Buenos Aires

We reached the capital city with a sense of anticipation. From what we had read and heard, BA promised to be quite cosmopolitan with lots of sights and attractions, and we were looking forward to spending some quality time in one place.

We arrived from our long bus journey relatively fresh. The coach had been a "Cama Suite" which was basically like traveling first class on a plane. We had fully reclining seats and food and drink on tap. The added bonus was that we were able to sleep soundly, which is something that we´d been unable to do on our other bus trips. When we reached the bus station it was chaos. Rows of other coaches paved the avenue leading to the station, and we were gridlocked like this for sometime.

As we had arrived relatively early we were unable to check into our hostel, so we dropped our bags off and started our investigation of the city. Walking down one length of Avenida de Mayo from our lodgings we reached the House of Congress, which also seemed to be the backyard for quite a few homeless souls. The other end of the Avenue had much more appeal, with the Casa Rosada nestled amongst pristine green grounds. The "Pink House" was, of course, where Evita roused the crowds with her passionate speeches, and for some reason I spent the rest of the day humming "Don´t Cry For Me Argentina"..... Anyway, we walked though some more green spots, and then down the hustle and bustle of Florida Avenue, part of the main shopping area.

By the time we got back we were pretty cream crackered. It was then that I noticed that the front compartments of the bag James had been carrying on his back had been zipped wide open. It sent us reeling, and whilst we were checking-in I was frantically making sure that nothing was missing. Luckily they had not got into the main compartment of the bag (where our camera was) - funnily enough the wouldbe robber wasn´t that interested in screwed-up tissues and half a packet of chewing gum. We took this as a warning shot, and we were even more vigilant than we had been before.

Our hostel was in a gorgeous building with an antique gate lift and bags of character. It was very sociable with a dining area, as well as a roof terrace bar. We were also stopping with some great people, which really helped. We discovered that one of the girls in my dorm had had her camera stolen just the day before, and we had heard of attempted thefts from others. This well and truly shattered our idea that BA was a very safe city.

The second day was a pilgrimage to the cemetary where Evita was buried. It was like a smaller scale of the one found in Havanna (which literally has roads and mini houses). We completed the day with a walking tour suggested by Lonely Planet, which took us to sights just outside the cemetary, including a large metal sculpture of a flower, which closes at night.

Having decided that we weren´t living life dangerously enough, we thought that we would take a walk into one of the most dangerous neighbourhoods in the country on the third day. My friend had been held at gunpoint there just last year, but this had been at night after a football match. We had done our research and found that it was safe enough during the day, as long as we kept to the overrun tourist destinations and didn´t stray far. This payed off for us, as we were able to see the La Boca Junior stadium. We opted for a tour of the grounds, which gained us entry into the dressing rooms and the pitch - it was a far cry from the plush facilities at the Emirates or Wembley. Still, there was a real atmosphere to the place, which was helped by the crazed fans who lived in the surrounding houses, which were all painted blue and yellow. One was blasting out La Boca anthems, waving his scarf and singing his lungs out.

In the afternoon we took a stroll into a pretty little part of the city called Caminito. The cobbled streets were lined with brightly-painted, corrugated houses. The touristy part was riddled with touts trying to entice you into their restaurant with a promise of tangos shows (which they had outside anyway - the average passerby could see). There were also local artists selling their work, most of which were gawdy and obtrusive. After this we hopped off the bus a few stops early and wound our way through the markets and antique fairs of San Telmo. It was here that we found the most divine, aromatic peaches ever to have been grown on the planet (can you believe I blogged it!).

That night we had quite a few beers on the rooftop bar. The chatter with our fellow travellers was as free flowing as the alcohol, and before we knew it, it was 4am.

Our penultimate day in BA saw us taking a trip to the suburb of Palemero. We were both hungover from the night before, so took it easy by having a picnic in the shady benches in the botanical gardens. This was followed by a most informative and incredibly interesting walk around the Evita Museum (our knowledge of this icon is no longer sourced from Mr. Lloyd-Webber).

Although we promised ourselves an early night, the rooftop bar drew us like a moth to a flame...well, it would have been rude to have left our new found friends all alone up there... We were slightly more well behaved, and managed to crawl into bed an hour earlier than the night before.

Waiting around on the final day was tough. We knew we had to leave, and so didn´t want to wander too far from the hostel, plus the searing heat rendered us near helpless. We said our goodbyes to everyone, and left for the station, which was even more meyhem that when we had arrived. The multitude of people was baffling; everyone walking with such a sense of purpose that it was hard not to get swept along. We almost missed our coach, despite getting to the station over 45mins early, as we hadn´t realised that Puerto Madryn was only a stop off and not the final destination. We had 17 hours to calm down from the confusion, and were relieved that we had made it.

Puerto Iguazú (Argentina)

(OK, so just to confuse us they spell the falls a different way in Argentina....)

After the very relaxing day at Hostel Natura, we decided to make our way across the Brazillian-Argentine border. It´s a bit of a pain actually; you catch a bus to the Brazillian border control who stamp you out, then wait for another bus to take you to the Argentinian border control who stamp you in, and then a third one to take you into town. Apart from the bus changes the whole thing was done with such ease that we could´ve danced over the border. Plus we got another 2 pretty stamps in our passports, much to the delight of my hubby.

We both noticed such a difference when crossing into Argentina. Puerto is a lot less built up than Foz, which is a pretty large city, and in comparison seemed very quaint. Our hostel was half way between the town and the falls, and was the biggest one that we´ve stopped in to date - it had a massive swimming pool and live shows on Sat night, we thought we´d wondered into a hotel resort! Wasting no time at all, we hopped onto the bus to the falls.

Before we went we agreed that the Argentinians would have to go a looooong way to beat the Brazillian side, but we were to be amazed. The park this side was much more natural and a lot less "Disney" than over the border, and a pretty walk soon took us to some of the most sublime scenery that we have ever seen.

The upper walk lead us on walkways over the tops of the falls, including galleries teetering on the edge of the drop. The lower walk was a much wetter experience, with paths shooting underneath the towering falls; a much welcomed soak in the heat and humidity. It seemed that the farther we went along the trail, the path uncovered even better vistas. We even managed to cross paths with an Armadillo, which has to be one of the funniest looking creatures on the planet (he probably said the same thing about me!). Hardly surprising that we managed to fill up our first memory card and run out of batteries. As the park was closing and we still hard more to see, we agreed to return for a second, half-priced day.

The next day we boarded the tiny tourist train in the park, which chugged it´s way at a startling 7km/hr, up to the "Devil´s Throat". The walkway brought us over the top of a section which was a thundering beast of a fall, where the water races to get over the edge, violently clashing together into a milky mass of foam and spray. It really was awe inspiring.

For more pictures please visit http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=98873&l=087f8&id=672281557 (you don´t need to have a facebook account to view them)

That evening there was a BBQ at the hostel. As I mentioned before, there was show on Saturday nights with dancers and entertainers. It was all a bit cheeseville for us, so we opted to stuff our faced with succulent Argentinian steak and talk all night to a lovely and incredibly interesting couple from Buenos Aires.

On Sunday we spent the day wandering around the town. There really wasn´t enough to hold our interest for the several hours we needed to hang around for our bus, especially as a lot of the shops were shut. We did have a 17 hour bus journey to look forward to though(!) which would take us to the Capital City.

Foz Do Iguaçu (Brazil)

Hey all, this is James. Mel has been working hard on the blog keeping you all up to date, so I thought it only fair that I should do an update also.
After leaving Ihla Do Mel we jumped on the boat and local bus back to Curitiba in preperation for our 10 hour bus journey to Foz Do Iguaçu, a destination that we were both pretty excited about, as it would give us our first opportunity of seeing the world famous falls.
The bus journey was pretty good, as the seat recline back to the point where you are virtually lying down, so you do get a decent night sleep during the trip.

We arrived at Foz and had to meet a friend of ours called Dean, who we had met during our stay at the Mango Tree Hostel in Rio. Dean had left his walking boots at the hostel and contacted us via the hostel to ask whether we would mind taking his boots to Foz with us and arrange to meet him there so he could get them back. Being the lovely people that we are, we agreed and meet him at the bus station. He was obviously pretty pleased at getting his boots back and as a thank you bought us breakfast.

After that we jumped on a bus into Foz town centre to make our way to our hostel. We had chosen a hostel that was about 13km outside of town, inbetween the town and the falls, but we had no idea how to get there, fortunately it was not that complicated and we managed to figure out which local buses we had to take to get us there. The final bus took us down a tarmac road for about a mile, which eventually turned into just a dirt track. At this point Mel and I looked at each other with the kind of expression that said "Where the hell are we going here". The bus then suddenly stopped, still no hostel in sight, and the bus driver said, in Spanish, "Walk down the track and the hostel is on the right", at least we thought that is what he said. We found ourselves standing on a dirt track in the middle of farming fields as far as the eye could see, with the exception of one farm house, and we started to wonder what we had done.

We followed the drivers insturcions and after about 10 minutes of walking we came across a long driveway, sign posted Hostel Natura, which led to two buildings. It was upon arriving at the bulidngs we realised why we had chosen to stay at the hostel. It was set in about 4 acres of land with two large fishing lakes at one end, around which was plenty of land for us to pitch our tent. The main hostel building had a huge common room in the open air, which had a bar, table football, pool table, huge sofas and a swimming pool. It was pretty much perfect. After pitching our tent and washing up it was time to head to the falls.

The "Cataratas" were only about 10 minutes bus journey from the hostel. When we got there we opted to jump off the National Parks internal bus a little early and take the forest walk, which approached the falls from about a mile back from the main "Devils Throat" section of the falls. During the last week we had been talking to people regarding the falls and everyone had told us that the Argentine side of the falls was better than the Brazillian side, so we didn´t really know how good the views would be.

As we approached the falls, the thunderous crashing of the water was heard before we actually caught a glimpse, and when we did finally get our first sighting, the rush of shear excitement was pretty intense. The falls spread over an area approximately 1km long and consist of approx 275 seperate falls, so they are far too big to catch all in one eye shot, plus there are rock formations and dense forests that split the various sections. The Brazillian government really has made the most of the National Park as a tourist attraction by constructing several walkways that take you over and pretty much into the falls. This, in one way, takes away a little of the natural beauty of what must be one of the most beautiful natural sites in the world, but on the plus side does give the public the opportunity to get very up close and personal with the falls.

The main walkway on the Brazilian side takes you on a somewhat tentative walk over the top and infront of one of the most fierce parts of the falls. The main section of the walkway puts you face to face with a waterfall about 100m long and 30m high. The winds created by the millions of litres of water crashing down completely engulf you, and the spray drenches you from head to toe. It truely is an amazing experience and certainly one that we will never forget. You can view all the photos at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=84335&l=2dce3&id=676112322 (you don´t need a facebook account to view them).

After a couple of hours we were both feeling pretty tired so decided to head back to the hostel for a siesta. That night we decided to stay at the hostel to eat as they were preparing a Brazilian buffet. The food was great and we spent the night getting to know some great people from the U.S., Belgium and the U.K. over a few games of table football and pool. Mel learnt that Josh, the guy from the U.S., was inbetween jobs, so decided to spend the majority of the night giving him Careers Guidance. During the evening we were also treated to an amazing 3 hour electrical storm that completely lit up the night sky.

The following morning we decided that we would have our first lazy day of the trip, and as the hostel was in such a beautiful spot, it seemed like the perfect place to do it. We ended up having a 3 hour long breakfast with everyone we had met the previous night, then chilled out by the pool for the rest of the day. That afternoon we met another lovely couple from Jersey who we ended up spending the rest of the day and night with.

Ilha Do Mel

Yep, you guessed it. We found our way to an island named after me! Only a 13 hour overnight bus ride + another 2 hour bus ride + 30 min boat journey away (I suppose we´d better get used to these long distances) and we´d arrived in Ilha Do Mel.

The island is relatively small, with an intricate web of winding paths that take you in all directions over this sandy strip of land. There are no cars there, which all add to the allure of the place, and many Brazillian surfers populate the pousadas and campsites. We had read about a great place to pitch our tent, just a short distance from the getty. Unfortunately the signs took us the long way around, and 30mins later we were still trekking about the island in the sweltering heat with our backpacks firmly strapped to our backs. When we finally got there we discovered that we couldn´t actually camp there, and the rooms we extortionate!




So, off we trotted to the nearest place that we could find. It wasn´t so much of a campsite, rather just a family who had decided to let people sling up their tents in their back garden. The facilities we basic to say the very least, and we could hardly believe that the family actually lived like that permanently. The one thing that the place had going for it was that it was central to the island which meant that we could explore.

We went for a stretch out on the quiet beach nearby and for a swim in the warm waters, and later went for dinner at a really dinky little place. Luckily I´d packed the torches, as there were no lights to guide us back to our tent.


Those of you who know me will know that I´m a creature of comfort, and that the idea of spending any time in a tent isn´t particularly my idea of heaven. However, as we´re on a budget I agreed that it would be a good way to save the pennies. Our tent is an incredibly small, incredibly light trekking tent, which is great for when it´s being carried around (by James, god bless him), but this means that when it´s erected that it´s pretty darn small also. We made the mistake of also trying to fit our backpacks in there too. So we´re cramped, hot and sandy, with the family´s TV blarring out and their young child crying the house down every 2 minutes, not to mention the deafening sound of the crickets and the raucous laughter of revellers. James is catching Zs already, but my eyes are pinned open. I daren´t open the tent to let the air in due to the fact that the mossies had already made quite a meal of me in Rio (apparently I´m quite a delicacy). I think you can guess how much sleep I had. OK, moan over!




The next day more than made up for it though. We went for a walk up to the lighthouse to see stunning views of the 3 beaches around us. We then walked along the length of one of these, and finally settled to eat lunch and sunbathe on another. That night I slept a lot more soundly as we evicted our bags and I bathed in repellent in order to have a bit of ventillation in the tent.







On Tuesday morning we awoke early and packed up. We were on our way to Foz, and the promise of one of the most stunning sights in the world... The next entry should be coming from the up-till-now silent Mr Wilcox, and he´s got some good subject matter to sink his teeth into.

Rio De Janeiro

Sorry for the slow start to the blog, it's just that things here have been pretty non-stop, and when I have had chance there hasn't been a computer free.

Anyway, we arrived in Rio late on Tues 6th Jan. The weather was humid but drizzly and when we got to the hostel we were told it had been like that for the past week. "Great" we thought, but luckily the next morning we arose to blue skies, sunshine and a very respectable 27C. The hostel is set in the most perfect position, just one block from Ipanema beach, which is the most stunningly set stretch of water that we've ever seen.


True to form, that day we walked and walked; all along Ipanema and then followed by Copacabana. The latter beach took me a bit by surprise, as it's much grittier than Ipanema, with a colourful array of folk all over the silky white sands. In the afternoon we went up to Christ the Redeemer - how they can make a lump of concrete look so beautiful is beyond me, but the statue gracefully peers down over the city from its heavenly position.




Day two we took the cablecar to Sugarloaf Mountain. Impressive views of the city made the hot and steamy queue worth while. Unfortunately by the time we got the the second (and the highest) peak clouds began to creep up from the sea and froth over the mountain top.



The bus drivers over here are pretty crazy, but with a flat fee of R$2.20 it's the cheapest way to get around. What we didn't realise was that the bus to the mountain was a circular, and so the ride back made for an interesting detour. We decided to jump off and visit the city's exenstive Botanical Gardens, which was a very relaxing way to finish the day out.

During the evening we went for a few drinks with some friends that we'd made in the hostel. I thought it would be a really good idea to try the local beverage, Caipirinha, which is a cocktail made from cachaça, sugar and lime (cachaça is Brazil's most common spirit and is a bit like rum as it's made from sugarcane). A few drinks and hours later I'm staggering back to the hostel, laughing my head off and telling James that I'm going to do the washing when I get in.

Funnily enough I wasn't feeling too good on Friday morning, in fact, I didn't really see Friday morning. Luckily we'd already agreed to spend the day on Ipanema beach. I scrapped my sorry self out of bed and we made our way to the shore. It took about 3 hours and a couple of dips in the wild sea before I felt anywhere near human again, and I swore that I wouldn't touch evil Caipirinhas again. James showed his support by feeding and watering me, and also giving reminders that there were worse places in the world to be suffering from a hangover!

Today we find ourselves having to leave this wonderful city, as we head southwest for a place called Curitiba, and then onto a small island. However that didn't stop us from having another great day on Ipanema beach with our new friends and aquiring quite a few tanlines along the way.