My Gift

My time in South America is coming to an end. Just another five weeks before I head home to enjoy the arrival of my first niece or nephew. For my small family its a very exciting event!

I left Australia expecting many things; to learn Spanish, see many latin countries, get parasites, be robbed.... I certainly didnt expect to see just 4 countries, forget all my Spanish and get engaged to a Brasilian!

My gift from Brasil has been Marcio. From the first months with him I knew, more than I have known anything in my life, that he was the one for me.

I don't know if there are good reasons to love someone. Marcio inspires love in so many ways. I love him for being reasonable, for being resourceful, for being honest and open minded and for opening my eyes about many things in the world. I love his sense of fairness and how after just these 7 months he seems to know me better than I know myself. I love the sense of security I feel with him, that no matter how many mistakes I make he will be there by my side. I love his pragmatic view of the future, mixed with just a touch of romanticism. I love how he appreciates me in all my weaknesses. I love to cook with him, where one suggestion can cause an avalanche of recipe ideas to be tried. I love him as my muse and my partner for life.

He is one of a kind and I can´t wait for you all to meet him this year!

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.