And then there was one.....

Just a quick update to let you know that I´m now going solo as my travelling partner ditched me (by email! Apparently I didn´t want to do the same things she did blah, blah, blah) I am nervous, very - and have had a few sleepless nights but have decided to go on and see how it goes.

Please don´t worry, I will be OK. There are gringos everywhere, plus I met a lovely girl, Louise, in Rio so we´re travelling together for a bit.

We´re in Salvador right now, staying in the Pelirinho - the pretty, cobbled old part of the city with a very dark history. Went to my first candomble ceremony the other night. Was relieved yet disappointed not to be witness to any exorcisms, psychotropic drug taking or sacrificial rites. Just a load of women in big lacy dresses and fancy head dresses dancing in a trancelike fashion to some hypnotic drums.

We area eating wonderful mocqueca (traditional Bahian stew without the fish brain juice I unwittingly consumed in Rio!) and falling asleep most nights to the sound of the most amazing drums.

Leaving today though and am looking forward to it since my camera was ripped off from across my body yesterday. Have a sneaky feeling the kids sell them back to the shops so at least have done my bit for the local economy....

Life in the favela

I had mixed feelings about a favela tour. I didn´t want to be a typical gringo, gawping at those less fortunate as if they were animals in a zoo. It was only when I learned that the money we contribute is used by NGO´s to support the favela, that I justified the trip. Besides, I reasoned, you can´t ignore something that is intrinsically such a huge part of life in Rio. Just sweep it under the carpet while we carry on enjoying life in well-to-do Ipanema.

The tour started with a hair-raising motorbike taxi ride, dodging and weaving trucks, buses and cars at breakneck speed up to the very top. Rocinha is a sprawling hillside neighbourhood. The biggest favela in South America.

The narrow network of streets were designed that way, apparently, to make police evasion easier. People on lookouts inform of police arrival with use of flares. However, we were told that incidents between law enforcers and residents occur on a daily basis. And usually involve guns.

We were given one rule; do not take photos of men with guns or walkie talkies. Dealers do not take kindly to being imortalised in a gringo´s holiday pics. We started a rapid decent (didn´t do to dawdle) through one of the main arteries of the favela (street 1) It was hard to imagine this narrow, dark, dirty, rubbish, excrement-filled passageway as a main street. The stench of open sewer clawed at my throat and as I stepped in puddles of unidentified liquids, I wished I had worn something more practical than flip-flops.

Drugs earn the favela between $US 1-3 million a month, by which time half a tonne of cocaine has changed hands. The ADA (amigo de amigos) are the controlling gang. Disputes among rivals are common.

Other than that, life carried on as normal. People enjoyed the benefits of electricity and running water. Most have mod cons and government subsidised cable TV. The locals were friendly and welcoming. We visited a gallery, a bakery (keen to capitalise on a recent visit from Lenny kravitz, they sold ´Kravitz bread pudding´) and saw where our money went when we visited a nursery. Adorable, smiling, happy little faces made me sad as i realised that many of their parents couldn´t afford to look after them and couln´t help wondering what their future might hold. Decent education is a priviledge of the rich.

Despite this, the sky was full of evidence of children enjoying their holidays. Kites twitched and fluttered over the multitude of decripit roof tops, some kids taunted us with the only English vocab they knew ´Gringo´, ´money´, ´photo´.....

Really glad I came but left, intrigued wanting to experience and learn more frustrated by the fact the only (safe) way to do so is on the internet.....

January River

It´s difficult to write about Rio retrospectively. I didn´t think I´d find a beach city - bar Barcelona - much cooler than Brighton. Rio for all its dangers, is intoxicating. We came for two days, wound up staying as many weeks and i still don´t want to leave.

Its green hills and mountains, magnificent bays and glittering harbour humbled by Christ the Redeemer, make it unforgettable. Coupled with Latinos, immaculate bodies in thongs and speedos on crowded sand, sexy Samba rhythms emanating from bars, caipirhinas, uppercrust Ipanema, poodles in socks, vine-entangled trees on cobblestone streets, hillside favelas, nighttime shotgun sounds made incongruous by the rising sun.

We tore ourselves away for a few days of tranquility in Paraty - a four hour bus ride south of Rio. A sleepy town, row apon row of pretty whitewashed houses, huge cobbles, bohemian boutiques, boat trips ferrying tourists to the many neighbouring islands. Only a world-famous literary festival and rising prices forced us out.

I write this looking out over a bay of fishing boats, the sound of waves lapping at the shore. Thick green hills, tops obscured by cloud. Palm fringed beaches and it must be said, an abundance of 19-year old Brits on the lovely Ilha Grande.

An overcast day, we´re saving one of the many beautiful beaches for tomorrow. Was considering an island trek until the mention of poisonous snakes persuaded me to sit here instead....