Buenos Aires - San Telmo & La Boca

Every Argentinian I've ever met will mention how "European," or how similar to Paris is their stately capital city Buenos Aires. Travel guides reckon that Argentina is oddly positioned in Latin America, and feels greater kinship with its European cousins, from which the overwhelming majority are descended, than its neighbours Brazil, Bolivia and Chile.

We may be visiting a place in the bottom corner of a developing continent, but Buenos Aires does its very best to convince you otherwise. There are the stunning grand baroque buildings adorning its the central Plaza de Mayo, including the president's crib, Casa Rosada (pink house) and the Catedral Metropolitana. Spanning out from the so-called microcentro are a web of grand avenues. And by grand I mean WIIIDDDE. One of them, Av 9 de Julio, is about 20 lanes wide and has four separate pedestrian crossings to help you across this enormous road.

Argie ''European'' pride

The streets of the centre are lined with beautiful 19th century apartment blocks, boasting posh little shrub-lined balconies. We could be in Paris but there are not nearly enough trendy cafes. Instead, there are cheese-filled delis, shops selling empanadas, grocery stores with giant butcher shops in the back and takeaway shops selling steaks, burgers and sausages.

If you face north to the Rio de Plata (which you can't see much of because there is a giant marsh in the way), to the left there are a series of giant parks, upmarket apartments and trendy shops in the barrios of Recoleta and Palermo. To the right is the slightly more shabby but equally trendy neighbourhood of San Telmo, followed by the seedy former port district of La Boca. We divided our 10-day stay in Buenos Aires along this axis - four days being urban hipsters in a grungy hostel in San Telmo, and the remainder in a stylish modern apartment in Palermo.

Like Argentina itself, San Telmo has had a riches to rags history, but is in the process of clawing its way back into the spotlight. With rows and rows of tattered colonial mansions, San Telmo was originally built as an upscale area, until sickness plagues drove the urban elite to move further north. It then became more of a ghetto, as the big houses were subdivided and overcrowded with large families. More recently, as artists and general boho types became interested in the area, it is starting to gentrify again.

In cafe/bar El Federal at San Telmo

Quirky clothes, antiques, homewares and bric-a-brac shops have popped up along San Telmo's cobblestone streets. They sit among the more established institutions of plush corner cafe/bars, so diverse that you can go there for a coffee, a cake, a glass of wine, a sandwich, or even a steak at just about any hour of the day. These little haunts are beautifully decorated, the walls lined with wine and fancy sherry bottles, historic pictures and antique bits and pieces.

Calle Defensa is a focal point for San Telmo, where you can find the most interesting shops and restaurants, particularly its intersection with Calle Chile, which is lined with sandwich bars and cafes that stay open until late. Further along Defensa is plaza Dorego, which plays host to a big antiques fair every Sunday. We missed the fair but arrived in time to see the tango dancing which takes over the plaza in the evening. A giant dancefloor with big speakers is set up in the plaza, and couples just show up and practice their moves. 

Do you tango?

Steak houses are another key institution in San Telmo. As in most of Argentina, you don't have to pay top dollar at a swanky place to enjoy a tender, perfectly grilled hunk of meat. We had a good tenderloin (called lomo) and an average bife de chorizo at Don Ernesto on Calle Carlos Calvo, although we suspect we were given ''gringo grill'' treatment after we ordered our steaks jugoso (medium rare) and they came out decidedly medium - no blood in sight. We also shared a butterflied t-bone at Desnivels on Defensa, which was not quite as tender, and again overcooked. To our dismay, other diners in the place had managed to order thick pink juicy steaks - obviously we need to learn the Spanish word for ''still moo-ing.''

A few blocks east of San Telmo near the waterfront are a series of canals that were dredged out with the intention of becoming the new port (when the original one at La Boca became too small). In typical Argentine style, the digging took too long - by the time it was completed 30 years later, the canals were too narrow to accommodate the recently expanded berths of modern ships. The project was abandoned and the area fell into decay, joining the many other square kilometres of disued port areas around the city.

Stylish modern buildings line the renewed canal precinct

But the bulldozers moved in and created a huge urban renewal area, to rival that of Docklands, Canary Wharf (and maybe one day Barangaroo?). The canals, or diques as they are known, are lined with tarted up warehouses (a la Jones Bay Wharf), modern business park style squat office blocks and shadowed by huge apartment towers. Wide paved walkways line the canals and are popular with power walkers, dog walkers and, another Buenos Aires specialty group, rollerbladers.

That's right - its not the 90s any more but no one told the Argies. Rollerblading is immensely popular here - people drive from all over BA to these wide, flat expanses to pull on their 'blades and go for a cruise. We spotted many people practicing fancy moves - going backwards, spinning, breaking suddenly. There were a couple of skateboarders out and about but their numbers paled in comparison compared to the rollerblading crowd.

The No 10 Messi jersey is a market fave

South of San Telmo, clustered around the disused port area (which nobody has yet bothered to rebuild) is La Boca, a far shabbier part of town. Colonial buildings are far more dilapidated here, and many are boarded up and look like they have turned into squats. We took a stroll down here one Saturday - despite the usual warnings of it being ''dangerous,'' we found it perfectly fine to wander down the main drag, although it didn't really provide much entertainment in the form of shop and/or people watching.

La Boca's smelly waterfront area - its thanks to the black estuary-like riverbank - has a wide footpath, but it isn't populated with the usual walking and rollerblading crowd. Further along though is a buzzing precinct filled with markets, tango bars and restaurants. Along El Caminito (the little walkway), the shops and houses are painted a variety of vivid, clashing colours. There are tarted up makeshift dwellings that look like they may have been constructed from shipping containers. Adding to the colourful medley are bright street murals.

Swept away by Igauzu Falls

View of the falls from Brazil

Forming part of the border between Brazil and Argentina smack bang in the middle of a semi-tropical rainforest, the mighty Iguazu falls is not exactly convenient to anywhere. It is a 16 hour bus ride to Sao Paulo in one direction and 17 hours to Buenos Aires in the other direction. But it obviously has a lot of pulling power - people endure bus rides of up to 24 hours to visit this magical natural wonder.

The falls can be viewed from both sides of the border. Divided by islands in the river into about 275 separate waterfalls, they gush downwards and are between 60 and 80 metres in height. Its possible to see more of the waterfalls in one hit from the Brazilian side of the border, giving a general overview of the area.

The Brazilian side has several lookout points dotted along a 1500 metre walking track. It culminates with a bridge over the river right in front of the breathtaking Devil's Throat area, a 150 metre wide u-shaped portion of the river where the water rushes through incredibly fast, creating an enormous cloud of mist which soaks you right through when you are on the viewing platform.

View of the falls from Argentina

Visiting from the Argentine side, while slightly more expensive than the Brazilian side, allows you to get more up close and personal with the falls. It has several different walks you can take through the national park which wind their way very close to some of the falls. There is a viewing platform practically underneath the Salto waterfall where you get thoroughly drenched - fortunately the mild climate means you are dry again within minutes. Another trail takes you above the waterfalls so you can watch them crashing down into the lower part of the river.

The highlight of the Argentine side is the track up to the other side of the Devil's Throat. While on the Brazil side there is the bridge that brings you underneath and to the side of it, on the Argentine side the platform walkway gives you a birds eye view. It is almost hypnotic standing at the platform, watching the water crash down into the misty abyss below. We were standing there in awe for about 10 minutes, when suddenly the water current must have increased because we were dumped on by a huge misty cloud of water. Check out our Devil's Throat video.

View of the Devil's Throat from Argentina

There was an amazing amount of wildlife in the park, considering it was pretty packed with tourists. We spotted an endangered Brazilian tapir along the roadside when we were on the bus back to the visitors' centre. We were dismayed to find about 50 tour buses parked out front when we rocked up to the Argentine side at 10am, yet still the park was alive with the chirping of brightly coloured blue birds and there were dozens of coati - a rodent-like creature with a tail like a racoon and a long bendy snout - sniffing around in areas where people were eating. On the way to see the Devil's Throat, there was a decent-sized alligator snoozing on one of the islands in the river.

Alligator!

Although we were incredibly reluctant to leave Brazil - it has been one of the highlights of our trip so far - we opted to stay at Puerto Iguazu on the Argentine side, which is a smaller, friendlier (and cheaper) town than industrial Foz do Iguacu on the Brazilian side. We arrived in Foz do Iguacu after a 16 hour bus ride from Sao Paulo, took two local buses to get from the bus station to the falls (despite what the Lonely Planet tells you, buses to the falls leave from a different bus station to the long distance terminal) and visited the Brazilian side before crossing into Argentina.

From the falls, we jumped in a taxi to the border post on the Iguazu river, a few kilometres downriver. Once we got our exit stamps, we walked across the bridge to Argentina. The cement siding on the road was painted Brazil's national colours of green and yellow until exactly halfway, when they changed to Argentina's light blue with a white stripe. Apparently the two countries had to share the cost of building and maintaining the bridge, and couldn't agree on the colour scheme!

We enjoyed our stay in Puerto Iguazu - it was a nice introduction to Argentina, a friendly little town and beautifully easy to navigate after our time in the big cities of Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. We liked our hostel Residencial Uno, located on a quiet residential street of town, which had friendly helpful owners, a nice terrace to chill out on and five beautiful Alsatian dogs as pets.

Eating our way through São Paulo

All you can eat sushi!

Sprawling São Paulo does not boast the spotless beaches or stunning vistas of its coastal neighbour Rio de Janeiro, but it has a style and finesse that makes it worth visiting this non-stop metropolis. The city's attractions are not always obvious on first glance – you have to look more closely to discover its gems.

It is highly recommended to arrive in São Paulo with an empty stomach and pack a big appetite. This mega-city is absolutely bursting with places to eat, from neighbourhood grocery stores called lanchonetes to pizza parlours, French bistros and sushi bars. There are also 24-hour bakeries where you can have sit down buffets or hamburgers, pizzas and enormous sandwiches made to offer at any hour of the day. We went into one at 3am and ordered massive roast beef sandwiches with rocket, cheese and pineapple, and the place was packed with people of all ages doing the same, like it was a completely normal thing to do!

The secret behind São Paulo’s amazing gastronomy is its cultural diversity – it is the biggest, most multicultural city in Brazil. Its divine Japanese cuisine is thanks to the biggest Japanese community living outside of Japan. Besides offering amazing foreign cuisine, São Paulo has also taken traditional Brazilian favourites, such as rodizio or buffet, churrasco meat barbeques and chopp or draft beer and perfected them. The city is also awash with traditional Portuguese botequim bars which sell ice-cold beer, caipirinhas and snacks such as cod ball croquettes and meat sandwiches.

Teatro Nacional

São Paulo isn’t a mecca for sightseeing – it does have a couple of museums and cathedrals to gawk at, but its historical centre of town is quite run down, having been neglected in previous generations. Work is being done to improve the areas around Praça da Sé and Praça da Republica, in between which the beautifully domed Teatro Nacional sits.

The centre of town is quite a weird place because it is such a hotchpotch of different architectural styles. You’ll find a row of Parisian-style apartments next to a dull grey 70s-style throw up with tiny windows and no balconies. It seems as if the city was built with little to no planning in mind – unlike other mega-cities there are no grand avenues or colonial quarters, and hardly any big parks or public spaces.

The city’s central market, Mercado Municipal, is freakishly clean and organised compared to other Latin American markets. Fruit stalls are neatly stacked, butcher stalls have meat sealed in chilled sections behind glass cabinets and there is a restaurant-style eating area in a mezzanine level food court. Downstairs we found an amazing lanchonete or sandwich shop selling the most amazing variety of pasteis, which look like very large pasties stuffed with various combinations of meat, chicken, fish and gooey catupiri cheese, a runny white concoction that looks like liquefied Laughing Cow cheese.

Tall buildings dominate the skyline in every direction – from the centre it looks like most of the city’s 20 million residents live in vertical villages and work in office towers. True, São Paulo is the industrial and financial engine of Brazil, being its centre of manufacturing, automotive, high-tech and luxury goods industries. But its world-class restaurants, metro system and freeways mask another side to the city which is safely tucked away from tourists’ eyes. While there are many wealthy people living here, there are also millions living in slums away from the big end of town, and its high crime rate is a persistent problem.

Just south of the centre, skyscraper-lined Avenida Paulistana is São Paulo’s commercial and financial hub. Further out from this, and easily accessible on the city’s fabulous metro system, are a bunch of trendy bohemian neighbourhoods where locals congregate to eat, shop, party and stare at artworks. The concrete-clad urban environment is made more interesting by the amazing array of street art and murals on just about every street corner.

Vila Madalena is an artsy, upmarket neighbourhood a few kilometres from the centre. Its main intersection is packed with huge pub-style restaurants. Quieter side streets play host to an interesting collection of art galleries, quirky clothes shops and fancy restaurants. On Saturdays the area comes alive with markets – fruit sellers take over the main drag Rua Mourato, selling all types of fresh produce, including cheese, olives and nuts.

Film projectors and old dial phones for sale

A few streets away, past rows of antique furniture stores and the imposing family tombs in the São Paulo cemetery, there is a giant antiques fair. We spotted an amazing variety of goods on offer here, to action figurines of Astro Boy, Bananas in Pyjamas and other 80s favourites to old Brazilian vinyl records, film projectors, army helmets, swiss army knives and even a rocket launcher!

The antiques on display were impressive – entire sets of polished silverware, napkin rings, trifle servers and sherry glasses, as if every Nana’s house in the whole city had been raided and put up for sale. There were also more modern items you would expect to find at markets such as jewellery, quirky artworks, baby clothes and fresh flowers.

One of the many things we couldn’t leave Brazil without trying is its national dish, Feijoada. This delicacy is a bean stew with assorted cuts of pork, including ribs, fillet, sausage and optionally, ears and various piggy insides. It is served in a giant bubbling cauldron, and accompanied by rice, spinach, crunchy fried crackling and this strange powdered cassava stuff called farofa which is sprinkled over top and used to thicken up the sauce. The stew has this amazing smoky pork flavour, and the meat falls right off the bones.

Crowds gather outside Consulado Mineiro waiting for a table

We were instructed to head to Consulado Mineiro, a Brazilian culinary institution located right opposite the markets. It was overflowing with people drinking on the pavement, waiting for a table. We had to wait an hour but decided it was worth it. It helped that we could order beers and drink them on the sun-drenched pavement. An order for two costs 60 reals ($35), and is absolutely enormous. It could easily have fed a family of four. Nevertheless we were prepared for the challenge and arrived for the task with totally empty stomachs. We nearly managed to polish off the entire stew, but there was still plenty of rice left. It was so filling that we had trouble walking home, and had to lie down for a siesta shortly afterwards. We didn’t need to eat anything  for the next 24 hours!

We had intended to check out more live music and clubs in São Paulo, but we were a little put off the first night when we went to a restaurant that had a band playing (sitting down at one of the tables) and we were automatically charged a cover charge without being told – it just showed up later on the bill.

Feijoada food coma

Fortunately Casa Club, the hostel where we stayed, had it all worked out for us – they had a different live band on every night, and sold ice buckets packed with beers in them for under $10. There was a great banjo-toting funk band on the Saturday night that played a bunch of Brazilian favourites before switching to covers of popular music later on in the night.

Casa Club’s bar was really popular with the locals, and was packed out every night. The locals were super-friendly and always eager to chat – and practise their English. Everyone in the city we encountered were very nice, and went out of their way to help us, even if they didn’t speak English. We were lost in the city with our map out (ok, and kind of arguing about which direction to walk in), when a guy stopped to help us, gave us directions and even walked part of the way down the street to make sure we were going the right way!

Rio de Janeiro - Ipanema and Copacabana

For Cariocas, or Rio de Janeiro natives, weekends involve a street party or two, a visit to one of the city's stunning beaches and watching as much football as possible. The fact that Carnaval doesn't start for months is no barrier - there is a street party every Friday night on the main drag of grungy inner city neighbourhood Lapa, and other impromptu samba parties are not hard to find.

On Saturday evening, in the normally drab centre of town, the roads fronting a number of small bars were closed off and a samba band set up on the street. It was all very civilised, with the musicians sitting on chairs at a table sipping beers, surrounded by several hundred people craning their necks to watch them. The main singer was this enormous guy with a great baritone voice playing a proportionately tiny ukelele. All up, the band had about 10 members, including several playing African style drums and percussion instruments, many similar to those we have seen in bands playing Cuban music.

Giant flag at the football

On the Sunday we trekked out to Rio's Olympic stadium - not the biggest in town as its gigantic Maracana stadium is undergoing renovations - to watch a local derby between rivals Flamengo and Vasco. This meant we were able to see Brazilian football star Ronaldinho, who plays for Flamengo, in action. The match was important, Flamengo needed to win in order to ascend to the top of the table, but not being Brazilian football league experts we didn't really care about the outcome and weren't sure which side to go with.

It turned out that this decision was made for us. We went to the match in a big group, paying heaps extra for the privilege of being picked up and dropped off in a mini-bus, because we were told the match was "sold out." We were all seated together right in the middle of the Vasco section, right under a bunch of big swirling flags and groups of intensely passionate fans, so we couldn't exactly start barracking for the other side!

Football hooligans - brazil style.

Before the match officially started, both sides of the stadium - fans of opposing teams are strictly segregated on opposite sides - engaged in a massive, all out sledging match. First drums pounded, fans chanted and flags were lifted on one side of the stadium, then the other side screamed and chanted back in response. There were flags like giant tarpaulins that came down over our heads and laid out flat, covering hundreds of people each. It looked pretty cool when the opposite side of the stadium had all their flags rolled down. When our sides were rolled down, it was like being trapped under a parachute and not being able to see anything!

The actual match was pretty uneventful, being a nil all draw. The fun was more in seeing Brazilian football nuts on their feet shouting the whole match, practically crying when their team narrowly missed a goal, and then ripping their shirts off and cheering all the same. It would have been even more crazy had any goals been scored!

Ipanema

Rio's famous beaches, Ipanema and Copacabana lie just south of the city proper, around the corner from the big rocky mass the Sugar Loaf which juts out into the Atlantic. Opinion is always divided on which is the better beach. The longer, skinnier Ipanema seemed to have reliably better surf, although a strong current made it pretty uncomfortable for swimming. But both had picture-perfect powdery sand, turquoise water and beautiful green mountains as backdrops.

Neither beach goes wanting in terms of action on the sand. Even though we were in the area early in the working week, there were thousands of people there, soaking up rays, sleeping under umbrellas, playing football and beach volleyball.

Ipanema beach has every product or service you can imagine right there on the sand. There are beach bars set up at regular intervals that rent out deck chairs and umbrellas. Roving hawkers sell everything from snacks such as prawns on skewers and acai berry smoothies to bikinis, sarongs and even Arabic art. 

As we discovered in other parts of Brazil, less is more when you're on the beach. We felt positively overdressed while walking along in tshirts and shorts trying to find the perfect position to occupy. Ipanema beach is so big that it is divided into different posts that look like they are more than a kilometre apart. Post 8 is the gay area and is littered with muscle-bound couples in super-tight budgie smugglers, while post 9 is packed out with beautiful people in thong bikinis lathered up with tanning oil.

Copacabana is prettier to look at being crescent-shaped and more sheltered as well, and had lots of cool bars adorning the beachfront. The road running along the beach is pretty built up, lined with fancy hotels and apartment blocks like a mini-Miami.

Forgot your bikini?

We opted to stay in Leblon, which borders Ipanema, because it had a bit more of a relaxed feel to it than Copacabana, which has streets lined with posh shops and hotels. Ipanema had an amazing variety of places to eat and drink - we hit on a Japanese restaurant that offered all you can eat sushi for around $25 which was an absolute winner. As a bonus, the sushi and sashimi was of amazing quality, better than I have ever eaten in Australia. There was also a great kebab joint just a block from our hostel that sold delicious felafel and lamb sharwarma.

Ipanema and Copacabana are both packed with traditional Portuguese-style botecos, or neighbourhood bars that also function as grocery stores, snack bars and restaurants. Some of these places are pretty basic - they used to be called "dirty feet" bars because this reflected the state of the feet of most of their patrons. Others have become trendy in recent years, and have upgraded their menu to a big variety of cocktails, wines and fancy foods. But the mainstay of these bars is chopp, or draft beer. Brazilians are famously anal about the way their beer is served - it is pulled at 0 degrees, served at 3 degrees and is meant to be finished before it warms up to 6 degrees.

We found some amazing sandwiches at Cervantes bar in Copacabana. Sadly we weren't in the mood for beer so did not have any chopp, but we were more than satisfied with a filet mignon sandwich - leaves the chewy Aussie steak sandwich for dead - and another sandwich stacked with inumerable slices of roast pork and topped with pineapple.

Sunset at Copacabana

Rio de Janeiro - Lapa and Santa Teresa

I go to Rio...de Janeiro

Brazil's first Portuguese colonial masterpiece needs no introduction. After all, it stars in so many bossa nova classic songs such as Copacabana, Girl from Ipanema and as my mother pointed out, Peter Allen's cheesy classic I go to Rio. It's barely a fifth of the size of Sao Paulo, but Rio de Janeiro is in many respects the pulsating heart of Brazil.

From its steep rainforest-covered outcrops overlooking squeaky clean apartment towers and precariously perched favelas clinging to the sides of the hills, this bayside city oozes energy from every oraface. Although probably most known for its beaches, there are endless things to see and do Rio's city centre and inner ring of suburbs, Lapa and Santa Teresa.

Walk a few streets this way and that, and the urban landscape changes completely. The commercial centre of Rio is, like most major cities, pretty non-descript, but just a few blocks over in the bohemian district of Lapa, the streets are lined with the plastic tables and chairs of Brazilian-style bars called botecas, restaurants and samba clubs.

Street murals in Santa Teresa

Lapa attracts big crowds on the weekends, especially on Friday night when its main drag Mem da Sa closes for a carnaval-style street party. Drumming troupes wallop out driving rhythms to the crowds drinking and dancing all over the street. Music erupts from the samba clubs lining the main drag, and there were also several clubs open in nearby alleyways. On one section, on a median strip underneath Lapa's giant white Roman-style aqueduct which splices the district in half, street vendors sell beer, popcorn, hamburgers and delicious Brazilian churrasco - an exotic word for chunks of grilled meat on skewers. But if you didn't want to leave your place in the crowd to go and get a drink, it didn't matter. Guys with trays of caipirinhas, Brazil's ubiquitous sugar-cane cocktail, circulated through the crowd.

While the party is on every night in Lapa - which in the past well-to-do locals wouldn't touch with a barge pole as it was a seedy, depraved red light district - Fridays is the night to go and experience it. Unfortunately the samba club owners realise this, and charge hefty entry prices for acts that on other nights you can go and see for free. We refrained from paying a cover charge, and instead opted to revel in the street outside the clubs, where you could still hear the music.

Colonial mansions of Santa Teresa

The street party attracts a diverse crowd. Everyone was there, from well-dressed groups of girls on the prowl to pickpocketing favela youths - one wandering hand dived into the pocket of my dress, where luckily there was only a map and some lip balm. There were even a few old guys busting a move outside the samba clubs at 5am. One guy with a toothless grin was asking us for money one minute, and then laying down his moves with us the next!

Lapa's parties showcase Rio's diversity in its full splendour, but the stark contrasts between the haves and the have nots are more blatant when you take a walk up any one of its steep hillsides. Giant, swanky white apartment blocks line the beaches and the trendy suburbs around the city centre, while rambling colonial mansions are tucked into the hillsides of leafy neighbourhood Santa Teresa. Its cobblestoned streets, lined with concrete retaining walls, are decorated with an amazing variety of street art, from council-commissioned murals, to throw-up graffiti pieces to all types of weird and wonderful characters and other spray-painted decorations.

One of Rio's many favelas

The area is quite mixed, with everything from schmick mansions to run-down tenements and even a giant castle jutting out of the hillside. Then there are the favelas, which occupy the steeper parts of the hillsides. Santa Teresa has no less than six separate favelas, interestingly all of which are marked on google maps, perched a stone's throw from stately colonial mansions protected by big rendered walls and razor wire. It is easy to make a wrong turn and accidentally stumble into a favela. It would be easy to get lost in the maze of streets but thankfully there is a tram line on the main one winding up the hill, which ferries people to and from the Corcovado, atop which the behemoth concrete Christ the Redeemer sits.

Santa Teresa's open-sided trams, or bonde as they are known locally, are an iconic part of this hilltop suburb. But tragically the day after we visited the area, there was a horrific accident where one of the trams lost control, skidded 50 metres down a hill and then hit a lamp post. This nearly sliced the tram in half and left 5 people dead and 27 injured. The accident made the bbc news and took place just minutes from our hostel. Some people staying there were walking up to take the tram and arrived on the scene right after it happened.

Visiting the famous Cristo, recently voted by internet poll as one of the new seven wonders of the world, is readily do-able by either tram, bus or simply walking up the hill. To admire the statue itself it is easier to go to one of the surrounding hills. The main point of going to the statue itself, and paying the entrance fee, is to admire the stunning 360 degree city views. Its height and central location means you can see all the weird and wonderful pockets of Rio, from the south zone and the beaches, to the city centre and all the way up to the less wealthy northern region.

Looking out to the Sugarloaf and the Atlantic beyond

The problem is, the weather isn't always amenable to a pretty Cristo sighting and Corcovado visit. Many tourists get their way up the hill, only to discover that the statue is shrouded in clouds, making it impossible to see the city laid out below. This was the case when we walked up the hill - so instead of going up to the Corcovado and paying the entrance fee, we opted for the lookout on a lower hill opposite. Looking out across the city, we didn't quite get the same panorama but were still able to see out to the beaches and over the coastline to Rio's other hilltop stunner, the Sugar Loaf, an almost vertical lump of rock that sits on a peninsula jutting out to the Atlantic.

There is so much to see in Rio that we thought it easier to try out two different neighbourhoods - the samba capital Lapa and leafy Santa Teresa for the weekend, and then relax at beachside Ipanema and neighbouring Leblon for a few days afterwards. It´s not always fun staying in the middle of a big, bad city but fortunately we lucked in on a fantastic hostel which made our stay so much better. Books Hostel is located in the heart of Lapa, right near the arches under which the weekly street party takes place. It´s a great place to hang out and meet people, and owners Renato and Felipe are really friendly and helpful and create a relaxed vibe.

Island fun on Morro de São Paulo

Our search for the perfect Brazilian beach led us as far north as the idyllic Jericoacoara and south to the pristine sands of Arraial d'Ajuda, but in the end we found the best option right under our noses. The secluded peninsula of Morro de São Paulo, one of five settlements on the island of Tinharé, can be reached by a two hour speedboat ride from the city of Salvador.

Beach 2, Morro de Sao Paulo

Morro de São Paulo is not exactly a tranquil tropical paradise; it has definitely been "discovered" by Brazilian and foreign tourists alike. Yet it somehow manages to retain a laid-back feel - development has been kept to a minimum. Many of the homes and shops have been there since colonial times, their painted façades and terracotta roofs looking out at the calm turquoise Atlantic ocean. 

To get there we took a catamaran for 75 reais (about $40) from Salvador's Terminal Maritimo Turistico, in the centre of town behind Mercado Modelo. It was a rough ride, despite being in a two-hulled boat, and we were covered in sea spray after the 60km journey.

The peninsula consists of three beaches (uninspiringly named beaches 1, 2 and 3) connected by a long walkway. Along the second, biggest beach, it becomes a wooden boardwalk, separating a wide, sandy expanse from a row of shops, restaurants and bars. After running alongside the first beach, the path winds its way up the hill and over to the ferry wharf on the other side of the peninsula. Every shop along this part seems to be selling havaianas, Brazil's famous native brand of flip flops (sorry to my fellow Aussies but as this is a blog also read by non-Aussies, I have to use international English) - you can even find a pair in the supermarket for $5 a pair.

Sadly, the beaches here aren't great for swimming, thanks to great colonies of rocks implanted in the sand. It's possible to swim at high tide, when the water comes up so far it practically envelops the entire beach. There are some tracts of beach that are rock-free, but the bottom is a little muddy so the visibility isn't great. After searching for a perfect swimming spot for days we abandoned our plan to swim laps, and instead were contented to wallow in the shallows.

Luckily, there is plenty to distract you from the lack of a perfectly-formed beach. In Brazil, it seems that most of the action takes place out of the water. Morro de São Paulo offers people watching par excellence. Its most interesting mix includes locals hanging about selling coconuts, playing soccer and beach volleyball, toned young Brazilian couples in skimpy bikinis and super-small male briefs (Tony Abbott eat your heart out), middle aged women dressing as 20-somethings and the odd French or Scandinavian family on holiday. 

Brazilians have invented their own take on beach volleyball, combining it with soccer so that instead of using your hands, your feet, knees, head and even chest are used to get the ball where it's going. Instead of serving with their arms they place the ball on a little mound at the back of the court and boot it into play. There is also a steady stream of locals going around to people on the beach trying to sell a host of other activities, from boat trips to kayaking and trying out the peninsula's zip line, which runs from the lighthouse on the cliff top down to the first beach.

On Brazilian beaches, less is more

Before embarking on a beach holiday, Brazilians seem to check their inhibitions at the door. No matter what their body type (although some obviously work pretty hard on theirs), they appear totally comfortable strutting about in extremely brief swimwear. I couldn't believe how popular budgie smugglers are on the beach, especially among middle-aged men. Brazilians have adapted the humble speedo, giving it slightly more coverage, sort of a very brief bike short look, and this is what the majority of them get around in.  

At night time the local guys, after an intense beach football match, would fire up a charcoal grill and make churrasco - lump after lump of exquisitely tender beef, which is cooked medium rare, sliced up and consumed on the spot. Stalls bursting with fruit and vegetable displays line the boardwalk, offering to liquify your favourite fruit into a caipirinha, made with Brazil's version of sugar cane rum, cachaça for five reais ($3), or for a little more into a caiprioska made with vodka. 

It was often tricky to negotiate the section of the boardwalk on the second beach that was lined with restaurants, especially when you walk along as a couple. When alone, everyone assumes you are not in the market for a meal. Some of the touts were a little enthusiastic, and would bail us up with either a big diatribe in Portuguese that we could barely understand, or worse, a fog-horn style of English with all of the vowels mixed up. On the whole though they were not too pushy and you are able to say 'no' politely and easily.

Restaurants and eateries at Morro de São Paulo offer everything from cheap sandwiches and hamburgers, to buffets where they weigh your food and charge by the kilo and fancy seafood restaurants serving up giant dishes that two people can share, from lobsters, crabs and other shellfish to local favourites moqueca, a palm oil and tomato based fish stew, and bobo de camarão, prawns in a hearty cassava stew. 

There are also churrasco restaurants where you can get all the grilled meat you can handle for 30 reais - $18. We found the best-tasting and good value meals away from the over-priced beach zone. Further up the hill you can find places selling executivo meals of the day for 15 reais, where you can chose from prawns, fish, beef and chicken and sides of beans, rice, mash and salad.

Absolute beachfront

Lining the beachfront is a row of bars with plastic tables, chairs and deckchairs selling snacks such as pasties and empanadas, perfect for washing down caipirinhas and beers. To our surprise and relief, Brazilians are masters at keeping their beers super-chilly. Fridges are turned down to just above zero degrees and each drink sold is encased in a screw-on cooler that leaves the stodgy Aussie stubby cooler for dead.

We arrived with an open-ended schedule, and eventually booked a flight out of Salvador which then gave us nine days to bask in the sun (and occasional storm) and sand. We had reserved Pousada Barra Vento, on the third beach, for three nights. It was a nice loft room with a great balcony in a thoughfully-run place, but we changed after three days to the beachfront Pousada Grauça, where we scored the front room with a balcony overlooking the beach and the walkway. Our first-floor room was so close to the beach that when the tide comes in, you could stare over the balcony directly down to the waves lapping gently at the sea wall. A very difficult place to leave, needless to say!

Our first-floor balcony

Dancing to a different beat in Salvador

Vibrant Salvador is a feast for the senses, yet its charm does not lie in the colour explosion that is its immaculately preserved colonial district, the Pelourinho. Nor is it drawn from its fortuitous location, perched atop a rugged peninsula jutting out onto the Atlantic Ocean.

Salvador’s true appeal comes from its defiant and indefatigable people, many of whom are descended from West Africans captured and brought to Brazil as slaves to work on sugar plantations over three hundred years. Slavery was abolished in 1851, yet the traditions it entrenched in these people in the face of adversity continue to this day.

It’s incredible how much of their culture Africans have brought with them and preserved in Brazil over the centuries. Salvador, capital of the north-eastern state of Bahia, remains the hub of Afro-Brazilian culture. Most notably, the Africans did not have their multi-deity religion, Candomble, squashed by the Portuguese, as happened to many other indigenous nations throughout Latin America.

Candomble survived because the African slaves cleverly disguised certain aspects of worship to resemble Catholicism, and were thus permitted to practice their religion. It is based around a group of deities, known as Orixas, each with their own unique outfits, responsibilities and a day of the week. Ogum is said to closely resemble Jesus, being the son of God, and has a nemesis that dwells in hell like the devil.

The female Orixas are illustrated wearing head turbans and brightly coloured skirts with big hoops in them. It’s easy to spot women dressed up as various Orixas throughout the Pelourinho, ready to lure unsuspecting tourists into restaurants or to eat at street stalls.

Woman dressed as an Orixa goddess

Another tradition kept alive during slavery and after is the capoeira dance, which has been popularised into a form of aerobics around the world. It was originally just a free fight between slaves, but when their masters beat them for fighting they adapted their moves into a slower-moving, but equally confrontational dance, set to pounding bongo drum rhythms.

Capoeira artists, whether talented or amateur, also prey on tourists wandering around the Pelourinho. Cast even a sideways dance at a mock fight and inevitably you will be mobbed by people demanding money for looking at the performance. The nicest way I can describe it is an extremely pro-active form of busking, bordering on consensual mugging in some instances. Sadly, the pushiest people are often after money for the more average performers.

Salvador is a sightseer’s delight – there are a zillion museums, monuments and churches to check out – but as usual we couldn’t really be bothered with all of this, even though we were disappointed when we later found out that some churches were decked out with gold bullion. We did visit the Afro-Brazilian museum, which catalogued the history of slavery in Salvador and had displays on the Orixas and contained some wooden carvings and intricate metal ornaments (and to Adam’s delight, and anyone who has seen the Will Ferrell Saturday Night Live sketch, a big cowbell).

The Pelourinho is perched atop a hill overlooking the Atlantic, its cobblestoned laneways running parallel to a sheer drop, below which the city’s commercial district sits. Scores of police patrol this hilltop touristy area bordered by disadvantaged neighbourhoods, but apparently this hasn’t stopped large numbers of muggings from taking place.

Ironically, children pose the biggest threat. A guy staying in our hostel was approached by one who threatened him with a broken bottle, and got away with his wallet, camera and phone. Another guy we met in Bolivia had been surrounded by a whole group of them who had promptly relieved him of the contents of his pockets. Sadly, many of these kids live on the streets and some are addicted to crack.

Salvador provides instant evidence that Brazil is a country of dramatic wealth contrasts. Its downtown area is ragged and rundown. We found ourselves on a street leading down the hill from the immaculately presented Pelourinho is lined with dilapidated buildings housing drinking dens and whorehouses, with hookers hanging about on the cracked pavements.

Barra Beach

The neighbourhoods lining the upmarket marina area on the waterfront are also run down and contain many condemned buildings. The small beaches opposite them are lined with rubbish, tents and shanties. But then again, I can think of plenty of worse places if you are going to be homeless.

Further up this coastal strip, the shanties disappear, making way for imposing modern apartment towers enclosed in razor wire fencing with security guards sitting in locked offices at the entrances. But the seediest part of town had to be the pedestrian walkway on the side of the freeway leading to the flashy apartments. Even though there were police stationed at the entrance, about 200 metres further down, groups of people were sitting down against the concrete walls, preparing crack pipes.

We were pretty surprised to see people doing it in public, and not really sure how these people would react to a couple of tourists interrupting them. But to our amazement, they simply smiled and said “Olá.” Maybe it would have been different if they didn’t have any crack left!

Closer to the tip of the peninsula is the affluent beachside neighbourhood of Barra. It is home to a strip of fancy hotels, apartment buildings and waterfront restaurants, but when we strolled up and down the road that hugs the ocean on a Sunday afternoon, the atmosphere was electric. Narrow beaches were crowded with people sitting fading beach umbrellas with stalls selling coconuts, guarana drinks and beer everywhere you looked.

But the best thing we observed about Brazilian beach culture was how liberated people are with their bodies. They just stroll about town in their super-brief swimsuits, men in little more than boy-leg budgie smugglers and women in microscopic bikinis. In short, there is a lot of flesh on display (in some cases a little too much), but everyone just seems so darn…comfortable in their own skins.

A final upside of the African influence on Salvador is its amazing cuisine, made even better by the variety of seafood on offer thanks to its coastal location. A standout is the moqueca, an amazingly rich fish and seafood stew cooked in dende or palm oil, and flavoured with tomatoes, onions and about a million spices. It tastes even better washed down with a few caipirinhas, made with Brazil’s famous cachaca sugar cane spirit, which go for just under $2.50 a pop.

Delicious moqueca fish stew

Bolivia’s wild east

Bolivia's appearance usually conjures up images of its bleak and unforgiving highland region where nothing but short tufts of grass, llamas and women in bowler hats and layered skirts can survive. It’s true that the altiplano, a 4000m altitude plain sandwiched between two mountain ranges supports 70 per cent of the population but most of Bolivia’s land is far more inviting. As you descend, the bald mountains turn into rolling green hills covered in dense rainforest, leading eventually to the flat, steamy Amazon jungle.

Heading east and away from the mountains, we stopped for a night at Cochabamba (a name that sounds curiously like the Spanish coche bomba, meaning car bomb). The town’s name was the most exciting part in an otherwise bland, westernised grid of streets surrounding a typical Latin American central plaza. It was filled with bland Sizzler and TGI Friday-style family restaurants, latino style, with funny names like “Dumbo” and “Globo”, which seemed immensely popular with the local, wealthy-looking inhabitants.

It was when we arrived in Santa Cruz that we began to notice stark differences between the highlands and eastern lowlands. Firstly, everyone we spoke to seemed a lot more laid back than their Andean counterparts. That’s not to say that people at bus stations, hostels and shops were any more competent than other Bolivians – there was the usual litany of mistakes at every turn. In total three separate hostels double-booked our rooms, and one even had to turn us away even though we had paid in full because they had nowhere else for us.

Toffee apple man

Santa Cruz, despite being Bolivia’s largest “city” with well over one million inhabitants, retains a cozy small-town feel in its bustling but relaxed centre. It did not have the chaotic, manic feel of La Paz, but the drivers were still mental and it was difficult to cross roads. There’s more diversity in this area of Bolivia than in the highlands, where indigenous Quechua and Aymara people dominate.

In the east, up to 10 per cent of the population is of foreign extraction, with groups from other South American nations, US and European expats and curious colonies of uber-religious German and Russian Mennonites. These oddballs get about in traditional garb, the women with scarves that look like the habits that nuns wear, aprons and flowered skirts. The men meanwhile dress like American trailer trash, with blue denim overalls, flannel shirts and high-peaked truck stop hats.

Samaipata

The city has some fairly fancy-looking neighbourhoods, with sprawling Spanish villas surrounded by razor-wire fencing and expensive cars trawling the streets. We spotted at least three Jaguars. But there are also a lot of homeless people on the central streets, toothless hawkers selling nick-nacks that no one wants and women with small children curled up on rugs and begging on street corners.

Santa Cruz is a nice place to walk around and hang out in for a day, but there’s not all that much to do here, so we headed to Samaipata, a beautiful colonial hamlet tucked into the surrounding foothills, for a few days. The town is a stone’s throw from the Amboro national park (which is a loose term given that people still live within its bounds).

Tree-fern love

If Santa Cruz is laid back. Samaipata is practically horizontal. Everyone knows everyone and it is very easy to find people. We ran into the people we had met at the hostel in Santa Cruz within a couple of hours of arriving, so we had a group to go on a hike with into the national park the next day.

Amboro Park was only set up in the 1970s, and it quickly became clear that hiving off a big chunk of land that was already used by local people for various purposes was not going to work. The government eventually allowed people back into sections of it, and cows are given virtually free reign through the lush primary rainforests that cover a row of mountains that face Samaipata and neighbouring towns. Still, the park is home to pumas, ocelots (small, leopard-like cats) and many bird species.

Cow-pats aside, it’s a great place to witness Bolivia’s incredible diversity, as you can hike up to the ridge line and pass through a number of completely different eco-systems. We started the hike on a creek bed surrounded by cacti and other desert-style scrub and walk up to where the forest starts, where there are acacia trees and other dry scrub with crackly bark and dry leaves.

Horsing around with Frank

As we ascended, we reached the point where the clouds hang over the forest, providing more moisture and humidity, which makes the canopy far thicker and means that shade-dwelling plants can thrive. Here, amazing giant tree ferns, some up to 10 metres in height, started popping up among the other trees. The forest floor was also covered with many types of smaller ferns, which reminded both Adam and I of hikes we did in New Zealand as children.

This wasn’t really a strenuous hike, as we stopped regularly to listen to explanations about the different types of trees, which ones had medicinal properties and general information about the local area by Frank, our eccentric German guide. 

Frank had the energy and of a small child, and enthusiastically explained all the amazing properties of ferns, how they reproduce by little leaf stubs unfurling (that we know in kiwi speak as the Koru) and charged his machete into the dead leaves that created compacted mounds after they fell to the forest floor. Also popular was the “cement tree,” that emitted a tough metallic noise when Frank tapped it with his machete.

Toucans

A highlight was seeing a group of four green toucans – which are notoriously difficult to spot in the wild – screeching and play-fighting in the tree tops. They were smaller than the other more common orange-beaked black toucan which I had seen at an animal refuge in Peru, with pointier beaks.

From the top of the ridge, we could see all the way along the tops of the mountains to another chain of hills behind, and peeked into the Amazon jungle that lay beyond it. Opposite the ridge was a totally pristine area that the government forbids access to, and on either side were hills used by farmers that had fields in a patchwork of colours. The sky was amazingly clear (often it is clouded over by farmers burning their fields), and the only clouds visible were ones that clung to forested hills a fair distance away.

Our time in Samaipata coincided with Bolivia’s independence day festivities. All week, schoolchildren had been marching around the main plaza with instruments and batons, practising their marches for the big parade. On the night, kids held cute upside-down five-pointed cellophane stars lit from the inside by candles in green, red and yellow, Bolivia’s national colours. 

Independence day merchandise on sale

 The musical skills of most of the kids left a little to be desired, but there was usually two or three kids that could hold the tune while the rest struggled to follow. It was cute to watch the smaller children taking their role in the parade really seriously, marching in time with the music with their knees high in the air, while the teenagers just rushed on through as quick as they could. There were also big cellophane floats made of the same colours in the shape of model aeroplanes and larger upside-down stars.

The temperature had shot up by at least 10 degrees when we returned via the bumpy, half-paved road to Santa Cruz, with gusty warm breezes blowing through town. Apparently the big fluctuations in temperature are due to northerly winds blowing down from the Amazon, alternating with southerlies coming straight off the Antarctic. It was great to have that warm balmy feeling in the evening after weeks in the chilly highlands. We stayed in a colonial guesthouse with a leafy courtyard and a pet toucan called Simon roaming around, whose giant orange beak was so big it looked like he would topple over.

Toucan Simon

Santa Cruz is our last stop in Bolivia. From here we are travelling by train across the low-lying savannah of the Pantanal and over the Brazilian border to a town called Corumba. This trip used to be known as the “death train,” but we have been assured that improvements have been made to the tracks, and that our 13-hour first-class service will be comfortable! But this is Bolivia so it’s anyone’s guess!

From the Brazilian border we will take a bus to the nearest big town, Campo Grande, and then fly across Brazil to the Atlantic coastal city of Salvador. Travelling overland to Brazil rather than flying straight to Salvador saves us hundreds of dollars, as airfares shoot up when you travel international in South America, but domestic flights are relatively cheap.