(Uruguay – Peru – Brazil – Argentina – Edinburgh, Scotland)
Today we’re having a second restful day in Montevideo.
It’s raining a soft and gentle rain.
The day has filled up nicely with those routine events that all travllers find in new and interesting countries (see below…)
Tomorrow we travel to Colonia de Sacramento, then back to Buenos Aires for one day before I risk my life on Iberian Airlines to Europe.
So it’s time to pause and reflect before another leisurely meal of meat with meat with potatoes with meat, some veg, meat, and possibly: another flan. Life is not so tough here (if you have money).
In Peru:
* There are worse ways to spend a Monday afternoon than drinking strong coffee, grazing on a flan and listening to an Inca band rehearse on a balcony in crisp cold air on the far side of the Plaza Des Armas in Arequipa. The panpipes mingle with the sounds of pigeons and kids laughing on the way to school…
* Even better is lounging on the Inca terraces, high above the market town of Pisac and the cypress-scattered Secret valley, as a lone pan-piper can be heard from more than a kilometre away in the softly thin morning breeze.
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If you are an Australian, you need a Brazilian visa.
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* The freshly drawn blood of water birds tethered on the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, mixed with a glass of red wine, is a wonderful way to relieve the symptoms of menopause. Do try this at home.
* It’s quite a shock to turn on the TV in Peru and to have a choice of two channels: “Great Stories from the Catholic Church”, or Bud Tingwell and Margaret Rutherford dubbed into a Spanish “Miss Marple”.
* The small sign on the breakfast table in a Cusco Hotel under the heading of “Ecological Efforts”: “YOUR CONSERVATIVE CONSCIENCE IS GREATLY APPRECIATED”.
I’m sure there are some employers who would wish this was a mandatory policy.
* In Lima, the local football heroes are the “Wankas” and the local grilled chicken franchise is “Norkys” (specialising in breasts, perhaps?). At 3am on the main road to/from Lima Airport, local kids are playing soccer. The taxis are careful to drive slowly between the goal-post rocks. Apparently you don’t want to pick a fight with these kids at any hour.
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If you’re from a country with a very close political relationship with “Our Great and Powerful Ally”, then you need a bloody visa for Brazil.
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On entry to Brazil, the change from the dourness of Santiago, Chile to Rio, Brazil was fairly stark (commencing with the very laid back airport Immigration officer who barely glanced at my shiny, proud new Brazilian visa).
From severe Catholicism and a sense of what is “correct” in Santiago, the hotel in Rio greets you with a multicoloured hotel minibar featuring a large milk chocolate “Christ the Redeemer”, next to a lurid three-pack of condoms.
The two bald men in our group of 5 were told by our tour leader on the trip out of Rio that we would have few problems travelling: “…as you already look Brazilian”. (!)
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The Brazilian view of South America:
Brazil is one united(ish) Portuguese speaking country, while the rest of the Spanish speaking countries squabble amongst themselves. (Historically, Brazil has been very good at manipulating others for its own benefit. It did lose one battle when “The Oriental Republic of “Uruguay gained its independence in the 19th century, after previously suffering the Spanish and the English.
The Uruguayans have now set themselves up as the South American “Brussels” where a new common market for the continent can be developed. The Uruguayans see it this way: as the smallest South American country they HAVE to be diplomatic to the rest.
At least they didn’t have to deal with the French!
… and Uruguay is “Oriental” because it’s in the East…
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There is nothing in the world quite like Brazilian TV, except perhaps Italian TV, but even they don’t interrupt glitzy game shows and soapies for a nightly 50 minute diatribe from a political party – a different party every night – legislated by the state.
We had great fun deconstructing the clichés. Political broadcasts (like our 30 minute “election talks” on the ABC) are the same in every country, it would seem. They have all seen the “Yes Prime Minister” episode on how to do a political broadcast: great fun to watch if you don’t understand the words and don’t have to elect the buggers!
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In Brazil, the best value meals are in restaurants where you pay by the kilo after you have helped yourself to the smorgasbord. Great for non-carnivores in particular.
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Even vegetarian Australians need a Brazilian visa. Unfortunately those who weigh less do not pay less or wait for a shorter time.
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South of Antonina, a picturesque, decrepit port in southern Brazil: a large rock is edged with about 20 fishers of all ages, surrounded by empty and emptying beer bottles. Loud “pagoda” music beats out from loudspeakers in the back of an ageing kombi van parked in the garage next to the rough brick café. Catch a fish, and the cigar-smoking cook in the café will gut and grill it for you ain about 10 minutes, with a mountain of chips.
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Argentina to Uruguay:
Travelling from stylish and “full-on” central Buenos Aires to Montevideo is a bit like travelling from Paris to Manchester or Liverpool. It’s quieter, businesslike, with unique and slightly overdone/ugly nineteenth or early twentieth century architecture remaining from the “glory days” and a port which looks a bit like the Cunard buildings. The cast-iron market behind the port was imported from Liverpool’s Union Foundry Workshops. It features meat restaurants where haunches, sweetmeats and sausages of a full range of farmed animals sizzle over large angled charcoal grills, awaiting your carnivorous delectation.
Just the smoke is delicious.
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Don’t go looking for a post office or letterbox in Montevideo. You need to find one of the pharmacies which sells stamps; the letterboxes are hidden conveniently inside the same pharmacy.
In Argentina it’s even more confusing as a private company has set up its own postal system in competition with the state. Do avoid blue letter boxes if your letter has a post office stamp on it.
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How to change a Travellers’ Cheque in Montevideo:
Take travellers’ cheque and passport to the “Cambio”.
Explain transaction. They take your documents into Pokey Little Back Office.
Many minutes later, get told: “Not Possible”, because the travellers’ cheque (signed 5 weeks earlier) is not EXACTLY the same as the signature in the passport (signed 6 years ago). This may be something to do with the number of signatures I do in my job EVERY day, so the signature has reduced in size over the last 3 years.
Explain that the exact same office changed an exact same kind of travellers’ cheque yesterday using the exact same passport. “Wait a minute Senor”, as the adolescent lackey disappears again into the Pokey Little Office, and the five other adolescent lackeys do an impression of circling like bored sharks.
Many minutes later: “Not Possible Senor.”
(Thinks: how am I going to get around this?). “Getting around this” is a skill acquired after many years of playing “games” with the NSW Department of Education in its various guises. Time to utilise those skills.
Return to hotel. Get NSW Drivers’ License (repellent photo and even tinier signature than on the passport). Return to adolescent shark tank.
Show and Tell. Documents taken into Pokey Little Office.
Many minutes later: asked to sign a Request Form. This is also taken to the Pokey Little office.
Many minutes later: travellers’ cheque reappears. “Please Sign” (through shark-like teeth). Cheque and teeth return to Pokey Little Office.
Many minutes later: currency is gradually handed over with passport, license, visa, and carbon copies of four signed documents.
This took nearly as long as it had – earlier in the same afternoon – to work out how to buy a stamp.
No wonder that NSW teachers are such great travellers. Our charitable and caring employer has taught us all the right determination and bureaucratic skills.
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But, as an Australian, you still need a visa to get into Brazil.
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Postscript: Andrew in Edinburgh: Baggage in London (or perhaps Madrid) 4/6/05
Well, it had to happen eventually…
It’s 1am, and I’m sharing a room with Corrie-The-Leather-Fetish-Cat at Mz Lizzie’s place, and my bag is??????
The compensatory T shirt and “party pack” (but no pants?) c/o British Airways is very nice, but I wouldn’t recommend EVER flying Iberia.
Thanks Frank and school for the care package: Vegemite is on tomorrow’s menu.
The clothes from today are nearly washed. If they dry, it’ll be a fun day in Edinburgh tomorrow. If not I’ll be out in Mz Lizzie’s track pants and shopping in the Marks and Sparks underwear section.
Not sure how “professional” I’ll be looking and smelling in the Blackpool schools if my pack has not appeared in the next few days.
After 12 hours of Iberia (no reading light, no working sound system, the video screen held to the wall by masking tape on three corners; even the taped “panic music” for take off and landings was malfunctioning – so how good was the maintenance on the bits of the plane you cannot see?)… we transferred in Madrid to another Iberia flight (newer aircraft but no food service for 3 hours unless you are prepared to pay 3 Euros for a sandwich and Nescafe). This experience was completed with the announcement: “We are now approaching London Heathrow. It is 20 degrees and raining”.
(But of course).
