It’s raining torrentially; the thunder is growing more threatening, and in two hours we leave on a small launch for the two(ish) hours’ transport to Parnangua in southern Brazil. Another two hours in a van, a dinner in Curitiba, and then we will “experience” (if that is the correct word) an “overnight sleeper bus” to Iguacu.
Because of the storms and the very high tides, the “morning at leisure” on a wonderful surf beach, or at a Portuguese fort has become something else. I’ve written and sent every postcard there was to right and send, after working out that the post office is open, if you consult the Hours notice (indecipherable in the rain) then ask at the resort clothing store, then wait to see if the clerk has returned from the mail pickup at the boat in leisurely “Brazilian time”… So the postcards fro Rio have all gone (including one from Ipanema Beach for a certain Newcastle school principal – and some of you will know why that was important). Let’s see if any of them arrive.
Honey Island is (potentially) quite idyllic: with no motor vehicles, just carts pushed by surfer dudes a the transport, and quiet sand walkways between quiet pousadas and cafes. You can order what you like at the cafes, as long at it’s seafood, beans and potato. The local dark, sweet beer washes this down well, as “Araguana”, a light soda made from berries from the Amazon and labelled as: “champagne”…
So, a brief rewind:
In Peru, don’t think you can sit on the broad stone steps of Cuzco Cathedral (after admiring the vast painting of “The Last Supper” which features a guinea pig as the main course…) to reflect and enjoy the atmosphere of the square while sipping your gold-coloured Inca Cola. Even after avoiding variously ethncally dressed family groups cuddling small children and llamas demanding dollars for photos, you cannot avoid the gangs of shoe shine boys.
I was immediately surrounded by five of them demanding to polish my boots. Some debate ensued among the group about who was “excllente” and who was “loco” in the group before “Excellente” buffed my shoes (spit AND polish). He then grossly overcharged me to share the money with his mates: fair enough.
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All the stuff you read about Cuzco and Maccu Piccu and Rio don’t begin to do them justice, so I won’t try to here. What follows are a few other bits and pieces rom the journey so far:
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Santiago:
In the “nice” areas where tour guides take you (Lapis Lazuli and Pisco Sour, anyone?) there are also the itinerant windscreen washers and flower sellers at traffic lights. At an intersection leading to the “Rodeo Drive” end of Santiago, a middle aged women knelt in front of vehicles stopped at the lights. One son then stood on her back. Another son climbed upon his shoulders and juggled 3 balls. They then scattered through the traffic, seeking money from drivers a the lights changed.
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The “Wisdom of Tour Guides”:
“Pinochet did some good things but he was not worth the cost”. (This, on a day when one of the generals from that era was trying to plea bargain by offering to give evidence about what happened to 4000 of the “disappeared”. Crowds around the news stands were ignoring the “glossies” (with cate Blanchette and Nicole Kidman on their covers) to closely read the newspaper front pages.
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Same tour guide: “In Chile we have absolute trust in the Carbinieri”. This being said as we were security checked on the way into the Presidential Palace which is now rebuilt after the Generals bombed it when Pinochet “suicided” during the coup.
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In Chile it’s harder to get into state universities than the inferior private ones. State school education is superior to the privates’. Graffiti on many schools and university walls: “Make State Education Free”.
In Santiago they’re not strong on removing unused infrastructure. In the downtown, if you’re on a cobbled street with long-abandoned tram lines then you are probably travelling east-west. If there are unused trolley bus wires dangling at crazy angles then you are probably travelling north-south.
In the markets in the pedestrian mall, stalls extolling Pinochet and Allende stand side-by-side selling various crafts and political trinkets.
Pinochet’s recent admission that he had syphoned moneys into Swiss bank accounts seems to have upset the middle classes more than the other “collateral damage” of his regime…
To enter Peru, you have to go through a kind of border-police-meets-The-Price-is-Right exercise by pressing a large button. If the light goes green, then “Come On Down” (and into Peru).
If the light goes red, do go and show all of your worldly possessions to the nice man in the khaki uniform.
My light went red.