Trailing the Incas

Now I know I have been back in the UK for over a month, which is more than sufficient enough time to fill everyone in on what I have done, and bore people to tears with my stories...and I bet you breathed a sigh of relief that the blog was over. That you no longer had to read pages and pages of my trip then sound interested over skype/email...but weirdly I have had a couple of requests to finish my blog. Apologies to everyone else who did not request this. You can close the page and I will forgive you, and I promise I will not be disappointed if you never mention this every again.

So I reckon I should re-start where I left off.

The Inca Trail. Something I was quite nervous about....especially as I started making some lovely hacking, phlemy noises in the morning, and I was truely terrified about not only walking for 4 days but tackling it with what I guessed was a chest infection. So having armed myself with medicines, anti-biotics and some good old fashioned British courage (okay so in reality I panicked and cried before going...but I like to make myself sound brave!) off we went.

After oversleeping and running out of the hostel, we boarded the coach and got taken to km 82. The start of the Inca Trail. Having put on my backpack, and seeing all the other trekkers with their tiny daypacks, I started wishing that I had spent the money on an extra porter. Resigned to my fate of walking at the back of the group, we took pictures of our group of 16 then started walking.

The group was nice and mixed, Bill and Heather (Mum and Dad of the group) were 58 and 63 respectively, the 3 Aussies, the 2 Finnish, the 3 northern girls (who brought make up! Seriously. Who feels it is necessary to wear blusher on a 4 day trek? Girls from Burnley and Liverpool obviously! Okay rant over...), 2 other British girls and us 4.

But despite the chest infection, the backpack and the altitude, I found I was never quite at the back of the group...which, with my competitive streak, I was very pleased about. Despite that though I never quite made it to each rest point first or looking as calm, relaxed, fit and healthy as Bill and Heather, or as beautifully made up as the Northern girls...but I don't think that would have been achieved by anyone except maybe Kate Moss.

By the end of Day 1 we had all made friends and happily slept through the night (which sounds weird but at altitude its hard to sleep). It was an easy(ish) walk really, and it was really fun to sleep at 9pm.

Day 2 was the "hard day"...so in fear we all paid an extra £20 for a porter to carry our things, which gave my back the day off it needed, and so carrying my provisions in a Santa-style carrier bag over my shoulder, we tackled the highest part of the trek. At 4200 metres (13770 feet) Dead Womans pass is a mighty climb. Relentless and what felt like a million steps we got to the top before most...after Sheryl and I thought it was a great idea to try and race each other (cue coughing, spluttering and only running 6 ft and nearly collapsing because of the lack of oxygen at altitude! Brilliant!).

Day 3 was another easy(ish) day, and back to carrying my pack. We saw some lovely ruins. I think it was probably this point that I figured out I wasn't really fussed about the ruins...which is a pretty awful realisation when you are on the Inca Trail...looking at Inca ruins. I did, however, realise that I really really like walking - which was a massive suprise to me really. After looking at some ruins we decended through the cloud forest, which was stunning, and I saw my first ever real life in the wild hummingbird. Day 3 was also the great day where we reached the beautiful hot showers camp. It was awesome. I think it was a few pounds but the best few pounds I have ever spent. Absolutely brilliant.

So refreshed, washed and Inca Kola-ed up (as there is a bar at camp 3...sadly my antibiotics did let me get a beer) we slept...for what felt like 20 mins before we had to get up and wait and wait and wait for some entrance gate to open and then run to the Sun Gate. The sun came up, it was nice. It was our first glimpse of Machu Pichuu and if I am honest I was sad. Sad that my lovely long walk was over. But it was lovely and pretty, but I was pretty shattered, as was everyone else. So between our history lesson from our guide, and nodding off, I was proud that I have found a lovely new hobby...walking. Who'd have thought putting one foot in front of the other would be so fun!

Bolivia and beyond.

Ahhh, once again I have fallen behind on my postings, I am going to blame this, not on my massive amount of disorganisation, but rather on a lack of internet in Bolivia and Peru.

Moving on Bolivia I was really very sad to see that surly bunch go, leaving them behind on the shores of Copacabana, Lake Titicaca (the highest altitude lake in the world). But before heading over the boarder to my final South American country, I got to see what I decided was one of my top 10 sunsets, from the rooftop terrace of our hotel, looking out over the lake.

We were also terribly lucky to have a TV as this provided some 6 am entertainment, to watch the Royal Wedding! Beautiful - reinforcing you can take the girl out of England but not the England out of Girl (I followed that up by watching the Eurovision Song Contest in a Bar in Cuzco...but thats another tale altogether!)

Anyway, with reports that the border was closed we wondered (and I secretly hoped) that I may in fact be stuck in Bolivia for a good long time, but when we got there we were lucky and crossed the border with no trouble at all.

So into Puno, Peru. and after everyone had said it was a dump I was pleasantly suprised that it wasn´t that bad, and we had a lovely boat trip to the Islas Flotantes (floating islands). The islands are made of blocks of reeds, and 200 people live on 60 islands. It was very impressive. You can even stay overnight on them, and although we didn´t have time, we heard some people having a blast at island Karaoke.

That evening, after being served by a Johnny Depp Lookalike (brilliant!) and trying my first Inka Kola (think Irn Bru crossed with Coca Cola, but illuminous yellow) we went back to the hotel (thats  right...a posh hotel!) in preparation for our bus to Cusco the next morning, which....HAD A TOILET! Now I know this isn´t a big deal to anyone else...but the idea of peeing at the side of the road whilst local women stared at me like an alien had not filled me with joy and I was very chuffed that I would not have to repeat the experience. Good Old Peru!

The Amazon

The Amazon. I think the only way I can describe the whole trip is as "an experience". By that I don't mean in the way people use it to describe something they would like to explain as awful but politely use the term experience, I mean from strat to finish it was quite unlike anything else.

Having heard varying reports on the bus journeys taking up to 50 hours due to severe flooding, we decided to posh it up and fly to the lovely Amazonian town of Rurrenabaque. A number of travellers we had met had flown and said the plans was small...nothing could prepare me for just how small. As we walked out onto the Tarmac, we were met with what can only be described as a model aeroplane. Or a tin can. It was amazing. 19 seats, propellers on the wings and a roof which prevented me from standing up...meaning I near-crawled to my seat. From where I was sat I could see the flight deck and put of the front window of the plane. As we took off the plane rattled uncontrollably and by some fascinating feat of modern(ish) engineering it stayed in one piece. We flew past mountains which were higher than the flight path, and 35 minutes later we landed in a field.

So my first real look at the Amazon came after a short boat trip on a long boat, a hot and sticky 50 minute walk to the start of the zip lines, followed by 1,500 metres of cabling between trees, 50 metres in the air, suspended underneath by a harness! It was amazing! Absolutely awesome (and slightly nervewracking!)

My second Amazon experience came the following day when we set off on our 3 day trek in the jungle. After a three hour long boat journey up the river we got to our base camp-a small collection of huts in the jungle. It was noisy with insects, and despite all my Amazon preparation (yes, that's right...4 hours of programming for work and I felt I was an expert!) I was nervous as anything. It was twice as humid as town and there were more scary animals than I could possibly imagine (that's right...cockroaches and grasshoppers!).

After some delicious lunch, we did our first trek. For 3 hours we sweated our way through the forest, filling Heriberto the guide and his trusty machete. At this point Heri collected some Amazon medicine for my very swollen arm-as I was suffering with a mosquito bite allergy promising to "cure" me later. After some unsuccessfully animal spotting (a couple of spiders and lots of ants) we returned to camp for dinner...preparing for the night trek.

The whole idea of the night trek frightened me (and if about now you are realising what a wussbag I am...believe me it only gets worse) especially as we were looking for jaguars and tapirs, and although I smiled, I can admit right now that no part of me wanted to find a 200 kilo tapir in the woods. Luckily for me, we were unsuccessful, although I have discovered I am very talented in finding huge spiders, millipedes and other nameless bugs by torchlight - which is a talent I wish I didn't have. Using my trusty headtorch and holding Sheryl's hand eveytime I fell over my own feet fully reinforced that I am definately not as outdoorsy as I would like to think. Thankfully the painful night trek was over and we returned to our mosquito netted beds, where I lay quivering in fear that some mighty cockroach would come into my bed, or worse...I would have to get up and go to the toilet in the middle of the night, meaning navigating the pitch black camp to the loo block where there were undoubtedly all sorts of terrifying monsters (I was right-we found a bat in there the next day. The bat, incidentally appeared to be watching whilst I showered.) anyway, I survived till morning, and after pulling myself together realised I really liked being in the big wide wilderness.

The following day we trekked again, and once again were unsuccessful in finding anything larger than a jungle pig- which were great! They made some fabulous noises...as when they are startled they clatter their teeth together to communicate, which always resulted in an outbreak of giggles.

Then that afternoon, we got crafty and made forest items (I can't say anymore as some of your pressies will be ruined!) it was at this time that one of the guides made some weird jokes about being alone in the forest with 4 women and having a machete ( needless to say I didn't find that very funny- Bolivian humour is weird at the best of times.) - Stephen King eat your
heart out my next horror story is ready and waiting!

After a fairly sleepless night, thanks to being accosted by a terrifying grasshopper and plagued with an overacting imagination, we did one more trek. This time we saw more jungle pigs, but we also drank water from a plant called uña de gato (cats fingernails) and then found a vine and swung like Tarzan-as well as doing some pole move in the Amazon courtesy of said vine!

Another day in Rurrenabaque, and a tempting offer to stay and volunteer teaching English in an indigenous community in the basin - which I reluctantly declined, and we prepared for the tin can plane back to La Paz.

After a lot of turbulence, and a rather green looking Sheryl and Amanda crawled off the plane, (and me recovering from the fear that the plane in fact would not make it in one piece) we were back in the altitude sickness inducing city of La Paz, at a dizzying nearly 4 kms above sea level. So a few days hear then off to Lake Titicaca. And I only have another 3 maim stops until my South America time draws to an end...now there is a strange thought!

An advert for Alpaca

Bolivia is a fantastically characteristic place. What it lacks in fast service, smiles, customer service, roads, Internet, reliable transport and supermarkets, it makes up for in sheer charm and crazy contrasts.

So we have made it back to La Paz, after a trip to the Amazon (which I will post about separately) in more or less one piece...with a few added bites, a swollen arm (it would appear I am allergic to mosquito bites!). Today was the day I have been waiting for. 10 weeks of travelling and finally it has arrived - SHOPPING DAY! We hit the markets of La Paz hard...knowing full well this could be my only opportunity to go nuts and buy loads of pressies for myself and loved ones (as it's possibly the only place I can afford it!) so after traipsing around the witches market, dreaming for buying gorgeous bags, wool for my darling sister to keep her occupied and in business until the end of time, or tiny beautifully handcrafted guitars, and avoiding the llama foetuses of various shape and size (and no I am not kidding!) I settled on some smaller token items.

But just to complete that picture I am currently sat in my hostel looking like an advert for alpaca...well almost. I am only wearing a dress, a jumper and leg warners...decorated with the mandatory llama-I decided against the trousers, I thought that they may be overkill!

Santiago to the Desert

So we arrived in Santiago for the music festival Lollapalooza, which was amazing. Highlights included meeting David Arquette and his friend, now forever known as "famous Mike". We do not know who famous Mike is, but having shown the photo we had with him to a group of Americans, they were very in awe of the fact we had our picture taken with him! Good old famous Mike. Musical highlights were (for me) Empire of the Sun, Fatboy Slim, 30 Seconds to Mars and Kanye West. And despite a near riot getting our tickets in the first place (including a 3 hour wait, the military police of Chile and a riot van) we emerged unscathed and danced for two solid days.

Santiago is much like Buenos Aires. And Madrid. And infact most other cities...it was nice but nothing special, and after a few days rest, an adventure on an indoor climbing wall (thank you Lucille and Sheryl) and sadly no pole dancing...we got on a 28 hour bus journey, full of very interesting miners to San Pedro de Atacama in the Atacama desert, bordering Bolivia.

San Pedro is lovely. A tiny town, full of travellers and tourists, all hoping for a glimpse of sand dunes and other worldly volcanoes. They are in for a treat. Every morning I leave my hostel and can see a volcano (inactive I may add) and give Bolivia a wave...know I will be there tomorrow.

Today we are off to the Valle de la Luna. I would love to explain more what this is...but I don´t really know. Tomorrow we are off on a three day trek to Bolivia via hot springs, geysers, flamingo lakes and salt flats.

San Pedro has more stars than I have seen, maybe because it is so remote. It also has a great little football pitch where Sheryl and I played head-torch nighttime football with a bag of rubbish. This is an activity I highly recommend - and certainly not in the guidebooks.

Middle Earth...or Torres del Paine as it is more commonly known.

3 days in Torres del Paine, was definately not enough, sadly, and is on my list of things I would like to return to and do properly, at some stage in my life.

Torres resembles Middle Earth, of the famed Lord of the Rings trilogy - steep, dark granite cliff edges, lined with grass lands, forested areas and coupled with the famous Torres themselves on one end and a glaciar on the other.

We took a catamaran across the bluest (and probably coldest) lagoon I have ever seen, landing at the other end of Laguna Amarga. We then set off, at a hell of pace completing 11 km in 3.5 hours (including a stop for lunch on a log!). Feeling like a hobbit, dwarfed by the landscape, and in awe of the snow covered mountains on one side, we came around the headland and came face to face with Lago Grey, and its famous glaciar. The only way I can describe it, is that it looks like a tsunami, frozen in midair.

The following morning, after staying in the cosy Refugio Grey, and enjoying the lovely hot chocolates on offer, we set off at 8.30 am (and for those of you who know me know that this is in fact a weird phenomenon in itself...as usually anything before 9am is almost impossible!) back towards the catamaran and across the lake. We then caught a shuttle bus over to Torres Central - a rather posh hostel in the park, over looked by the Torres del Paine mountains.

The following day was in fact our last day in the park and although we had planned a short trek, returning to camp to get the 2.30pm bus back to Puerto Natales, I had already decided that as I was there I would complete the longer trek and get the late bus back to our hostel. The long trek was a massive 18 km in total, up to the mirador (lookout) bringing me in front of the Torres. Sheryl was brave (or stupid) enough to do this with me. And after an arduous few hours (I lost count somewhere between the boulders we had to climb, and the burnt trees - which I will come back to shortly), we eventually made it to the top...reward with a sign telling us it was the end of the trail. After kissing and cuddling the sign we sat and ate some sandwiches (with Peter the Wingless duck of course), and then practically skipped back to camp very proud of ourselves.

Interestingly, and very sadly, a massive 10 percent of Torres del Paine was burnt down in 2005 (I think) by a careless traveller and a camping stove. This destruction can still be seen as you walk through the park, with massive burnt trees lying on the ground, surrounded by young trees pushing their way through next to them.

The End of the World.

In 24 hours we travelled nearly 1500 miles by taxi, foot, coach (through no less than 28 hairpin bends just past the Chilean border) and aeroplane, moving from a place where there are 300 days of sunshine a year, to a place renowned for its excessive wind and cold. I was beginning to think we were all slighty mad for attempting this following 5 weeks of bikinis, shorts and at worst...a jumper and a waterproof. And all this before we have even headed into the National Park of Torres del Paine.

After arriving in Punta Arenas, which is the most southerly place I have ever been...and the end of the world (okay slight artistic license use there...Ushuaia is actually the end of the world but Punta Arenas is pretty close). And all the Northerners reading this blog will be pleased that I can report it is grim down South! Cold, windy and the front actually looks slightly like Morecambe...amazing clouds aplenty!

The houses are unlike anything I have ever seen and well worth a mention. A mix of wood, corregated iron and sheets of metal stuck together somehow and defying the force of the weather, and all painted different colours give the place an even more otherworldly feel.

After realising we were infact in the wrong place (add this to the list of places we try to find but never do....) we realised we should make the trip to Puerto Natales, from there we would make the trip to Torres del Paine. The bus journey was a treat...nothing for miles and miles, as far as the eye could see, except the odd Emu, llama, sheep and wind battered trees. The bus would stop occasionally, at a lodge in the middle of no where and sometimes someone would get on, but overall just miles and miles of nothingness.

So off on my trek tomorrow, and I am excited, nervous and wondering if maybe doing all this with just 12 kilos of clothing and no hiking boots was maybe a silly idea...I will let you know in 3 days!

Mount Aconcagua and the Andes

Argentina...a country which tells me off!

So having been a bit relaxed on updating my blog...I may now blast you with information. Apologies for that!

Argentina. A lovely country, very European, cheap, hospitable and lots of...erm...rules! I get told off almost daily in this country (in fact there have only been 3 days I haven't been told off for something or other!) It ranges from not having a tidy enough dorm room to the military police boarding our bus yesterday and telling us off for not carrying our passports (but that was all we got, a telling off I mean! It could have been much worse!)

Buenos Aires was great, very European and looked like Madrid. I know that that should have been mighty exciting, and although I liked it, I felt a city is a city really and 5 days there was more than enough. I was so happy to leave and get on another 16 hour coach (which doubled as a sauna) to Mendoza, in the foot of the Andes (at the end of my armies....ha ha ha)

Mendoza has been incredible. First I faced my fears and went horse riding. After tears and having an elderly gaucho (argentinian cowboy) lead me by the hand to stroke the terrifying monster (Sebastian the Horse) in front of me, i finally got on him. And we went for a stroll in the Andes. He was lovely and now I want to do it all over again!

Then we had a BBQ (or a plate of tomatoes - yep I ate them out of politeness) we then found a tarantula and chased that around for a while! Great stuff!

Yesterday I think could have been my favourite day of the trip so far. We took the bus to Puente del Incas (part of the Inca trail) and then walked up the hill towards base camp of Mount Aconcagua (the highest mountain in the Americas!) Whilst the other girls puffed, panted and wheezed due to the altitude, I felt smug as I was running and dancing around. I am going to attribute this to usually having less breath than everyone else (asthma) and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Note-this was not the reason this was my favourite day....just being smug about breathing! So after worrying that we were inadvertantly wandering into Chile without our passports (and having been told off once already!) we finally found the track to walk to base camp. We cam arounf the corner and behind already huge mountains there was Aconcagua, looming over the valley, somewhat how I would imagine Everest looks out over Nepal. Snow capped and foreboding, I set off running with Sheryl in pour excitement (and had to stop out of breath after 10 metres.)

All in all a stunning place. Breathtakingly beautiful and reinforcing how lucky I truely am to be here. I would not change this for the world.

Peter at Iguazu Falls

Ciao Brazil...Hola Argentina!

One country down, nearly one month in and one of the (possible) new seven wonders of the world completed....along with a big jesus on a hill, nearly 35 hours on coaches and 1500 miles. And still no explanation of the duck in the byline, OR photos! I am hoping the eternal promise of photos and the allure of Peter the Wingless Duck keeps everyone following and reading.

We entered Argentina at Puerto Iguazu, after being subjected to Furry Vengance (if I wasn´t entirely sure that Brendan Fraser should be made redundant for the rest of his days...I am now), and not being able to escape from this terrible film, whilst cramp set into my body from the waist down, I was desperate to arrive anywhere. A hole in the floor or a garden pond would have been the perfect stop at this point...Actually I make it sounds worse than it really was for dramatic effect - it was actually fine (the coach, not Brendan Fraser).  

However, arriving in Puerto Iguazu, we felt lucky...leaving cold Sao Paulo behind, and blasted by humid 33 heat. Off came the fleece and socks, and we went for an explore around the town, which was dusty and orange, comprising of about 4 streets of shops, restaurants and a megadisco (which yes we did go to and party until 4 am - it was exceptional, in a rubbish sort of way, but made infinitely better by the presence of a pole! Brilliant). 

The following day we went to the Iguazu Falls, which is trying to be voted one of the new 7 wonders of the world (the natural ones that is). I don´t think I quite have enough vocabulary to explain how stunningly beautiful it is. Bigger than Niagara and louder than a train, with green areas that rival the scenery of Avatar. Its incredible. Stunningly beautiful, peaceful (despite the hundreds of tourists) and quite unlike anything I have ever seen. I think it is my favourite things so far, mesmerising at every step.

After leaving there we endured another 18 hour coach (worse movies, but with food - hurrah!) to Buenos Aires. BA is nice, but very like Madrid, although we are staying here to rest and relax for a few days before heading out to the countryside again to do fun exciting things in Mendoza...cowgirl Jane here we come (if I get over horse fear that is!)

The Fiestas of Paraty

Returning to Paraty was like returning to a well loved holiday spot - welcomed at the Backpackers Hostel with a new group of people, whilst giving the hammocks longing looks - after an interesting 2 hour bus ride through a tropical storm on a leaky bus.

It was the anniversary of the town, or something like that, and with people from the hostel we braved the rain like good old gringos (complete with flip flops and rain mac - Thanks Kate...the pack a mac is a godsend!) and went to a concert in a car park next to the beach. "Dani" - he can only be described as sounding somewhat like Ricky Martin Love Ballads, on bad Karaoke - and accompanied by some very interesting backing films, provided a beautiful soundtrack for possibly the wettest evening out ever. We danced in puddles and got absolutely soaked, singing along (making up the words) whilst others ate meat on a stick.

The next few days were quiet, collecting ourselves for Sao Paulo - the largest city in the Southern Hemisphere. I was sad to be waving goodbye to Paraty, and its weird cobblestones, techno supermarket, hammocks and constant rain! Paraty...you will always be in my heart!

From partying in Paraty to Ilha Grande - a very big island

So after cycling and taboganning down waterfalls, we finally had a chilled out day off everything...although I would like to say this was more forced than out of choice. A huge tropical storm descended over Paraty and called off our day at the beach (admittedly I think Sheryl and Lucille were secretly pleased...as they already have interesting shades of sunburn from our first days´excursion to Ipanema). The girls returned to the hostel and I, and my stubborn British-ness persevered and in my endless attempts to get a tan...by refusing to leave the beach despite getting rained on repeatedly and running for cover in the trees, shielding my book and my bikini-clad body beneath my sarong. Eventually, after doing this 4 times I reluctantly realised that the odds were not in my favour and went back to join the girls.

The next day, though, I had the pleasure of a lovely day kayaking with Sheryl, Lucille and 4 other people, along with Mattieu (our guide) for a fantastic 8 hours! It was very tiring (considering I haven´t kayaked for about 12 years and then it was only on an adventure holiday with school!) but brilliant. Something I think I will definately do again and again (although not for a while as I am still struggling to lift my arms above my head!) We went to three different little islands and through a mangrove swamp - looking at the little crabs running up trees. It was excellent - pure magic! And resulted in us all adding to the zebra tanning look - brilliant!

We were all a little sad to leave Paraty, and headed to Ilha Grande. There is not much to do here, except walk and trek through forests to beaches...but well worth it! The first day we trekked 10 - 12 kms...although I am not sure exactly how much. It took about three hours in the blistering heat, climbing steep mountains in flip flops (moral of the story - when a Brazilian says its fine to do something in flip flops....don´t trust them!) we arrived at a beach which rivaled Alex Garland´s infamous Thailand version. White sand which was so fine it squeaked under foot, clear blue crashing waves and palm trees brushing the rocks. It was stunning, and well worth the trek.

And tomorrow we leave here, and head (unsuprisingly) back to Paraty, before travelling north to Sao Paulo. We feel we have unfinished waterfalls trips in Paraty, and are at a lose end for a few days...and again I leave you with the promise of uploading pictures, when I am back in Paraty anyway! :)

The Road from Rio

First of all, after a number of emails and comments on Facebook about my lack of blog activity...here it is! My first post! And if this is not how it is supposed to be then my apologies as I have never done this before and a massive thank you to anyone who is going to have the patience to read this :)

So far, I am loving Brazil. We flew into Rio on Thursday night, and hot, sweaty and humid arrived at our hostel...to find we were staying in something which resembled a prison (12 beds, triple bunks and tiny) but I very quickly grew to love it (although I must say the triple room I am in now is heaven!)

In Rio, we covered every possible touristy thing in the shortest time I think! The first day we went to find the Girl from Ipanema, failed but definately got a lot of sun lounging on the beach. I had an altercation with a huge wave and lost my sunglasses, but really a fabulous day - washing away all the February cold. After a while we went to the Botanic Gardens where we saw marmosets - which if course made my day (if not week!) The second day was Christ the Reedemer, which saw amazing views of the city; the favelas, the rainforest, everything. Then we caught a tram up to a little village on a hill called Santa Teresa. The tram was crazy - people hanging over the sides as we went over a one track bridge called the Arcos de Lapa. It was amazing and very quite and chilled out. Then on our last day we climbed the first half of Sugar Loaf Mountain, and caught the cable car to the second bit. It was hard work - but again paid off with glimpses of marmosets and snakes. It was a hard 30 minute climb, but so worth the effort.

Leaving Rio, I was so pleased to get out of the city. Its hot and humid and after powering through every possible high altitude sight, it was great to climb on a bus to go to Paraty, 4 hours round the coast from Rio. Winding through coastal roads, and being rewarded with incredible views of islands dotted off the coast of Rio de Janeiro state.

Paraty is a small seaside town, very hippy and beautiful with pretty buildings and giant cobble stones. The hostel has hammocks which help when gazing at the stars (or massive tropical thunderstorms - like last nights).

Paraty is like a dream place for me. Its next to the seaside, but a difficult (yet fairly short) cycle ride away are waterfalls and mountains. Yesterday we cycled the 5 or so miles, all uphill in the blistering heat, to Tabogan - a waterfall where you climb to the top, ask a local to kindly give you a shove, and slide all the way down to the bottom and land into a pool at the bottom. The locals surf down it barefoot stood up...I was a massive chicken and just slid on my bum...but a natural waterslide was the perfect solution to sweating our way up the hill to get to it.

I am going to attempt to upload some photos later on today...but it all depends on if there is a storm. In which case you will have to picture me lying in a hammock, drinking beer and watching the rain.