. There remain countless families living in Salvador with strong family links back to Benin, Nigeria, Angola, Congo, Ethiopia and Senegal. The food at Zanzibar is great. We have some Acaraje - traditional dumplings made from ground cassava, served with a selection of spicy dips and accompaniments. Vicki and Tam share some Prawns PiriPiri - not a close relation of the Portuguese PiriPiri dish. Massive king prawns, served with a slightly spicy rice, that has a distinctive and very pleasant flavour that none of us can quite identify. I have a Moqueca, an ultra traditional fish stew/curry, made this time with prawns. It’s awesome. Fragrant, a little bit of heat, bucket loads of spanking fresh prawns. YUM.
Wandering back to our guesthouse, we pass a series of bars that are busy, and have a bunch of different types of music blaring out. We all loved Rio, but equally all feel like we may be about to have some more stereotypically Brazilian experiences while we’re in Salvador. Bring it on.Läs mer
Day 5 - Her name was Lola.
2 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C
16:00
Wow - what a day! We’re up with the lark. Well, I’m awake at a little after 05:00, and Vicki wakes moments before the 07:00 alarm call. We’re heading out in decent time, as we need to be at the Copacabana Palace Hotel by 09:00 for our favela tour. In the end, this is a breeze, and meet Barbara, who will be our font of knowledge, protector and guide for the next few hours. We jump in a cab to head up to Rocinha (Hor-seen-ya), one of the largest favelas in Rio. It’s a good 20 minutes in the cab, during which Barbara assures us, reassures us, and assures us for a third time that walking around the favela with her is perfectly safe, that we don’t need to worry about our valuables etc etc. More on that later…
There’s an incredibly distinct demarcation between a ‘normal’ neighbourhood, and the beginning of the favela. On one side of the road is a very expensive private school, largely for ex-pat kids. The other side of the road, is the entrance to the favela. It could not be a starker contrast. I’m reminded of my time in Mumbai, where there’s an ultra-luxe hotel on one side of the road, and the entrance to the world’s biggest slum on the other. The favelas/slums in Rio grew up as a result of cheap labour being transported in to help build the city in the late 19th and early 20th century. Workers were offered a small plot of land on which to build a residence. Unsurprisingly, many have now sprouted into multi-storey properties. There are something like 200,000 people living here, in 1km2.
Barbara walks us up a STEEP hill, followed by some STEEP stairs. She promises us the effort is worth it. We suddenly emerge onto the rooftop terrace of a local restaurant, and the entire favela is laid out beneath us. Genuinely jaw dropping. We sit for a while, as Barbara tells us more about the social and legal status of the community. There’s very little crime in Rocinha, but only because the drug dealers won’t allow it. Any crime will attract the interest of the state police. If there’s no crime, the state police have no cause to enter the favela. There’s almost a tolerance of the drug business, as long as it’s contained to Rocinha. This isn’t true of all the favelas in Rio. Further to the North is Cidade de Deus, the inspiration for City of God (if you haven’t seen it, track down a copy) where murder is a daily occurrence, and we would likely be robbed and/or shot on sight.
Barbara goes on to tell us about Johnny Bravo, the drug kingpin in Rocinha. He’s around 30 years old, and has run the drag cartel since the age of 22. He’s wanted for 6 murders, and countless racketeering charges, but never leaves the favela, so has avoided arrest. What’s fascinating is to see how Barbara, who’s background is as a lawyer, and who lives outside the favela, talks about this career criminal. There’s a reverence, almost an acknowledgement that, whilst not a perfect situation, the permissiveness of the drug trade has an upside, and a positive impact on the social construct across the community.
We climb many stairs, we walk down many others. There’s a ton of great street art, we meet many cats, and see some dogs humping. At a few points, Barbara warns us not to take photos for a couple of minutes, as we’re about to pass a drug business. Fine to walk past, definitely NOT ok to capture images. Further into the favela, there are some young (maybe 20s?) men sitting at a table, upon which their drug wares are laid. I’m not kidding - it’s like a candy shop, each different option labelled. As we walk past, they call out to us to try and entice us to buy. My mind is fairly blown by this.
As we come towards the end of our tour, we’re struck by so much of our experience. I think my single, greatest takeaway will be how happy the favela is. We’re greeted with smiles and waves wherever we go. There’s a positive, buoyant energy everywhere we look. Yes, there’s a dark undercurrent that permits the rest of the community to operate the way it does, but it’s working, really REALLY well.
Barbara leads us onto the Metro to head back towards the city beaches. We choose to get off at the slightly closer Ipanema beach. We find a cool little bar/restaurant, and put roots down. It’s hot today, around 35C, and we’ve been in the sun more than is completely ideal this morning. We also all wore trainers for the walking tour, and are more than ready for flip-flops for the afternoon. I have a local craft IPA, Tamsin has a more than passable Caipi Limao, and Vicki is delighted to find Corona Cero on the menu. Cooled, we turn our minds to food, and order a few bits to pick at. Vicki and I have some lamb croquetas that are brilliant.
We’re only a couple of blocks from Ipanema Beach, so head down to check it out. It is RAMMED. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a beach so packed. Certainly not one that’s so big. It’s also windy. Like, really windy. Tam braves a dip of the toes, and we decide to head on to Copacabana. It’s a little quieter, a little less windy here. We head down onto the beach. Tam and I have been wanting to grab a beach Caipi. There are little stalls up and down the beach, numbered sequentially. To meet your friends, you’d tell them to which drinks shack you’re closest. We swing by #56, and order a couple of Caipi Limaos. By the power of Grayskull, they’re strong. Moments later, a yoof approaches, ostensibly selling some pastry type snack. I decline, but he leans in, and conspiratorially offers me coke or hash. Again, I decline, explaining that I have a guy in the favela that sorts me out. He looks nonplussed at me, and carries on down the beach. It’s pushing 15:00, and we’re all feeling another long day’s walking in the heat. We agree to use the rest of the afternoon for some high-level resting, and reconvene this evening to see what’s what.
21:45
Tam’s decided to have a quiet night in, so Vicki and i head out around 18:00 to what Time Out recently proclaimed as the 8th coolest street in the world. I’m not sure we know what to make of that, or what to expect. We grab a cocktail at Ferro e Farinha, a restaurant specialising in wood fired cooking. The cocktails are excellent. Are they the 8th coolest cocktails in the world? We’re not convinced. Refreshed, we wander down the street in search of food, and cool stuff/people/places. There’s a cool supermarket a hundred metres up the road. Think the Whole Foods chain in the US, and you’re not a million miles away. They charge premium prices for staple products, and stock the somewhat esoteric as well. They have avocados the size of my head. Is it the 8th coolest supermarket in the world? Possibly. I’ve not really used ‘cool’ as a metric for supermarkets before. The street is maybe 400m long. We pass a few bars showing football, a couple of places to eat. We briefly consider grabbing some Peruvian food, but having to translate every single item on the Portuguese only menu is frankly more of a ballache than we're willing to accommodate.
We end up back at Ferro e Farinha, where the food looked amazing. We have two carpaccios - one of beef, served with a Bearnaise mayonnaise and some shaved Parmesan, and one of Octopus with some citrus and herbs. Both are banging. We have a sort of open Calzone with a cheese, tomato and egg yolk centre, served with garlic butter and a salsa verde pesto. Astonishing. Vicki has a ginger and tea cocktail that is both spectacular to look at, and uber-tasty. While we eat, we discuss our views on this - the 8th coolest street in the world. We agree it’s not even our coolest street in Rio de Janeiro. Perhaps Time Out's and our definition of cool differs, but we’d take the noisy street bars and restaurants of Lapa over this any day of the week, and twice on Sundays. Still, food was awesome.
It’s pushing 21:00 by the time we settle the bill. This constitutes a late night for this trip. Back at our hotel, Vicki quickly falls into bed. I give up reading when I realise i can barely focus on the words any more…Läs mer
Day 4 - The temperature's rising...
1 oktober 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 25 °C
15:30
The AC unit in our room is noisy, and has two settings - on (COLD) and off (room rapidly warms). It’s too cold and noisy to sleep with it on all night, but too hot not to have it turned on at all. Largely as a result of this, I’ve had a slightly sketchy night’s sleep. It’s fine - I can nap later. Vicki is awake at 07:00, and anyone who knows her will understand how disconcerting this is. We grab an early breakfast, and are out the door not long after 09:00.
The drive up to Christ the Redeemer is slow. We’ve caught the end of what we assume is rush-hour, but honestly - the traffic around Rio is pretty bad whatever time of day it is. Still - our car is cool, and we enjoy adding to our knowledge of the city’s geography along the way.
We take a 20 minute train / funicular to the top of the mountain. At one point we stop for about 5 minutes to allow a descending train to pass us. When the train’s not moving, it’s sweltering. The temp today is due to hit around 35C. Happily, there’s not a ton of heat index to add to that, but it’s still hot by our standards. The views from the top of the mountain are staggering. We have a 360 degree view of Rio, and can appreciate the size and scale of this mega-city that is home to some 13 million people. We can see the Copacabana and Ipanema beaches that we’ll check out tomorrow, the phallic Sugar Loaf mountain, the world famous Maracana stadium… There’s also a statue of Jesus up here, but that’s not really our thing.
What we also see in abundance are people of Instagram, influencers in the wild. The number of people taking posed selfies and pictures is mind-blowing. They’ll spend literal minutes trying to get the right angle, light, pose, facial expression. We definitely do NOT get in their way on purpose.
We head back down the mountain by train, and again get stuck for 5 minutes waiting for a train to pass us. The temperature’s definitely rising, and this afternoon is set to be a melter. We jump in a cab over to Urca, and grab tickets for the Sugar Loaf cable car. There are actually two cable cars - the first to a mid-point on Urca Hill, around 200m up, and another up to the peak of Sugar Loaf, another 200m up. The cable cars were made famous by the fight scene between Bond and Jaws in Moonraker. Again, the views are breathtaking. We’re near the smaller, city-centre airport here, and we see a couple of planes coming in to land which are actually below us. We grab an uber-cold drink or two, and some snacks, and spend a very happy hour people watching. We make a vague plan to head out for dinner in Santa Theresa later, and decide a few hours rest and recuperation is deserved…
22:00
I fall into a deep, dream fuelled sleep. I’m more than a little discombobulated when I wake up, but feel better for a nap. We have a bit of a snafu, when an Uber car arrives, claiming it’s for us, but is the wrong make, model, plate etc etc. We *think* we’ve just been subject to our first attempt to rob us. We cancel the ride, and then the correct car turns up a minute later. Rebooked, we’re on our way quickly enough, and take a fairly short, very uphill, and incredibly pretty drive up the hill to Santa Theresa. It’s a boutique, bouji and Bohemian neighbourhood, on the hill above Lapa. It’s only a mile or thereabouts from our hotel, but most of that is up a vertiginous incline. Quite apart from our policy of making sure we take cabs after dark, I think we’d also have struggled to walk up here in the heat, which is still stifling.
We arrive at Bar Explorer, which is a very cool and pretty little restaurant with a garden of stone and vines, under which we sit. The menu is full of intriguing dishes. We share some Arancini type rice balls, and some deep fried tapioca Dadinhos to start. Vicks and Tam have a banging tilapia dish for their main, and I have a fusion sounding seafood pasta dish. All the food is good - the standouts being the arancini and the tilapia dish. Vicks has a brilliant virgin cocktail, and Tamsin and I add to our repertoire of Caipis. This one is properly sharp, but all the better for it. It’s starting to cool now, which is a blessed relief. It’s more of the same tomorrow - perhaps even hotter, so we’ll be mindful of sunscreen, shade, hats and water requirements. For now, it’s past 20:00, and we’re all flagging. Jet-lag correction is happening, but slowly. We’ve an early start tomorrow for our favela tour, so an early night is a must. At least, that’s the excuse we tell ourselves…Läs mer
Day 3 - Perfect sleep to activity ratio.
30 september 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 24 °C
13:00
Much sleeping has been done. Vicki’s activity tracker reckons she’s had around 13 hours, and mine is pushing up towards 10. Tam has also slept very well, and we’re much refreshed for the day. We’ve no fixed plans until a walking tour at 15:00 this afternoon, so agree to grab some breakfast, and then head down towards the harbour area of the city. We’ve been advised to stick to Uber for cabs around town, and so jump in a fairly rickety old car to bump our way downtown. We amble along the dockside, stopping to gaze at a stunning (and huge) mural painted by the famous street artist, Kobra, for the 2016 Rio Olympics. We carry on down to Praca Maua, which is home to the breathtaking architecture of Museu Do Amanha. It’s a Science Museum, but the building which houses it is a gargantuan display of glass and metalwork. Really quite something…
It’s rapidly heating up, and we have to remind ourselves that we’re not far from the equator here, so the sun is properly strong. We seek shelter in a cool little coffee shop. I have an Espresso and a beer, while the ladies settle for coffees. Somewhat recharged and refreshed, we carry on round to Praca XV Novembro, which commemorates the end of the Emperor’s reign in Brazil in 1889, as the result of a military coup. Power to the people.
We jump in an Uber back to our hotel, mindful that we’ve 3 hours of walking this afternoon, and that we might need to save some energy. We stop in at a supermarket across the street from our hotel. There’s a range of Brazilian wines to try. I’ve been advised these are on a spectrum from really quite good, to holy fuck, that’s atrocious. We also grab more water, and some beers for our room. The supermarket feels like a decent microcosm of the Brazil we’ve experienced thus far. Everything’s on a bit of a go-slow, there’s no urgency. That’s fine for us as travellers, but I suspect we’d start to find it a little irksome for everyday life. Still - the Cariocas seem to be accustomed to and ok with it…
20:30
What a day! We head out at 13:30 to grab a quick snack before our walking tour. The first place we stop at doesn’t quite attract us. It looked like a cool place to grab a bite on Google Eats, but as is often the case with the internet, the reality doesn’t quite live up to the promise. We head up the street, and find what looks like quite a cool snack bar. We ask if there’s anything vegetarian for Tamsin. The initial response suggests yes, but this somehow turns into a no. There’s also quite a lot of confusion about how to actually ask for food.
I’m incredibly conscious that I speak no Portuguese, and that English is barely known here. It’s the first time in I can’t remember how long that I’ve struggled to communication with local folks. I’m hyper aware that being an English speaker guarantees me comprehension in a vast array of countries, but this is simply not one of them. I’ve also made the very conscious choice this year NOT to try and learn a little of the local language, as I’m visiting so many countries in a short space of time, and frankly - my addled and ageing brain is not capable of context switching that quickly. I’m regretting it now though. We wander onwards, and find a little café that offers sandwiches and custard tarts. That’ll do.
We’ve still a while to wait until our walking tour, so we amble onwards through the commercial district. We’d really kinda like to find a bar to settle into for an hour, but they seem to be thin on the ground. In this part of Rio, the concept of a ‘bar’ seems to be an alien one. Eventually, we find something that sort of meets the need, though we’re not sure if it’s actually a bar, an antiques store or a library. They do serve ultra-cold beer though, so I dive in.
It’s time for our walking tour, and we meet with the enigmatic Nina in Carioca Square. The following 3 hours are a fascinating insight into the history of Rio, of Brazil, of the Portuguese colonisation of Brazil, and of its ultimate independence in 1898. As stories go, it’s pretty soap operatic.
We’re gradually getting our Rio bearings. We blindly and blithely realise that the building we’re standing in (the 19th century Royal Palace) is on one side of the Praca XV Novembro Square we were on earlier. Ok - so our geography still needs work. We end up at the Selaron stairs, new to some of our group, but well known to us intrepid explorers who have spent all of 36 hours in the city. We (T, V and T) park at a streetside bar and grab drinks, some more drinks, and then some food. The night is starting to darken, and we feel no edge or concern about this. Without wanting to be blasé, we’re beginning to wonder whether the street safety concerns we were told about are more fiction than fact. We won’t be dropping our collective guard, but it feels like we’re all relaxing into the city, in a very good way…Läs mer
Day 2 - Her name is Rio...
29 september 2024, Brasilien ⋅ 🌙 23 °C
08:45
All told, a successful flight/journey. We time our arrival at the departure gate to perfection, and are instantly called to board. We’re on a refitted BA 777. I don’t know who does BA’s interior design, but they should be sacked. They take planes that other airlines can make appear spacious, light and comfortable, and turn them into dark and cramped environments.
We remarked as we were boarding that the amount of cabin baggage brought by some people beggars belief. There are many suitcases that don’t really fit in the overhead lockers. Most have to go in sideways, which is not really in the sprit of the game. The space quickly runs out. There are many people still to board, and they’re dragging large bags behind them. The pace of boarding slows to glacial. Eventually, everyone’s on board, but there remain 10-15 bags that require a home. The cabin crew do their damnedest, but it takes a while. The plane actually starts moving before everyone has taken their seat, which again - is not really the way it’s supposed to be.
It’s a long flight - around 11 hours. We’re fed and watered a couple of hours after take off, and Vicki and I both settle into a deep snooze. I wake up a few times feeling a little queasy, and definitely too warm. I bought myself a new travel pillow for this trip. It’s made of memory foam, which is famously hot. I remove the pillow, and fall back to sleep, waking feeling much better.
I manage about 5 hours, and Vicki nearly 6. Tam’s not one for numbers, but declares she’s well rested. The flight’s been a little turbulent. Nothing too freaky, but we’re all glad when the Captain tells us we’re beginning our descent. We land into Rio about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, which is a cracking result. The same plane is heading on to Buenos Aires after a quick refuelling stop, and as few as half the passengers are disembarking in Brazil. Passport control is completed in a flash, and our bags take next to no time to arrive. We’re packed into our cab only 30 minutes after landing, and at our hotel less than an hour after touching down. That’s some pretty good going.
There’s a minor snafu at the hotel when it transpires that www.booking.com (I always name and shame) have failed to inform the hotel that we’re turning up this early, and have paid to be able to check in on arrival. The folks at the reception desk are very understanding though, and sort us out quickly enough. The hotel’s pretty basic, but clean and comfortable. Breakfast is included, which is a bonus.We grab a coffee and snacks.
05:30 is a weird time to arrive into a new city. We’re in strange hinterland where we’re not quite tired enough to crash, but not quite jaunty enough to go out and explore. It’s also 05:30, so there’s not much currently to go and explore. We’d always planned to have a quiet (ish) day today, to give us some journey recovery time. I’m minded to have a nap…
16:30
Take THAT mofos! I have a delicious and deep two hour sleep. Much needed apparently… We head out around 12:30 for a wander around our local neighbourhood, to grab some food. We pitch up at the brilliantly named Booze Bar. Tamsin and I have our first Caipirinhas of the trip, which are sensational. Real mouth zingers. Vicki has perhaps the most memorable mocktail of her career to date - a bright pink concoction featuring rose water and lemon juice, and named ‘The Barbie.’ Were this not enough, it’s served on a pink neon contraption that just takes our breath away… We settle in for some food. It takes us a fair while to pick our dishes, largely because our Portuguese is simply not up to scratch. Google Translate is a wonderful thing though, so we end up picking moderately wisely. I have a Fejoiada, close as damn it to Brazil’s national dish. The main event is a black bean stew with pieces of fresh and cured pork. Delish.
Sated, we wander up the road towards the famous Escadaria Selarón, a vividly painted staircase in the Lapa neighbourhood. The paintings are beautiful, and there’s a very relaxed feeling in the air - whether that’s because it’s a Sunday, or just that we’re relaxing into the city, I’m not 100% sure. Tam sits for a while to people watch, and Vicki and I continue the climb to the summit. It’s further than we had perhaps intended. About 2/3 of the way up, we pause next to a Caipi stall (for that’s what they’re called), and I have my 3rd Caipirinha of the afternoon. They come in 3 sizes - large, larger and ridiculous. I go for the 500ml, middle ground option. I’m a little stunned when I see about 4 shots of Cachaca being added to it. That’s gonna leave a mark… The cost of this nectar is a little under £1.
Vicki and I complete our ascent, and wobble our way back down the stairs. It’s a somewhat vertiginous experience… We park up next to Tamsin, and join in the people watching event. There are many, many content creators, creating much, much content. We’re particularly bemused by some nuns that look like they come from the Missionaries of Charity, made famous by Mother Theresa. The bemusement is that they appear to be Nuns of Instagram, so vehemently are they posing for pictures. Oh, and there’s a chap in a rugby shirt apparently squeezing spots on his chest. Lovely.
21:00
We’re all a touch jaded. Vicks as she’s just not had much sleep, and Tamsin and I in part, I suspect, due to Caipirinhas. We agree some rest time is a good idea before we head out for some dinner. Vicki is adamant she won't nap, but by 17:30, is changing her mind. I set an alarm for 19:00, and wake up without issue. My beloved is more difficult to rouse. At 19:30, I give up, and ping Tam to let her know we’re on our own this evening. She replies that she’s exhausted and is gonna sleep it out. I pour myself a glass of wine, and settle in to read my book. I suspect I won’t be a million miles behind them…Läs mer
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