A Call to Carnival, Ilha Grande

Who would have thought I'd make it this far...?? In a day or two I've officially been out on this Latin American escapee for an entire year; a whopping 365 days living out of an undersized backpack, resting my weary head upon scundgy pillows & talking nonsense with all breeds of travellers from every corner of the globe. It's been one hell of a wild ride, that's for sure...and what'ya know; I got to top it off with a samba swinging, cachaça induced Carnival after all!! There's been blood, beaches & terrible Brazilian 'hock-y-holl;' what more could this young gallivanting gringo ask for?? Well as you may well know by now, my mind likes to reek havoc upon my decision making practicalities...I'm simply having too much fun. Three weeks is hardly enough in a country so sensational as this!! If only I could stay a little longer. I can see myself setting up shop somewhere along 'The Emerald Coast;' diving by day, jiving by night...getting holiday makers drunk off complimentary cocktails & good times. A sun dance romance did little to make matters easier. Haha sorry, obviously the hard life of a wanderer. We'll have to see what is to come - until then, let's follow that trail...alllllll the way back to last week when shit got peachy...

The posse ready to street party!!

It was a bit of a melodramatic meltdown on our way back from Búzios. Not only was my body slowly beginning to break down after the past five heinous nights of bootie shaking boogie madness (during my supposed 'Rio detox'), but somehow the chauffeuristic communication with our new Argentine co-pilot seemed to follow suite and got well lost in translation. Every now and then you meet some well meaning freak that makes you feel better about your own slightly obscure banter. Well here we all were, trapped with his charismatic demeanor; zig-zagging along the highway back to Rio de Janeiro with beats blasting & hangovers building. JackiO had been hooking up with one of the bar tenders for the past few nights or so, and as it turned out, his mate happened to be heading back to the city for some assumed 'official secret men's business,' and he had kindly offered to take us along for the ride. Score!! It's not every scum dog day you get to cruise the Brazilian coastline in a private van with a bunch of mates. The journey culminated with another spectacular venture across the bridge, and it wasn't long before we were stuck in an intersection hopping honk fest, ploughing the boulevards of Copacabana. It all seemed to good to be true; and as often is the case - it proved to be so. I was under the impression these guys were up to something here in Rio to make sense of the long journey, so obviously I believed our madman was taking the piss when he quoted our trip to 400 reais. I laughed it off, and convinced everyone else that 20 reais a piece would more than suffice. We got our bags off top, said our goodbyes and toddled off. Done. It wasn't until later on that night that I got a buzz from JackiO with the draw dropping news. Turns out she got stooged with the extra 300 reais we never paid up!! What the fuck?? He was bloody serious!! So much for Mr. RadCoolWhateva Mo'focker...the bus was only 45!! Ahhh...in hindsight it was a lot of fun, and I'd like to imagine it was our misunderstanding. Stay steezy my beautiful faced friend - enjoy your riches.

It was sad to see PeeTee leave on such crappy circumstances that night. We'd had plans for a whopper of a Carnival, and it would have been a great way to end his trip. We sunk a few beers on the veranda of my hostel until he took off into the night for his final shenanigans. After chatting the hours away with an all too peaceful English lass, I retreated to the 'soltitude' of my bunk bed...four meters high above the floor with little to stop me rolling out bar my travel books. It was a restless night; I couldn't even bend my legs. However, the next morning had me as sprouty as ever, all geared up for a tour of Rios notorious favelas. Rocinha is the largest of the lot in the city; jammed quite prominently between the wealthier areas of São Conrado and Gávea. At last 'count,' it was estimated that there were somewhere between 150,000 to 300,000 people living within the maze like confusion of the slum. Few people pay for electricity (which they 'borrow' from nearby outlets) & for the better part they only receive government funded water on a sporadic every three or four day basis.

Rocinha favela

I was a little pessimistic about the legitimacy of the tour. I assumed we'd be shuffled through the hectic streets like a waving pack of queens; pushed into buying cheap souvenirs & raping peoples daily lives. It's times like these that I really feel like a dick of a tommy tourist. However, on the contrary, no matter how genuine or not it turned out to be, I was pleasantly surprised with the outing. Our guide took us all the way to the top of the hill, from where we exited the van and began to meander our way down through the tangle of lively alleys. To my surprise, there were shops everywhere; kind of like home job businesses that provided all the same services you might find in a normal community. Kids followed us as we shuffled along, acting like shrunken adults. After ten minutes or so I felt completely at ease. The people here were much friendlier in my opinion than those back down on the beaches. And what about the views!! It's hard not to wonder why these aren't the hangouts of the rich & the famous. By the time we'd finished the walk, I was completely knackered from the heat, but absolutely enlightened on the real day to day life of these people. As a whole, they are by no means dangerous....of course there are the bad in any mob; that's a world wide affair. These are the people who clean your rooms, drive your buses & cook your food. They work hard & help each other. More so maybe than you or I.

Rad favela kids

That night I wandered down to Ipanema beach to watch the sunset, where I was supposed to meet up with JackiO for a Rio Reunion. JackiO forgot to wake up, so that never happened...instead I listened the football on TV, talked smack with a hot French air hostess & drank caipirinhas until I got bored. The party continued later as always back at the hostel. This was turning into such a bad anti-binge leading up to Carnival it was almost comical. We went out with a bunch of shit Aussies, who happened to know some of the other folk from my favela tour earlier. It was a bit of a senseless night, so Seema & I decided to bail on the revellers and call it a night. On the way back, while searching for crisps, it was fairly deserted along the streets - probably not the best idea in hindsight; but I'd come to get used to this kind of thing. However out of the corner of my eye I soon noticed some staggering mess, wallowing about on the curb. I tried not to draw attention to ourselves and got Seema to pick up the pace; much to her disgust I wouldn't tell her why. As I looked back I glimpsed this guy tapping a knife on the street pole, not really looking in any one direction. The confrontation was avoided but it was a tad unnerving. When I finally did spill my beans to the poor girl she practically laughed at me...so much for helping the ladies out!! Never again.

Surfers at Ipanema beach

I spent the next day summing up my options. I was running out of time on this continent, so I had to get a move on fairly soon. When would I likely be in Rio de Janeiro once again for Carnival?? Probably never...so I had to stay. I made the call to bail after one night, so in the mean time I journeyed out to the markets for a browse looking something to wear. I can't say I got much shopping done, but it was a lively all happening affair. The town was a buzz. Things were bound to get crazy.

Later that night I met back up with Pepi & her friend for some drinks at a near by bar. I've now come to realise email is a horrible way of rapid fire communication, as I spent the better half of a day trying to settle on a solid plan. Getting drunk often means getting hungry, so when we were all done with our buckets of beer; MaccyDees was called upon to help us friends in need. All was swell until we started chatting about personalities. Pepi's friend happens to be a psychiatrist, a god-forsaken profession in my opinion for social interactions, and before I knew what was happening my past was being picked to pieces for all but me to see. I've often wondered why I am the way I am, but I don't think it is so healthy to look too deep into it. I'm a show-pony I know...maybe I hide behind this mirage...but then again fuck no!! Who are you to tell me what you think you know about me. Hell, I don't even know!! Then to start ranting whether this is the reason why I travel, or asking what I want out of life since I can never seem content...I tried to listen, in truth I'd love to know; but as long as I'm not a bad person, or hurting anyone else for that matter, I don't think I really need to know. I love my life and people can love or hate me for it. I gave Pepi a smooch goodbye and waved my farewells. Way too much for a chilled Maccas mung.

Anyhow, the first day of Carnival had finally arrived!! Boy was I feeling revved up. I bought some cheap garments from a street stall vendor and made the mish into Lapa with a bunch of girls from the hostel to meet my Búzio posse back at Books. Pretty soon I lost the girls; they went off to grab some munch and never came back - apparently I was supposed to re-unite with them at some point...oh well. At the hostel I ran into a dude I hadn't seen since Cusco, and then DanThePirateMan who was also waiting on the same chums. We waited, and we waited...in the mean time we got drunker while we did all this waiting. When the stooges finally walked through the door the day was surely set in stone to be a success. I couldn't contain my excitement. We drank more beer, then began the arduous climb through the humid heat to a street party high up in the suburb of Santa Teresa. What a nut fest!! I've never seen so many revellers jammed into such a small space. People were being pulled out of the crowd seemingly unconscious, and then being thrown into the back of ambulances. It was way to hot to push through the mob; the only relief came when we retreated into the shade, or yet again when we found an available wall to piss on. Some woman thought it would be a great idea to drive up into the blockade...there was no where worse she could have ventured. She ended up having to perform the most exaggerated & drawn out three-point turn I've ever seen.

Santa Teresa street party

By the time we'd left the afternoon street party my clothes had been shredded, I'd began a drum beating brigade & I'd threw my flip-flops into the crowd. Barefoot in the barrios. Smart move. We made on back to Books, had ourselves way too many more caipirinhas, then hopped onto the metro for another round on the streets. This time we popped out in Ipanema; by this point I was close to wrecked. The beers were going down like water before, but the cachaça curse had come back out to play, and wasn't letting me win this one. I had to leave. I didn't want to leave these guys since I new I'd most likely never see them again, but this shit happens daily. I payed my ciao's for the night, and walked all the way back to my hostel in Copacabana; trying to take in the never ending strip of street party going on along Avenida Atlantica. I'd survived one night of Carnival in Rio, I doubt I could have survived another.

Groovin'

The following morning was as you can imagine...unexplainably awful!! Why do people do this to themselves?? It's an easy to answer question - we love to party, & no one parties like the Brazilians. When in Rome, yea?? I had a shuttle all organised to get me the hell out of there. I left some cash behind the desk for JackiO to make up for our staggering Búzio bill, and kicked back for the ride out to Ilha Grande. I felt like shit the entire way; I had to stop all this. A few days beach bumming was exactly what I needed. Despite my pained personal inner quirks, the drive itself was magnificent. What a coastline!! I can't exactly put it into words. Emerald islands dotted the bays of sleepy mountain fortified settlements. Over every hill opened a completely fresh panorama. Everything was lusciously green. The slopes teemed with life. Coming across on the boat was reminiscent to arriving on the island of Jurassic Park. My hangover disappeared. It took me a while to search for a hostel, but here I felt like I had all the time in the world. I ended up in the same hostel as one of my mates from back in Rio, and it didn't take long before we got chatting to the rest of the dwellers. Well, I'll call it chatting but in reality for the most part Matt & I were relying heavily on sign language or any of the Spanish I could muster. That was until a girl called Prue from near São Paulo finally built up the courage to open her mouth, blabbering away all night in near perfect English. What a babe. We hit it off immediately. For hours we sat there talking small talk, guzzling caipirinhas and watching the Carnival processions bustling noisily along the streets in the torrential rain. Rio was a hoot, but this was more my kind of thing.

On arrival at Ilha Grande

Later that night we hit the streets for some samba'ing mayhem!! The rain had called it quits, and we could finally escape the walls of the hostel. The live band was in full force, busting out all the apparent Brazilian classics. Prue explained that Brazilian bands love to include a line of English in their songs for some reason, so at least I could sing along to something. 'Break it down' was obviously a popular anthem, 'Quebra Ae!!' rings riot in my head even now!! The other one that made me laugh was 'Ciao, I have to go now...', so bad yet SO GOOD!! Genius. I promised Prue we could become millionaires if only she could help me write some horribly cheesy Brazilian pop song. We danced the night away well until the music came to a stand still. Prue tried to teach me how to samba, and some other fast dance where you move your feet frantically and smile. I was loving this country way too much...the girls were even joking I was Brazilian now. Nice remark, however I think my Portuguese & samba have a long way to go yet!!

Waking up was a little hazy the next morning. I thought I'd missed breakfast when my room was completely vacant. That would have put a damper on things; Carnival out here is expensive!! As always it took me a while to open my eyes, find the ham & cheese, then make a move with Matt to walk to Lopes Mendes Beach on the other side of the island. My shoes were drenched within the first few minutes when I got too lazy to take them off and tried in vain to jump a river. After that, it was a pretty cruisy hike despite the humidity. It was good to be out doing some kind of exercise again. On the last little section there were old shapes of people slipping and sliding down the hill in all directions. It was kind of funny to watch. Then again, I axed it when I tried to sneak on past in an impatient pursuit. We met the girls at the beach, and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around in the sun & knocking back waves. The whole situation with Prue was turning into some kind of weekend holiday romance...what was happening to me?? I actually really liked the girl. Once we were sun stroked out, and my sunga tan was well and truly peeling back like sheets of plastic, we made the call to boat back to town. It was a wise decision; I was passed out on the deck before the boat had even left the jetty.

A quiet beach on Ilha Grande

I was really beginning to see an alternative life out these parts by this point. I was so relaxed, more so than I think I had been anywhere on the entire trip. The only irritation was that I had to get back to Buenos Aires in 10 days or so to catch my flight. Was there a way out of it?? Who knows. I could always come back. 2014 in Brazil could be one hell of an extravaganza!! That night we practically did the same shit as the one before. There was a mad lightning storm like none I'd ever seen, and after wards the band chimed in again with the exact same repertoire. I was beginning to learn even the Brazilian hooks. Every song seemed to have its own bloody dance!! Prue did her best not to laugh I'm sure. I got mine back again when the Black Eyed Peas came on, as she sang along with 'tonights gunna be a good night,' I'm sure it was the cutest thing I've ever heard.

Drinkin caipirinhas with Prue

The weather was perfect the next morning. The skies had cleared from the constant down pours, and it seemed everyone was amped for one final horah. I stole the guitar from the hostel & thought I'd work some magic down at the beach. I wish I had one to travel with, but hell they'd also be such a pain in the ass to carry. We found a spot on the 'black beach' to loath away the hours. We played a few chilled out songs before the tides began to wash every ones things out to sea!! The girls managed to save the beers. Horay!! Later we cooled off in the fresh water pools just up the hill, where there were places to dive & slide off the rocks. Prue took a tumble at one point and slammed well hard into the floor. Poor thing...I was well smitten by this point. After a bit of a chill sesh, I washed my things and toddled off. It had been another perfect day in paradise.

More beach bummin' with the girls

That night was to be the last with Prue & the posse, so we had to make the most of it. I tried to take a quick siesta to liven me up, but it was difficult with all the banter going on outside. I felt some sugar fuelled caipirinhas might do the trick instead, but before too long I was proper pissed. Not the best start. Then the girls decided to pull out a bottle of vodka...this was looking like turning into a messy night. Let's just say thank god for my BrazilianGodess; possibly the first person ever in the entire world to be able to keep me from guzzling the night away to irreversibility. Instead of landing flat on my face with intoxication, we decided to meander along the beach, enjoying the calm of the night and each others company. I think in truth, that was likely the most (if not the only) romantic runaway moment of my life. I've gone all fucking soppy in the process. I couldn't have asked for a better few days on the beach with a cooler chick. It's just a shame everything has to come to an end...

The last night with everyone

The girls were off in the morning. I hate goodbyes so I decided to make an early start for the mountains to avoid it. I hoped to see Prue again, but I wasn't so sure it would happen. To change my Europe plans all over again would be quite the shamble, then again I guess it comes down to what ever makes me happy. Yet for the time being, I had a mountain to climb; and a tough sucker at that. It was ridiculously hot!! My clothes were off within the first few minutes. Parrots Peak, towers 3,000 ft over the islands main town of Abraão, providing a fairly tough stint for someone who's been on the cans for the past 15 nights. I was dripping by the time I reached the peak. I felt like I'd lost a whole gallon of sweat on the way up. Also my feet were killing me from the 2 sizes too small Connie's that I'd found on a bathroom floor in Bariloche. However, as always the views were well worth the effort. From out on a rocky outcrop, one could see practically half of the island. Beaches stretched around coastline of every adjustment, and in the distance it was possible to make out the complexity & beauty of the surrounding areas. It was something else. Everything fell into place at that exact moment. I had flash backs from an entire year...the highs, the lows, the places & all the faces. I was so grateful for everything I'd come to have done. I felt like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

Abraão from Parrots Peak

And so I'll leave it at that. From road trippin' madness, Carnival carnage, and being pushed around by a grumpy Argentine hostel owner for sitting on the wrong side of his balcony. I climbed yet another mountain, bummed around on beautiful island beaches & fell in love with a bitchin' Brazilian babe. It's all happening. Ciao, I have to go now!!

Much luvin everybody, thanks a ton for reading!!
Toots from a Hoot...
Nicko xxx