Serenata

Brasil is a warm country. I dont just mean the climate but the people and culture as well. I have experiences here that I could never imagine happening in the more frigid west. This is particularly true, in my experience, of the north east of the country. In Salvador complete strangers would chat to one another on the bus, sometimes the whole bus involved in the same conversation. Those sitting would carry items for those without a seat. People whistle and sing in the street and are genuinely helpful, even when confronted by awful portuguese, such as mine. It might also be the seemingly endless blue skies and green seas, but it is impossible to be in a bad mood for long when interacting with these charming and energetic people.

Other moments leave me with a feeling of deep admiration and respect for this joyous culture. Recently I participated in a Serenata in the town of Olinda. Every friday night a dozen musicians gather on the steps of a church in the center of this heritage listed neighbourhood outside the city of Recife. For many years they have brought their intruments here to play local forro music and slowly stroll through the streets. A crowd gathers to follow and sing along and beer vendors bring up the rear. The music is relaxing, easy listening, beautiful as it swells with the contribution of the 60 strong crowd, loud in the hot night. It is a sight that made my heart feel full - locals and tourists, all now friends, meandering up the cobblestone hills and raising their voices in a joyful expression of this rich culture.

Monkey Love

Communidad Inti Wara Yassi, in Bolivias south, is an animal refuge. Founded in 1994 in the house of Bolivian Juan Carlos and a group of orphan boys the organisation has swollen to provide care for hundreds of animals: pumas, jaguars, monkeys, birds, coatis and tayras, even a spectacle bear. The animals come from squalid zoos and circuses, the black market and even living rooms as families realize a jungle animal is a bad choice for a pet.

At the site the animals are fed and watered and provided with the best quality of life possible given the resources available. The ultimate aim is for reintroduction into the wild but in some cases this is impossible. CIWY is run almost completely by volunteers and relies on their donations for the upkeep of the park.

I worked with monkeys, over 50 of them, mostly Capuchin but also 4 beautiful spider monkeys. Our jobs as volunteers included cleaning their cages and play areas 3 times daily, scaring away wild monkeys that came to thieve their food, preparing them meals and snacks and providing enrichment and cuddles. Work continues regardless of the conditions so torrential rain, or worse, searing heat were a constant discomfort.

The monkeys had clear personalities, some affectionate, some bratty, some cry babies and a few biters. It was amazing to spend time interacting so closely with such intelligent and interesting creatures. Daily I would visit Vesti and Lucio. Vesti would squeal with excitement and demand a scratch whilst Lucio would insist on grooming me, face, scalp, hands, tummy, nothing was off limits. Then there was Romeo, who lived up to his name as a charmer, always wanting a cuddle. He liked to share things, particularly food and stones. Often pieces of day old fruit, pebbles and grass were stuffed into my gently protesting mouth. Camilla was the most hyperactive. She delighted in picking noses and once did so with such speed and force to give me a blood nose. A favourite of mine was Chispita, a bit of a cry baby, but she would drape herself luxuriously across your shoulders and spend time gently nibbling your fingers.

The spider monkeys were entirely different, bigger, less boisterous. Delilah and Marrucha loved to lie backwards across your lap for a tummy rub or sit quietly and be sung to. Their movement through the trees was astonishing. Their tails a fifth limb they would fly, fall and tumble through the canopy 50 metres above.

During my time at CIWY I was lucky enough to see pumas, a spectacle bear, giant jungle otter called Tayra and, most amazing, the wild sloth that lives on the site. She came down twice during my time there and remains the most beautifully ugly creature I have seen.

The animals were amazing but the heat, squalid living conditions, clouds of mosquitos, constant stream of mud, piss and shit, heat rash and 12 hour, 7 day working weeks have driven me away, back to Brasil where I continue my love affair with this country and it's people.

Island Adventures

Last weekend I went to the beach house of a Brasilian friend, with a group of 3 internationals I know from my volunteer work here. When we arrived the weather was average to poor, light misty rain to heavy downfalls and grey skies but we wanted to visit a remote beach on the nearby island Ilha Bela by 4WD track. The following morning there was sunshine so we packed the car with beer and bbq and set off to the place where the ferry would take us across.

We wanted to reach a beach called Castellanos on the far side of the mountain island. At the national park entrance we were informed that the trail was near impossible to pass due to the rains creating boggy mud. We decided to try anyway. It couldn´t be that bad! We set off, music blaring, pothole jolting, excitement rising. The trail was pretty bad but we passed over an hour with only minor bogs. After sliding down a hill, kind of sideways, with no grip whatsoever and worse yet to come we decided to walk the rest. We pulled out the esky with our bbq gear, grabbed the mossie repellent and set off through the mud. The mud proved a very effective insect repellent as we dragged ourselves through sections knee deep. Pulling, dragging and riding the esky down the mountain, covered in mud, laughing hysterically, wading rivers and wanting a swim we arrived 90 minutes later at the beach.

We were welcomed by twilight skies, clear waters, thick jungle to the sand and biting flies. A swim later we started a fire to cook our fish. Marcio almost cried on opening the esky as he realised that at the gas station he had thrown away a paper-wrapped kilo of prawns and kept the old fishheads. Nevertheless a beachside bbq ensued and the fish was amongst the best of my life.

All of a sudden it was dark and we faced either a long uphill trek and dangerous drive or a night on the beach. A local lady offered us a small bungalow, complete with breakfast, candlelit and damp, so we took it. A night of brilliant stars, campfire moments, humid sheets and frog calls.

The following morning we set out, driven by the mosquitos. The esky was lighter but the gradient steeper and the humid, hot walk took over an hour. Finally, the car! We piled in, crammed our faces with chocolate and juice, glad to be almost home. The car didn´t start, battery flattened overnight. Hmmmm. Nothing to do but wait. We had seen jeeps arrive on the beach in the morning, so it was only a matter of time before they came back up to jump start us.

Three hours later, just before sunset they came. We jump started and the kind drivers volunteered to help us back up the almost impassable trail. At times we had two small jeeps dragging our truck up the mountain through thick mud. The dark had truly deepened by the time we got to the end of the trail, seven hours after setting out from the beach. Foodless and waterless we pulled into a service station to eat pizza and pastries. The bright lights allowed a proper inspection of our bite ridden bodies.

A ferry ride and drive later and home - the beach house, a shower and a beer. Bliss.

Brasil

Observations of Brasil:

Brasilians drink coffee like the Indians drink chai; small, hot, strong and wonderfully/awfully sweet.

Whilst Brasilian women are beautiful, they are also normal. Believe it or not there is cellulite on their stunning beaches!

The language is loud and expressive, tonal, almost like singing, cute but not beautiful.

The country is full of the most amazing natural beauty - waterfalls, jungles, mountains, beaches. If there is somewhere on Earth where paradise exists, it is somewhere in Brasil.

A highlight of my time here was visiting a Samba rehearsal. The samba schools are usually closed to public, they are close-knit communities of people who often have been attending these events their whole lives. I was very lucky to have the opportunity to visit the samba school which won the Carnival competitions in Sao Paulo this year.

The percussion section must have had over 100 people with all sorts of instruments. A late start built the anticipation so that when drumming broke the silence the energy and noise were unbelievable. An older black woman belted out songs backed by electric guitars, trumpets and the percussion section. Beautiful girls danced the fast-paced Samba and shook their booties in a truly Brasilian way, accompanied by stylish men in white trousers, hats and braces. The hall rang with noise and vibrancy for almost 2 hours and left us feeling completely high on life, despite our awful attempts at samba dancing. And this was only a rehearsal. I can only imagine whole city blocks filled with these scenes during Carnival.

City Of Gold

The conquistadors that arrived in South America in the 15th Century may have been looking for a city of gold. Today, I found it.

Cusco city was built by the Inkans in the shape of a Puma, its head being a ruined fortress called Saqsayhuaman, the centre of the city being Qorikancha, the sun temple, situated at the Pumas genitals (so South American cultures have been macho since the beginning!)

Since arriving I have wondered at the Inkans incredible acomplishments. Their legacy of 600 year old ruins are phenomenal. On a recent (and wonderful) visit, my parents commented that Machu Picchu was the most impressive set of ruins they had seen, and they are very well travelled. It is the landscape that the ruins sit against; they are invariably at the top of mountains, surrounded by more mountains, lush green or higher and snow capped. They are remote and isolated, even with todays transport. It also the scale of the rocks used and perfect precision with which they are aligned to create magnificent, earthquake proof buildings. Some of the rocks weigh in at 130 tonnes. They were rolled over logs, from quarries up to 8 kilometres away, by thousands of Inkan workers. Beyond just constructing buildings, the huge stones create animals shapes, if you know where to look. Sacred animals and other symbols are also carved into the granite and limestone.

The Inkans had a intimate understanding of the sun that they worshipped. The precision with which the sun is used to create symbolism and spirituality continues to astonish me. At the solstices, shapes appear in the the shadows cast by the ruined temples; pumas, condors, people praying...

Besides designing their cities to embody sacred animal shapes, (Pisac is a condor, Ollantaytambo a llama, Machu Picchu a crocodile) they also built them to incorporate their exact knowledge of the suns movements. This morning at 6.30 I went down the hill from my house to witness ´the streets of gold´.

This phenomena occurs in the days around winter solstice. As the sun rises over the mountain it aligns precisely with a series of streets. These streets cross-section a slight incline. The sun enters the street at the bottom of the hill first, reflecting off the stone ground and walls to resemble shining gold. As the sun rises it illuminates the streets further up the hill, so one by one they light up. Looking down the road that connects them perpendicularly you can see the sunlight emerge from the end of each street, a gap of a few minutes before the next one lights up.

And so I wind up my last few days in this fabulous city, my home for the last three months. I feel sad of course, sad to goodbye my good friends, my house, the energy and vibrancy that this place emanates. But I cant complain, I am off to Brazil!

Lengua

There are 14 tenses in Spanish. At this point I know (to varying degrees!) seven of them, and I think I will leave it at that! For now anyway.

The process of learning a language, something I have never done before, has been an up and down experience. Three months ago, when I arrived in Buenos Aires, I was constantly frustrated by my lack of understanding and inability to communicate. This was a main motivation in hotfooting it to Peru, where I knew I wanted to study.

Now, after two months living in a Spanish speaking house with very patient friends, I finally feel that I can, to some degree, speak Spanish. It is immensly rewarding to be able to have chats with my juice lady in the market, make jokes and have conversations that stretch beyond name, work and nationality.

Undoubtedly it is an exhausting experience. Since Emily left two weeks ago I have spoken basically only Spanish. There comes a point in the evening where my brain can no longer formulate thoughts and my mouth can´t negotiate the acrobatics of Spanish language. But ultimately I am thrilled. I have a long way to go before I am fluent, but I can make myself understood.

There are of course hilarious moments of miscommunication. Just yesterday I asked my friend what ingredient makes a sweet rice dessert brown, a fruit or something else? He replied "Chancaca" which is a type of unrefined sugar, but I heard "Kaka", which is poo. My look of dismay ensued much laughter and a more thorough explanation.

The photo is the view from my street in San Blas.

Feliz Cumpleanos

No one can tell me why whilst feliz cumpleaños is happy birthday, the song in Spanish goes cumpleaños feliz...

Yesterday was my birthday - I am now a ripe old 23. Its custom here to celebrate the night before your birthday so that when midnight hits the fiesta starts (and doesn´t stop for the whole 24 hours!)

My wonderful friends here in Cusco took me out dancing all night and at 6am we went up the mountain to enjoy a frosty sunrise. At 7.30am I fell into bed and awoke at 11 to find some alpaca wool leg warmers and earrings, gifts from Emily. Perfect!

Thanks to everyone for your birthday wishes. I wonder where I will be this time next year....

Santa Teresa - a trip from hell to a place of paradise

Life in South america has been easy; little sickness, only minor theft of belongings, generally good times and great people. Transport had been cheap and reliable, the weather clear.

So when we decided on a weekend vist to the thermal springs at Santa Teresa we were in high spirits. I had had a cold for 4 weeks and hoped that the cleansing natural springs might help me clear it.Off we set at 6pm, for an hour and a half collectivo ride to Ollantaytambo. Easy. Change onto the 8.30pm train with only three more hours travel before our destination. Easy.

¿Por favor, que hora es el tran a Santa Teresa?

No hay, solo para Peruanas, no para extranjeros!

Que!? Turns out that the only train was only for Peruvians. Ok, a bus then.

¿Que hora es la proxima bus a Santa Teresa?

Only two hours to wait. Good. We have hot pancho and chat with the stall lady. One hour later we are sprinting after our bus that has arrive early and not stopped. Sprinting at 3500 metres is a challenge, believe me. We make it to the other side of town (it´s a small town) to grab the bus as it is pulling away. Excellent!

Hmm, only one seat left for me. My chivalrous friends take the aisle. Four bone jarringly bumpy hours later we arrive, at 1.30 am at the town where we would connect to Santa Teresa. We find a collectivo but the driver insists on waiting for more buses to fill up his van with customers.

Luckily after just one hour we are full. At 2.30am we set off for a hours drive to the springs.

Forty minutes of bumpy and bendy road later we hit a problem. Water has washed away the mountain road ahead of us. We have to turn back and use the higher road. Forty minutes back to town. The next road is also unpaved, and higher up the mountain. We dont ask the driver how long it will be, we just want to be at the springs. It takes another hour and a half. At 5.30 in the morning, exhausted, dusty, wobbled to within an inch of our sanity, we pull in to Santa Teresa town. Finally.

Now just twenty minutes walk to the springs. ¡Bien! Five minutes later the shoe of a friend breaks, leaving him to hobble on pebbly ground for a walk which now takes thirty minutes.

Twelve hours after starting our apparently 4 hours journey we are soaking in blissfull, crystalline, naturally hot water, watching the sunrise over misty green mountains and feeling completely rejuventated.

Cuisine de Cusco

There are many things to enjoy in Cusco.

My days here are rushing past, filled with spanish school in the morning and volunteer work with children in the afternoons. The weekends are filled with daytrips to the surrounding Sacred Valley, market adventures and learning to salsa!

Emily and I have a policy of trying a new food everyday. So far my favourites include:

1. Rocoto relleno, a capiscum stuffed with a tasty vegie mixture then dipped in a batter similar to the indian pakora and fried.

2. Baked plantains and whole sweet potatoes bought from wheelbarrows in the street.

3. Rustic blocks of 100% cocoa chocolate, melted with milk its a perfect warmer on these cold nights.

4. Chicha, a local wine made from maize.

5. Chicha morada, a juice made from purple corn, boiled with pineapple juice and sugar.

6. And on the subject of juices, for a dollar the ladies in the market will whip up a combinado with pineapple, papaya, mango, banana, beetroot...

7. Lilas vegetarian restaurant in the market serves a two course meal, bigger than I can manage for $1.30.

8. Piccarones. Sweet potato batter deep fried into thin donuts and served drizzled with honey.

I havent yet tried the local speciality; Cuy. Whole baked guinea pig served head, claws and all.

Maybe one day...maybe not...

PS: Blog decorations thanks to Emilys beautiful photography!

Saltitude

This past lazy week has been spent enjoying the delights of Salta, in the north west of Argentina. This small, lowrise city is surrounded by forested mountains.

Hostal Zabala was our home, a share house complete with two chefs. Many days were spent simply preparing amazing food for the group of 10, 12, 15 people at a time. Meals were enjoyed with wine and followed by a dip in the pool and a ping pong tournament. What a life.

After a delightful week we have hit the road. And what a road! The landscapes in this part of the continent are truly breathtaking and undescribable in their variety. We passed through huge mountains, completely naked of all vegetation, red rock bare, reminiscent of Mars. Salt flats shone bright white on plateaus and candelabra cacti, 6 metres tall, covered plains. Wild llama roamed and gauchos rode bareback between small mud brick villages. Huge snow capped mountains provided the backdrop.

At the border crossing to Chile we piled out of the climate controlled bus to have our passports stamped. The air was fresh and frigid but the sun roasting hot. Emily and I joined the line and enjoyed the view. As I was standing there the strangest feeling came upon me. I began to get nauseous and weak. My arms and legs were tingling. I thought, Jeez, what was in that carrot I just ate? I sat on the ground for a moment with my eyes closed and breathed deeply. The line moved forward so up I got. On my feet I started to lose vision and balance and wobbled around before collapsing down. Emily says my face went completely white, my lips grey and she raced to get the water from the bus. Before she could return a guard whisked me to the medical room, containing nothing but an oxygen tank. After 5 minutes of deep breathing I was back to normal, my first experience with altitude sickness over. We had climbed almost 5000 metres above sea level. It was a complete shock but I was pleased to learn that the remedies include eating lots of delicious sugary food!

Big Water

I wish now that I had made more effort to watch David Attenboroughs docmentary on the Iguazu Falls. To know something about the ecology of the park would have enhanced the visit tenfold. The name Iguazu in the local language translates as big water.

The falls were, as promised, spectacular. Huge torrents of water plunging over plant covered cliffs, birds of prey circling above in the updraft, cicadas and tropical birds filling the thick, wam air with sound.

We balanced on boardwalks to view the falls from three heights. Some walks went right over the top of falls, another went underneath. The final one took you over mangrove islands to the top of the largest fall. The violence of the water was such that you couldn´t see the river below; mist from the flow obscured the view.

The visit was disappointingly impersonal. Surrouded by tourists it was difficult to feel a connection to the place, despite appreciating the beauty. The highlight for me was the wildlife. In just one day, without looking very hard we saw a family of coaties, wild guinea pigs, a caiman chilling in the water, catfish, a furry, wild pig looking thing, mokeys, a toad almost the size of a football, countless lizards and birds, and butterflies. Butterflies of every shape, size and colour swarmed through the air creating clouds of brilliance.

The day ended with a three kilometre walk through the jungle to find a small fall that was off the beaten track and thus,we hoped, less tourist infested. It was sweltering hot and we were depserate for a swim. The pool under this distant fall is the only swimming place in the park. After 40 sweaty minutes of walking we were delighted to find a beatiful, slender fall with a natural pool and granite rocks for sunbathing. And only a few young folk like ourselves enjoying it! Again the butterflies had gathered to show off their stripes. Lying in the fall, with a group of butterflies surroundng me, enjoying the sunshine, was a profoundly peaceful experience.

La Chica Loca

Every country I go people struggle to pronounce my name. On introductions the inevitable question "Whats your name?" And the reply of course "Gracie".

This is often met by a moment of silence before the confused person clarifies "Crazy? Your name is Crazy?"

No, Gracie, with a G as in... (insert word of local language that starts with G) ...But you can call me Crazy!

Here in South America I am Gracia, Graciella or La Chica Loca.

Last night this crazy girl got herself some tango. We visited the local milonga where people gather in a plaza to dance every weekend. The evening attracts all types; elegant elderly couples who are keeping the romance alive, young couples, basically coupling on the dancefloor, pros, decked out in spangles and glitter with hats and high high heels on the cobblestones.

Young peruvians sell beautiful handmade jewelry and people gather from all over to enjoy the spectacle, music and energy in the air. This is a city that doesn´t sleep.

I attempted to learn a few basics off a local. I am quite pigeon toed and generally not very coordinated but nothing was going to stop me! A great final night in this beautiful city.

Next stop Puerto Iguazu and the spectacular falls.

To pack or not to pack...

When discussing my impending travels with various people I was told that I definitely needed a 65 litre pack filled with everything from rain gear to hiking gear to medicines and antibiotics that I certainly wouldn´t find in South America.

Contrary to most advice I left the country with a 40 litre pack weighing in at 10.5 kilos. After a week on the road I have found myself wanting of nothing, and surprisingly there are shops where I can top up supplies as I need them (a rain jacket is first on the list).

My luxury items include; a shower cap, to prevent unwanted frizziness of hair due to steamy showers; a small travel guitar, perfect for rainy days in and a great conversation starter; jeans, not the most practical as they´re harder to wash and dry but an essential for me regardless.

Most useful items so far; my watch, a chunky casio, waterproof, alarm clock and with the day and date, perfect when time seems to bend during travel; croc shoes, great grip on slippy slidewalks, mud resistant and can pass as going out shoes; my toiletries bag, it can hang from hooks in the bathroom providing complete access to everything.

So another day in Buenos Aires beckons with its tango and steak and local porteño attitude. This is a beautiful city, packed with people and pastries and a universal love of dulce de leche, a caramel like sweet that is eaten with everything.

Everything happens in the street; from political activism to markets, tango to live music, even verging on obscene displays of affection between couples. Brazilian percussionists busk on the subway, orchestras appear on the sidewalk and street art abounds.

This city is sexy. There is a lot of money around (amongst a lucky few), the people are elegant and passionate. The traffic is aggressive and fast, the numerous parks manicured and relaxing. The architecture is grand, the subway hot, the food impressive. There is a lot to like in Buenos Aires and a lot to do.

Check me out at the hostel here (a real home from home). The brunette in front is Canadian Emily who I will travel with for a while.