The 20 hour bus from Pipa to Salvador wasn´t too painful. One downside was the proximity of our seats to the toilet, which seemed to be directly above the buses engine as the temperature in there was unbearable. By the 20 hour mark, the smell of cooking urine was pretty potent.
We also noticed how our feet and ankles had swollen up, and so we strolled into Salvador looking like old women with peripheral edema.
Salvdor was amazing. It's tricky to put a finger on why we loved the place so much, the energy there just gives it a big atmosphere and charm right around the clock. Our hostel definitely added to our experience. a sweaty walk up hill to find it would have broken lesser men, especially as the Clam Man´s sweaty feet slipped off his flipflops and broke them, however we battled through and found it. our poor-tugese hindered us again here when it came to asking for directions. with the name of the hostel being Nega Maluca, translating as Crazy Black Woman, we did not want to just walk up to a local requesting "Crazy Black Woman??". once we found the hostel and saw a few familiar faces staying there, we were confident it was going to be a fun few days.
on our third day in Salvador, we took a bus with some Chilean girls from the hostel to a beach town up the coast called Arambepe, which was put on the map by Mick Jagger and Janis Joplin in their day. there were two highlights of the day - first, similar to the funeral scenes in Live And Let Die, a brass band appeared on the beach followed by a parade of people carrying huge bouquets. this was apparently a celebration for St Francis, supposedly ensuring a good years fishing to come. the next highlight came at a turtle sanctuary. normally not too exciting one would think, however one of the female turtles was putting it about all round the enclosure. in the ten minutes we were there, we saw three studly gentleman turtles mount her shell and give her some of the good stuff. lesson of the day - male turtles make quite disturbing sex noises (Team Kos reference; think Poob "mheeeee mheeee"). this turned out to be the theme of the day, as on the way home we witnessed two dogs at it followed by a local lad with a dog up his leg. unfortunately for the two singletons in our group, this is where the action ended. some great nights were had in Salvador, but retelling stories of drinking and drunken jokes is only really amusing for those involved, so they can be spared.
Rio. Carnival.
what a week! it was great to be back in Rio, and Ipanema was definitely the place to be. our first day back set the standard of things to come...
for a start, there are worse things to do than spend the day on Ipanema beach. no matter what your preference, the people are unbelievable looking. after initial doubts about our hostel due to the abundance of english and ozzie voices around we soon settled in and the good times rolled. the first night started with the bar´s generous offer of free Caipirinhas from 8-8.30, and joined by the two ozzie galahs from our room we got the first order in at 7.59, the target being three in the thirty minute time frame. me and the big guy (Ben) quite impressively managed four, but slightly less impressively all four of mine ended up in and around our dorm toilet subsequently put me to bed by 10.30. whilst i was whiling away the evening hours in bed, the womaniser that is the Clamster was putting in the usual moves on an american girl, not yet a woman, called Britney. somehow the toxic Caipirinhas made him irresistible to her, and with cries of "hit me baby on more time" and "im a slave for you" coming from the empty dorm next to ours, we realised that the Clamster´s international account had been opened.
so, Carnival. the highlight was definitely the Bloco parties, consisting of a truck with dancers and a music band on top, driving through the streets followed by thousands of stampeding giddy revellers. the best day of our trip so far came in the form of a Bloco along Ipanema beach front. starting at 3pm armed with a bottle of warm vodka martini, some hoola skirts, and pink bonnets, we hit the streets and got the real Carnival experience. the warm and rather alcoholic concoction led us to believe that dropping the shorts at 4oclock in the afternoon on what is essentially a family beach was a good idea. fortunately the only arse appearing on camera was that of Clam (hopefully i am not speaking too soon as there were other photographers present). speaking of Clammy (who at these early stages is odds on to be the focus of this blog); his second victim, this time an ozzie girl with the last name 'Hoffbauer' engaged him in a bit of smooching on the beach - harmless enough, especially with two good friends like Ste and myself nearby ready to begin cries of "semi" at the first sign of trouble. a prompt dive into the sand allowed things to settle down and restore some dignity and a few minutes later, Clammy Man was back up on his feet and the party continued. although we had been pegged for a ten o'clock bedtime by our fellow hostellers we carried on with the voddy martini until 3.30am. at this point Ste and myself headed to bed, leaving Clam out to carry on his hunting. Ste was woken up in the early hours by the man himself entering our dorm sporting nothing but his pink bonnet covering his dignity(?). however the hat was hands free, due to Hammy coming straight from his third successful hunt, this time on the stairway up to our fifth floor room.
the following morning the discovery outside our door of Clam's shorts, and a condom wrapper on a plate filled in the blanks. this was the day of our hanglide over Rio. with a hangover that could have slain a walrus, we headed off with our prick of a pilot 'Mosquito'. the experience itself was incredible however, the ten minutes airbourne was accompanied by a frustrating 9 hour day of waiting around.
other highlights of our week in Rio included a favela tour, a party on Ipanema beach, and an ill-advised 4am dip in the ocean - although with three lads wearing hoola skirts, what thieves in their right mind would try it??!!
from Rio we boarded the bus to Angra and from there the boat to the paradise island of Ihla Grande - paradise is currently awaiting some sunshine, but we are hopeful.
the nicknames:
Gra - Gram, due to lack of pronounciation from the forgeiners. Graham Morcambe Dorcambe Clark, similar reasons.
Ste - Stevie G, a pet name from the ozzie boys.
Me - The Chiefton, also from the ozzies, not overly sure why.
08.02.10
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