Brazil 2006

“Hi Chas. Sorry, bad news. ‘Varig’ Airlines, your carrier in Brazil, has just been taken over and all flights cancelled. Best of luck tomorrow!”

Brisbane Airport, 3¼ hours delay due to fog, with only 3 hours allocated to change flights in Auckland including baggage transfer. ‘Emirates’ Brisbane contacts ‘Aerolineas’ Auckland – baggage transferred for me, ushered first off the plane in Auckland, met by airport official, escorted to Aerolineas gate where plane was waiting for me – brilliant! DNA doing its job just fine, we’re all doomed to cooperation and happiness.

Mist rising over Rio, mountains appearing. Viewing from airport restaurant – 2 eggs, bacon, toast and a cappuccino with globules floating in it. Varig flight to Manaus this morning was indeed cancelled, which is not too unlucky as baggage is still in Auckland. Globules on 2^nd coffee are even more dense than 1^st, tastes delicious.
Plan B – been informed luggage will arrive early tomorrow. Will stay 2^nd night at airport hotel, pick up luggage and reschedule flight to Manaus.

I’ll miss initial group meeting tomorrow but will be there for Sunday’s departure. About to phone Manaus to let them know.
Difficulty calling Manaus until smart hotel clerk noticed the number I’ve been given is one digit short out of twelve.

Picked up luggage this morning and walked to terminal 2, where Varig Information desk told me my ticket was still valid, planes are flying and if I rush (push) to the front of the queue at check-in, a flight to Sao Paolo, with a connecting flight to Manaus, is about to leave. Again I am last passenger on board but make the connecting flight and finally, luggage andI together, check into ‘Hotel Des Julio’, Manaus, central Amazonas, at 4pm. Sadly, however, the rest of the group left on the river ferry at 3pm. Due to unavailability of local ferries, Ben, our leader, had decided to leave a day early, hoping that myself and one other couple would arrive in time.

AJ, our driver, who was travelling later on a barge with the truck, had been left at the hotel in case I arrived but he had walked out to get some food, just as I walked in. Unaware of the looming catastrophe, I casually unpacked a few things and washed. Then fortunately decided to call into downstairs office used by Dragoman Tours. They referred me to a note stuck on front desk. AJ arrived back to see me reading note, introduced himself, and the race was on.

AJ phones Ben on the ferry. It has been delayed and left only 20mins ago. I grab my bags, AJ grabs some bloke with a car, who high-speeds us thro’ Manaus to a jetty on the outskirts of town. Ben swings into jetty in a dinghy, as the ferry sails by, out in mid-Amazon. I throw bags and jump into dinghy, Ben introduces himself and roars out after the still-moving ferry. With the dinghy bucking in the ferry’s wash, I clamber up the tyres and ropes and my bags tossed after me. I am soaking in sweat and river-water but someone puts a beer in my hand and says, ‘Welcome Aboard’.

48 hammocks swing on deck. One is for me, anticipating my successful arrival. Kicked Gary in head a couple of times during night but being a rugby prop he didn’t notice. Boat chugs away day and night dropping off people travelling home to riverside villages after shopping in Manaus. One family unloads furniture, mattress, bed, TV, and fridge, sure-footed up the slippery, muddy riverbank. I learn how to sleep diagonally, and thereby flat, in hammock.

Switched to Carlos’s river-boat in Manicore today. Presently moored in a backwater, warm evening, beer, watching pink dolphins fishing and black and white terns diving.

Woken at dawn by splashing sounds. c.20 grey dolphins catching breakfast.

Was unprepared for the abundance of freshwater dolphins.

15 of us in a canoe on the river last night and not a life-jacket in sight. Then the fish jumped in. Ina screamed and almost jumped out. Assuming piranha, I decided not to pick up fish but to flick it out with my paddle. However I only succeeded in flicking it under Ina’s seat, at which she screamed more. Carlos caught and displayed non-piranha and returned it to river. Canoe finally stopped rocking with no loss of life. Spotted one owl.

Rest of group are off in canoe. Only me and crew on-board.

My 'Amazon Moment', alone on the River, in the Tao. Double-sized, loudly clacking kingfishers seem to resent my presence. Small black vultures circle everywhere. Some in flocks spiralling upward. More like buzzards than the large African vulture or condor but with same bare head.

4 piranha teeth in my lunch – fish/potato/egg casserole, fried battered egg-plant, and manioch makes better chips than potato. ‘Skol’ beer is as good as Australian. Am told the teeth are from a fruit eating variety. Not sure why a fruit eater needs teeth like that.

Had my 'Amazon Swim' today (I only need one), where Carlos said there were no caimans, piranhas or candiroo (the fish that swims up your penis). Did a pretty good dive off the middle deck.

Visited a village of 7 families plus their church pastor.

School is downriver but teacher off with malaria. 46 children in village, only 4 of them boys – something in the diet maybe > manioch flour, fish, monkeys and pacas (small rodent).

Lots of caimans today,

including one, sunning on the bank, with butterflies on its snout. We swung canoe round to get closer as it dozed. It finally woke and slid into the river just beside us, the butterflies only fluttering up as its nose went under. With people still getting back to their seats after photo opportunity, our guide revved the motor, swung the canoe round and almost tipped us all in the river. Caimans do attack people especially in the breeding season or when food is scarce. Still with all of us in the water, food wouldn’t be that scarce.

Scarlet macaws are like king parrots with long tails. 200+ squawking small blue-breasted parrots feeding on mineral salts in the sand-banks. The salts clear their bodies of the poisons in the fruit they eat.

It is only August and the River is already about 10m below forest floor.

That is its average finaldrop for the whole dry season, usually ending in Nov. Last year was a record low and this year will be worse. The truck ferry with AJ and Gertie (our truck) will be taking 7-8 days to follow us instead of 4-5. Ben has revised itinerary explaining we are at the fate of mother nature. I disagreed saying mother nature is gallantly trying to repel her fate at the hands of politicians and industrialists. My guess is global warming and if so, Ben needs to point it out to all his travellers, loud and clear.

Lunch – fried banana, greasy and delicious, lentil mash and fried fish still with head or tail, depending which end you get.

Forest trek – Largest swallow-tail (blue) I’ve ever seen. Orchids.

An iguana froze on its vine above my head.

Drank liana juice used by natives as immune system booster – like a mild bitter-lemon. Fished for piranha but failed, while others were pulling them in. Red piranhas are beautiful, silver on top changing to red/gold sides and below, c.15cm. Black piranhas are the bad guys growing to 30cm. They only attack large animals if food is scarce. We bought a turtle to save it from being cooked. A fisherman caught it laying its eggs. 1m nose to tail. R$ 100 = A$ 55. Back on board, we released it upstream. Then a big u-turn to rescue a parrot that had fallen in the river.

He stayed with us for an hour or two until dry, then flew off, reaching the bank to our loud cheers.

Most villages have an area of cleared jungle for the football pitch. We happened to arrive today for the start of a weekend carnival. Carlos knows one of the coaches and amazingly got me a game. Well only 5 mins because of the obviously prestigous event but I was grateful. I played for Nazare. They gave me a team shirt and a cachaca and coke. We had no ball for the warm up but danced to the music coming from the bandstand. A small pitch, 9-a-side, c. 8 teams, 20 minute games. They put me up front where I could do least damage. I only touched the ball once but impressed by controlling a high clearance from our keeper, flicking it on to a team-mate. I couldn’t do much in 5mins but my pommie fans said I made some good runs and kept the full-backs busy. We won 3-2 on penalties.

Porto Velho is crowded and dirty with alternating smells of rotting rubbish and the fried banana sold on the many street stalls. I heard the sounds of futsal emanating from an old railway shed, 08:30. Thro’ the rusty gate, up the rickety wooden stairs and there was the game, ‘shirts v no-shirts’. Ten sweaty middle-aged men having their morning exercise in this dingy shed, with its shuttered windows open wide to catch any cool breeze that the Amazon, flowing past outside, might offer them.

My last night on the Amazon.

Sitting on deck. ¾ moon and the Southern Cross just dipped over horizon. The splash of a jumping fish and the puff of a surfacing dolphin.

2 days on the truck heading for the Pantanal. My camp duty is toilet hole digger and rubbish removal. Some of the group argued that they’d rather dig their own toilet hole than share a communal pit. Ben said that meant too many holes. I suggested buying a toilet seat like we’d had in Nepal but that seemed to make the argument worse. So I assured everyone that I could dig a hole deep enough to fit all the contents, but narrow enough so people didn’t slide in. It’s a good job to have, as I don’t have to negotiate how, when, where, why, with anyone else, unlike in my cooking group, in which the conversation went -

Chas > How about something simple like ‘bangers and mash’?
Other > OK, with onions in the gravy.
Other > And garlic. Last night’s meal was good. We’ve got to do better than theirs.
Other > And we’d better make a salad.
Chas > With ‘bangers and mash’!?
Other > Should have a starter too.
Other > Yes, do you know any good dips?
Other > That dried beef and farinha was good at the wildlife lodge.
Other > Chas come back.

I fried 30 eggs for breakfast; bent the potato masher into a weird shape mashing enough for 16; and for lunch, having a language difficulty, I bought a sweet loaf with custard on top that I thought was savoury cheese – the ham and tuna sandwiches tasted terrible.

The hotel in Pocone is a real treat after 12 days. And Gary’s luggage has finally turned up, after getting lost on way to Rio. Sadly, Ine and Bart still don’t have theirs, which got lost in Madrid. Glad I stayed in Rio to collect mine.

Three major rivers meander aimlessly across the Pantanal wetlands.

It's extra dry and the waters are teaming with fish. I've never seen so many animals in one place -

brown caimans, large antlered deer, small deer, pacas, monkeys,

anteaters, giant otters, capybaras,

tapirs (tracks only), hoatzins, macaws, toucans,

jabiru storks, rheas etc. etc. but sadly no sign of a jaguar or an anaconda.

Thousands of birds of all varieties. We sat in truck’s roof seat and got close to massive storks sitting on massive nests with massive chicks, poking out their heads to stare back at us. An amazing similarity in anatomy and colour between birds here and those living in similar habitats in Australia.

Dinner at ‘home-stay’ camp-site – tomato/cucumber salad, rice, beans + sauce, upside-down cottage pie, carrots in butter and spiced chicken pieces, with a 2002 Brazilian merlot I bought for c.$13 – light on flavour and body, acid ok, low tannin = 2/10 . Back in my comfy hammock now with a final vodka and mango powder.

Off to Brasilia. Long day on truck finally ended at 8pm, to set up camp in a harvested cane field. Not many smiles. No trees to hide toilet hole, so had to erect a tent fly sheet. A disgusting weed had covered my shoes and socks with sharp, spiky seeds, so I laid out a trail for the others in the dark, navigating round the weeds. Half an hour removing the seeds after dinner, I insisted I sleep on the bus, as I still hadn’t pitched a tent. And before we leave tomorrow, I will also insist that everyone walks down the trail and uses the bloody toilet even if they don’t need to.

Camped at a service station so no toilet hole needed! No watch, so missed dawnbreakfast. Rapid de-tent. Bought cheesy roll and apple tart. The trip from Porto Velho has become a ‘bus tour’, living to other people’s timetables, needs and compromises. I don’t enjoy the search for campsites in the evening, or the early morning rush. The washing-up process is too disgusting for this microbiologist. On questioning its efficacy, I was told to shut up and get on with it. I think we have all stayed healthy in spite of the washing-up procedure, not because of it.

Brasilia is aging. The 60s’ buildings are not so spectacular any more and repairs are needed. Too much open space with few trees or gardens. Had large mango, great chicken pie and a Skol for lunch, terrific.

Was almost killed by a car tonight – closest I’ve come! A combination of a) traffic comes from other direction, b) the 6 others in our group hid the car from my sight, and c) my attention was on the two rats on the opposite footpath. Ended up in ‘Gates Pub’ nightclub. With little Portuguese, we navigated the complex, card entry system, only to be immediately sabotaged by the exit system, which we thought was still part of the entry system. Second attempt successful and I had my first ‘caipirinha’ on which I’m sold for life – 1 whole lime chopped and mashed with sugar, crushed ice, topped up with cachaca.

Arrived Sao Jorge village, just outside Chapada NP. A neat family-owned camp-site, but sadly some of our tents have just been burgled while we were around the camp fire. Ine and Bart, who still don’t know where their luggage is, have now lost their passports, tickets and some money. Luckily I again favoured my hammock, slung nearby.

Chapada is dry, low scrub country. Our guide pulled a nut kernel out of a pile of wolf droppings, broke it open and ate the nut. The wolves are small and nocturnal. The guide is an idiot.

The 2 waterfalls (80 and 100m) and gorges are scenic but not spectacular.

Sao Jorge caters for Brasilia citizens’ weekends, restaurants, new-age therapies, tourist shops. Took an $8(on special) Chilean shiraz to an outside-seating, candle-lit restaurant tonight. A baked mash-potato/chicken/mushroom/cheese dish. The wine was the best yet 4½ /10. A lovely meal. Frances, Ant and I are the only winos so we share. Last night’s Argentinian merlot was also ok, at 4/10 – I’m a hard marker. But the 2001 Brazilian cab.sauv/merlot, Ant bought at the restaurant tonight for c.$14 was a sad 1/10. I think the problem is the word ‘Brazilian’ on the label.

Ouro Preto is a small Portuguese colonial town. The campsite is lovely with humming birds in the grevillea.

Found my favourite place in town. A pousada (small hotel) has a concrete wall in front, overlooking a market selling stoneware. To the left are colonial style buildings.

To the right is a large, elegant white stone church church, beyond which is a view to the surrounding hills, with a fascinating rock formation, where an early independence revolutonary was put to death. The market has a kiosk selling my favourite lunch, two empinadas (chicken/vegie filled pastries) and a Skol. Spent the afternoon there, sitting on the wall, watching.

Discovered a restaurant with literally ‘Mush’ on the menu in its English translation. My family has our own ‘Mush’ recipe, so had to try it. Sadly, their Mush is an uninspiring polenta paste that solidifies as it cools. Went on to a concert in the town square, which was packed, with little room to dance. Frances and I went up the stone steps to the floodlit museum where we started to dance. I thought the policeman wanted to dance with us but he was upset at our apparent disrespect for the building and shooed us back down with the masses.

Hotel Paysandu, Flamengo, Rio.

Rio is a spectacular city of ‘Glasshouse Mountains’, which peevishly protrude in order to block your way. A trip across town is a dance around, through or up the mountains, setting the scene for Carnival. They rise from the sea like breaching whales, ‘Urca’s’ nose the target of the cable-car. The view is magnificent, you and Christ together among the clouds, looking down on Eden.

I thought people kept looking at me because of my hat, the locals don’t wear them. But no. It is because I am the spitting image of President Lula. Not quite as chubby but still worth a checking glance.

Rio has football courts as we have tennis courts.

We chose a restaurant in Santa Teresa (working-class district). A long, white tiled, rectangular room like a toilet with a bar halfway down one side. Crowded, raucous and great fun. Wine served in a glass or a mug. I had two mugs. Brazilian fruit cordial stuff but who cared. Pork chop, kale, beans in a purply-brown sauce and rice. Then a twenty minute walk to the samba bar with a short stop for a caipirinha at a street stall on the way. The music from a classy live samba band guided us in. You get the feeling that Rio is a place of expected indulgence. A sense of orgasm pervades, right down to the super-sweet coffee. If Islam takes over the world, Brazil will be the last country to go under.

It's a warm 24* evening and I'm sitting outside on the Rua Senador Vergueiro, enjoying my last, cleverly refreshing yet intoxicating caipirinha. Must remember to buy a bottle of cachaca at the airport tomorrow.