Colonia del Sacramento: Uruguay

There’s a limit to the amount of Buenos Aires any man can take. Our satiation point showed up on the radar after one-and-a-half days… But don’t despair, there’s a fantastic bail-out option available: just imagine a place far enough away to be almost in a different century, but close enough for the tops of the Argentinian sky-scrapers to be just visible, allowing for the curvature of the earth. Another country, another world, another pace of life, another steak!
You can always rely on the good ol’ Buquebus high-speed catamarans to carry you across the broad Rio de la Plata. Due to the phenomenal speed of these vessels, we were able to travel from Argentina to Uruguay in just over an hour. But not just any place in Uruguay! We have really fallen on our feet here, what with the tiny, UNESCO renowned ex-smuggling village having retained the historical scenery and charisma that it’s had since 1682 when it was founded by the Portuguese.
By morning, it’s still fairly sleepy apart from the stray dogs patrolling their marked territories along the narrow cobbled streets and expressing their dominance to other dogs with a few loud barks and the occasional blood-curdling growl. The really keen people are disassembling piles of chairs and setting up their cafés for daily trading whereas the more laid back remain in their doorways drinking ‘yerba mate’, a kind of strong tea where the cup is overflowing with ground up, usually dried and decayed, off-green, tea leaves. This must be drunk through a type of metal straw that sometimes has a coiled end resembling a spring, which acts as a filter so it’s just tea that they drink.
By afternoon, the town earns it’s status of being awake where we see more liveliness in both people and animals alike. The dogs we mentioned have stepped up from chasing their canine neighbours to running along side trespassing cars, barking their heads off as they do so. They don’t seem to have a soft spot for the classic nor the vintage models either and they threaten each automobile relentlessly. The cafés and restaurants start to fill up with locals and tourists, and we notice the interested climbing the lighthouse and scaling the old fortress’ walls.

By evening, nobody starts to eat until the eight o’ clock mark although many don’t start dining until as late as midnight. The restaurants are the only real signs of life at night and as we stray away, we find ourselves in the eerie, yet homely tranquillity of the crazy paved streets that take light from the old, Dickensian-style street lamps. As one walks down these lonely streets, where the only noises emerge from hidden crickets and the gentle breeze from the nearby river, it becomes a real backwards time travel experience as we combine all this with the single storey, stone houses of various colours and the blossoming trees (many of which are bougainvillea) , and even the occasional prickly cactus. In places the pavements are piled high with firewood, and the many quaint, old cars seem to be not just for show, but actually for chugging around in!



As it was time for our evening meal, we decided to get out of the touristy restaurant quarter and stray off down a dimly lit side street where there were only Uruguayan people eating. At ‘El Asador’ the restaurant owner was very welcoming and we chatted, in our improving (but still very broken) Spanish about ‘Argentina’s got Talent’, which was on the television at the time; English football; and finally about how bloody brilliant the meal was! In Argentina and Uruguay, the ‘ll’ sounds as a ‘ssshh’ and so the name of the amazing charcoal or wood barbeque flaming in each restaurant is pronounced “parrrreesshah”. It’s kind-of obligatory to order from it! We ordered the ‘Parrilla para dos personas’, which turned out to be a huge mountain of steaks of various cuts. We both agree that rare steak is the best way to go, but we did forgive him for dishing out medium-rare as it was still award-winning. The various cuts of meat, including various ribs and some flank, arrived with its own charcoal burner to keep it warm as we chomped away. The French fries had been deep-fried in something heavenly-tasting. The cerveza was massive, but it all went down, gradually.

The intense heat of the day was dissipated around dusk by some dramatic thunder and lightening, and a welcome downpour accompanied by deep grey, moody skies. The lush evening felt like a release after the closeness earlier; by morning the rain was in abeyance, yet the clouds remained and a powerful southwesterly wind blasted off the river. At El Torreón, we sat cooling off and staring out across the water, admiring the ancient rafters made from driftwood and the walls of rough-hewn stone.

Buenos Aires: Recoleta and La Boca

There are two ‘must sees’ in this city, and the day was profitably spent seeing them! Moving around the city on the bus network and on foot gave us a valuable insight and orientation of the city. It’s vast, and the tree-lined avenues, stylish shops and bars give it a wonderful, almost exhilarating feeling. We headed for the world-famous Recoleta Cemetery, and just before entering made a cooling visit to the monastery and church of Nuestra Senhora de Pilar, the oldest in the city. The summer heat today is relentless, and the shade of the church precincts gave a small amount of welcome release from the torments of the full sun; the city is known as Buenos Aires for good reason too: every so often, a gentle breeze wafts over from the river (Good Air)! The cemetery was smaller and more concentrated than expected, and the tombs (actually, grand mausoleums would be a better term) more built up than expected. We explored in detail, and then went to find the family tomb of the Duarte clan, especially to see the final resting place of their most famous member, Eva. Of course, her married name was Peron, and every Porteño knows of her by her nickname, Evita. Let’s not get Into the debates on Latin American politics just yet, but I’m sure that this trip will not be complete without a full run down of the battle between left and right, socialism and greed. But not today!



It was then time to visit the famous area of the docks where the Italian immigrants set up there quarter: the brightly painted streets of La Boca. At first we were more than dismayed, we were frankly gutted that it has been turned into an almost Disneyfied version of the heyday! Especially where old, beautiful window shutters were lined with postcards and rickety balconies had various other merchandise hanging from them. But slowly and surely, the magic of this zona gradually overtook us by stealth. It is the quintessence of the real Buenos Aires, and for good reason. We actually managed to find some of these Jenga stacked shacks untouched and in their original glory, and the real finishing touches were the beautiful lantern-style street lights and the sounds of accordions and voices accompanying traditional tango dancing. As we explored the futuristic outer contour of La Boca, we found some real talent in masterpieces of all kinds of wall art; from graffiti on the walls of the local’s basketball court to the carefully painted images of tango dancers and joyful scenes. A coffee stop in an authentic, non-tourist café was well deserved!

Off to Buenos Aires!

We boarded the Espresso Singer bus to Buenos Aires for a 20 hour, overnight journey in Semi-Cama. The straight roads, forests and lakes of the Misiones province provided an awe-inspiring view as we sped southwards, skirting Paraguay. Singing “One way ticket” helped to pass the time before sleep kicked in! And how appropriate!
Flatter ranch-like countryside, abundant with cattle along the border with Uruguay provided the scenery as we woke at first light. Arrival at Retiro bus station was painless, and we navigated the way to the local bus to San Telmo with surprising ease and good fortune! The Sunday market lining all the streets was a fantastic, but tiring introduction to this vast city, and Liquado milkshakes of apple, along with a banana, honey and cinnamon version provided welcome respite.
We reached the Plaza de Mayo and remembered the “Disappeared” of an earlier regime, and Simon’s rosary that he bought from the San Telmo market was blessed after mass in the Metropolitan Cathedral, and we then reached the famous obelisk: is this the widest street in the world? Past hundreds of Parrilla restaurants, each looking better than the previous and along Calle Defensa we meet three corps of Candombe drummers. These rhythms are mind-blowing and hypnotic. We stood dancing Samba-style with one group for about twenty minutes, and then followed the parade of another along the narrow cobbled streets of San Telmo for quite some distance. And, of course, we just happened to stumble across some open air tango!

This city, at first glance so European and sophisticated, has suddenly come alive, pulsating with the exotic tropical rhythms of a whole, distant world. Finally it was time for a steak, some chips, black pudding and sausage, all washed down with an Argentinian Chardonnay. This Bife de Lomo was frankly the thickest and fattest, most succulent steak we’ve ever tasted!

Puerto Iguazu

Crossing between two countries has never been so easy, well, except from our journey from Brazil into Paraguay and back. The half-hourly bus to Puerto Iguazu actually took us to the Brazilian exit point to get our passport stamped, but to our surprise it wasn’t there when we were in the no-man’s land in between the two countries, so we waited another half an hour for the next bus to arrive. However, our tickets showed that we had paid to go straight through to Puerto Iguazu which meant that all we had to do was hop on. At Argentinian immigration the bus waited patiently for us to get stamped in before rolling on.
Suddenly we feel at home: we are quickly befriended by an Argentinian guy called David, who has just completed an important interview with a German singer called Ute Lemper. He talks for hours, especially about his family, and the whole narrative has the makings of a best-selling Latin American novel. He has also taken the trouble to learn Guarani.
Yesterday at the Iguaçu falls in Brazil, it had left us with so many wonderful memories and thrilling moments that we really wished to experience them again. We did exactly this but from the other side of the River Iguaçu this time, in Argentina. How peculiar it was to be looking back over the river to a different country, let alone where we had been standing, open-mouthed at the waters the day before. On the Argentinian side, there is one major difference and that is that our entry tickets came with a free train journey to the important locations around the park. The major stop was the ‘Garganta del Diablo’ where flat, calm river water suddenly appeared to be sucked into a powerful vortex, which was fogged out by the abundant white mist as a result of the mighty thundering mass of water.

Stunning views from the ‘Passeo Inferior’ completed the overwhelming experience along with the large fluttering butterflies and the calm birdlife in the surrounding dense forest, dappled in sunlight. We were sure to keep an eye open for any roaming jaguars that may have been toying with the idea of pouncing on us. The Ministerio del Salud TV crew decided to interview Jon about his opinion on the work that they do around the park against Dengue Fever, amongst other serious threats. Do you remember when Jon was interviewed in the Lost City of Petra by a television crew from São Paulo? He’s starting to feel a bit of a star.

Cataratas do Iguacu

That's right! Iguacu, not Iguazu, because we are on the Brazilian side! Pictures really do speak a thousand words and sometimes words just aren't enough. Have a gander!


Our first view of the Iguacu Falls, a natural world wonder.



A humble quati minding his own business.



Somewhere over the rainbow...



Gazing towards the Garganta do Diabo (Devil's Throat).


Up close and personal.



Finishing off with a great panorama.

A gente vai para Paraguay!

This translates as 'we are going to Paraguay!' and if you can make a rhyme as classy as that, then why not?! Our flight from Recife to Foz de Iguaçu came with a connection in São Paulo, which made way for a long sleepless night. Being creative with time, we occupied ourselves with a couple of salgados and coconut cakes, and we succeeded in fighting the sandman’s temptation of sleep! With a couple of hours dozing on and off during flight time we managed to get through from being awake from seven-thirty in the morning the day before until a short siesta kicked in at about half past six in the afternoon. We’ll sleep well tonight, that’s for sure! But let’s not forget what happened between the time of our arrival in Foz de Iguaçu and our early evening snooze.
We embarked on a short bus journey to the town centre in search of the cheapest possible hostel. A friendly lady who conjured up a marvellous ‘morango’ milkshake (strawberry) gave us directions to a modest hostel away from the main street, which turned out to be miles better value and had hardly any foreigners. After negotiating our check-in and check-out times we decided that the day was not young enough to venture out to what most people see when they come to this town, so we decided to pop to Paraguay for the afternoon.
From where we are today, the Ciudad del Este is only about thirty minutes away on the bus and it seems to be a very popular destination for the Brazilian people, if only to buy cheap electrical goods. However, we hear that it’s wise to test the product before leaving the shop to make sure that it actually works. The journey there would have probably lasted only fifteen minutes if it wasn’t for the heaving traffic. The bus ride was enjoyable all the same and got really interesting as we saw more and more Paraguayan registration plates and mixed ethnicities during our crossing of the Parana River over the large bridge. After being informed that the bridge is dangerous to cross on foot we remained bus-borne until we reached the crowded market on the other side. We were in Paraguay! Many rainbow-coloured parasols were sheltering grateful Guarani market traders from the intense sun and by comparison with Brazil, the motor madness was much more chaotic. In fact many taxi employees have wised up to this and now the motorbike taxi industry is flourishing just as much as the conventional four-wheel taxi transportation. It was interesting that Portuguese was still being widely spoken but as we wandered much deeper into the market, sounds of Spanish and Guarani became dominant. We squeezed through a mish-mash of people and narrow market stands, most of which were selling cheap sandals, counterfeit watches, undergarments and sports clothes to reach the other side where we made the spontaneous decision of taking a taxi to the Salto del Monday!
Our taxi driver was very amusing and kept us on our toes as we have not yet started going ahead with our good intentions to learn Spanish. He was speaking Spanish to us and we spoke Portuguese back. The best thing was though, that we could understand each other, but when Jon asked him to speak some Guarani in order to get a feel for things, it all went far over our heads. Still, it was great fun trying! The old local buses here are fantastic: painted in a jaunty way to lift the mood of both travellers and passers-by. As we drove out of the city, the whole atmosphere changed abruptly: tiny bungalows, dirty old workshops, non-tarmacked roads, some cobbled, some just unpaved. This was the real Paraguay!
No sooner as we arrived to the Salto del Monday it started to chuck it down with cats and dogs, leaving us completely drenched within the first minute of being outside. The Salto de Monday is a wonderful waterfall located nine kilometres from the Ciudad del Este and the sound of the light brown water crashing onto more water and rocks from these great heights was unbelievably relaxing and filled our brains with endorphins there and then. It fills us with excitement when we hear that what tomorrow has in store for us is supposed to be even more breathtaking, but if you haven’t guessed already, you’ll just have to wait and see!
We lunched very lightly with a small mixed buffet that spoiled us for choice. From this first impression, it seems as though the Paraguayans eat very well! We had a mixture of black beans, curried gnocchi, savoury cakes made entirely of corn, rice (both plain and curried) and a special red beef stew that was almost goulash-like. It was an achievement in itself being able to concentrate on the scrumptiousness of the magnificent feast in front of us as the mixture of people around us was even more fascinating! Who would have thought that we would have been dining where three different languages were being spoken, well, four if you’re including our English!
It was fairly late by the time we had finished our further browsing time in the market and had returned to base in Foz de Iguaçu, so our appetites had to be satisfied yet again. Well, since we had just been to another country, we felt that a celebratory meal was called for. What better than the ‘rodizio de pizza’ just round the corner from our hostel? This entails being seated at the restaurant to chow down on some tasty pizzas, which are brought around non-stop by the waiters and waitresses, and come in all kinds of flavours, from fairly ordinary to outrageously whacky! I hasten to add that I would be awful at that job as there would be no pizza left between taking it out of the oven and passing it the paying customer. Here is a list of the to-die-for toppings that we chomped in order: chicken heart, garlic, ham and spinach, fish stroganoff, chicken and cheese, pepperoni, (very salty) beef and tomato as well as ham and chilli. Oh! And for afters, more pizza followed but the topping were a little different: white chocolate and strawberry, coconut and condensed milk (maybe there was white chocolate in this one too), milk chocolate and coconut, milk chocolate solo and one that resembled a toffee crisp chocolate bar with chocolate pebble dashed with small biscuit balls. It was a great day all round apart from the painful waddle home after the all-you-can-eat pizza frenzy! We might just forget eating now for a few days.

Recife and Olinda

Just how do you pronounce the mighty city of Recife? We’ve heard so many versions, mainly from the mouths of non-Portuguese speakers. So Charlie Flesch, our new Brazilian biologist friend was able to oblige with the correct pronunciation, complete with authentic accent: Hair-sea-fee. Got that? Ok, let’s move on. We’re in the state of Pernambuco, a narrow wedge of land which is renowned throughout the vast country of Brazil for its amazing carnival and its infectious Forró music. And there’s one other thing which makes this place so special: it was the home of Dom Helder Câmara, one of the most practically influential liberation theologians of the Latin American continent.
Olinda is so called as a result the Portuguese navigator who discovered the fantastic viewpoint overlooking the wonderful scenery of old Recife exclaimed “Oh! Linda!”. This literally translates to ‘Oh! Beautiful’, which were probably sighed out with all his alveolar capacity as he finished his grand hike up to the peak of the mini-mountain on which the small city sits today. It truly deserves its UNESCO Heritage Site status as it is a huge cauldron of old Portuguese-style churches, cobbled streets and brightly coloured buildings. It later became evident that people living there can paint their houses any colour they like and it’s almost like each of the fluorescent dwellings were trying to outshine their neighbours. There’s Frêvo here, there’s Umbanda and Candomblé and Capoeira: just like Salvador, and the brightly painted buildings look the same too. But here it’s much less frenetic, more peaceful, even more beautiful. And the carnival mannequins are huge! We popped briefly into the Museu do Arte Sacra to take a quick look at some relics from the colonial period just to get into the mood.
We stopped by a luring art gallery, where the artists demonstrated such versatility in their work styles. The two artists practiced oil paints, acrylics, clay modelling, watercolours and probably many other styles all hidden behind layers and layers of exhibits. The man, Senhor Calazans was both flattered and eager to deny any plagiarism when Simon likened his painting of Amazon warriors (the mythical women rather than from the mighty river) to Picasso’s ‘Demoiselles d’Avignon’; he was also proud of his painting of the Apocalypse, with an angel top left, Satan bottom right, and the globe being judged in the centre; we were also startled by his fisherman carrying red fish with a yoke, which was coincidentally reminiscent of Jon’s pastel version of a boy running down the lane with fish in Teknaf, Bangladesh. It is definitely inspirational art, and perhaps we will start getting involved in craft when we get home! When the woman in the shop had finished explaining the works of her ‘aquarela’ (watercolour), Jon started to sing a famous Brazilian song called, believe it or not, ‘aquarela’: Numa folha qualquer eu desenho um sol amarelo… She was over the moon and joined in.
Around Olinda we encountered many statues of St Francis with numerous birds, and as throughout this region of Brazil, countless images, bas-reliefs and statues of São Jorge Guerrero: St George in full warrior mode, slaying the dragon. The devotion to him here is something to do with the syncretic cults, and Simon seems to remember that he is the ‘cover’ for a deity in Candomblé, but can’t quite remember his name… In the Praça da Sé there’s a bar called Preto Velho, named after the old slave character in Umbanda, and in numerous craft workshops we encountered the Carnival figure of a Caboclo with a spear, again something more than just a mere legend.
Our friends who came along, including Donald, Dave and Cecilia, and equally ourselves were all impressed with the place and could have easily spent much more time here, but we had to check out parts of Recife too, so we headed for a Rodizio de Churrasco in Boa Viagem, where we could eat to our hearts content if we wanted. None of us did, however, so three beers went down and a Caipirinha whilst we watched the various meats being dished out. Jon and Cecilia took charge of the situation, both displaying consummate tact, diplomacy and hood humour! We only needed a small snack but it was very much all or nothing; so we only had the option to pay thirty-five Brazilian reais for all we could eat or to leave. We left and proceeded to the Casa Cultura: artisans’ shops in the cells of a converted three-storey, three-winged prison to enjoy some ‘salgados’ (small, savoury pastries/breads with various fillings) and pitanga milkshakes. Pitanga is a fruit found in Brazil, which doesn’t translate into English because we don’t have it at home but it tastes like an acidic raspberry.
We enjoyed views of both new and old parts of Recife and clusters of favelas were noticeable on riverbanks. There were even some being kept above river water on stilts. The blend of old and new, rich and poor, branco e preto is just what makes this part of Brazil so invigorating! To do full justice to Pernambuco, Recife and Olinda would take at least a week. There’s music to tantalise the ear, fruit to tickle the taste buds, ceramics, sculptures and carvings to furnish entire houses without fear of repetition: Hopefully there will be a window in the diary for 2012/3 to make a hop over the Atlantic…