Amazon (not dot com)

The Amazon Rainforest

When I was originally thinking of going to the Amazon, I was preparing to rough it: hammock, mosquito net, washing in the river etc. But fortunately, I ended up going with my Dad, which meant staying at the lovely Analvihanas lodge on the Rio Negro in Brazil. Comfortable beds, air conditioning and most importantly, very few mosquitoes.

Rio Negro, with Anavilhanas Archipelago on the horizon

We did the three day/two night trip and we both agree that it was the perfect amount of time. We got to walk through the jungle, and paddle on canoes, and attempt to fish for piranha, and go wildlife spotting along the Anavilhanas archipelago at night. We even took a quick dip in the Rio Negro. The river originates in Columbia, and thanks to decaying vegetation, it is the color of dark coffee, and (as I found out accidentally) very sweet tasting.

Dad & I in the Rio Negro

The Rio Negro also doesn't support mosquito larvae very well, hence the blessedly bite-free trip. Well, bite-free on the mosquito front. During our walk in the jungle, a couple of ants crawled up my pants (American pants, not British pants, thank god) and took a nibble.

Bird-eating tarantula, bigger than my hand

It was the rainy season but luckily we only got drenched one day. We didn't see any of the big animals like anacondas or jaguars or tapirs, but we did see plenty of birds, a bunch of snakes and the odd spider.

Rainbow Boa in the trees

We also went to a place in the nearby town of Nova Airao where a local family feeds a pod of about 17 pink dolphins. (The town is apparently called "New"Airao because they had to evacuate the "old" Airao - about a hundred kilometers upstream - when the town was overrun with fire ants!).

While I would personally much rather see dolphins in the wild than begging for food, at least it gives tourists exposure to these beautiful animals. They make a poignant argument for the preservation of the Amazon rainforest.


Pink Dolphins in the Amazon from Tina Cone on Vimeo.

Nobody is quite sure how these guys ended up in the Amazon. One theory is that they originally migrated between the river and the Pacific Ocean (when the Amazon ran east to west), but got trapped when the Andes rose (and the river started flowing from west to east as it does now).

In Amazon legend, they can assume the form of a man, and like to show up at nearby parties, wearing hats to hide their blowholes, to seduce the local girls before returning to the river. It seems like a great excuse for an unexpected pregnancy - "the dolphin did it".

Amazonian Pink Dolphin

CARNIVAL!!

I did everything you should do when you go to Rio de Janeiro. I visited Jesus on the hill, I took the cable car up the Sugarloaf mountain, I walked along the Copacabana beach, I ate masses of delicious meat at Churrascarias and drank Brahma beer late into the night at outdoor bars. But there was one reason I desperately wanted to be in Rio last week specifically: Carnival.

And thanks to my Dad and his friend Anthony, there I was, in a box in the newly renovated Sambodromo on Sunday night. Seven different Samba schools competed that night, each with over three thousand dancers and at least six huge floats. Just a single samba school would take over an hour to complete their parade. It was the most flamboyant, most elaborate, most intoxicating thing I've ever seen.

Here's eight hours of those performances, condensed into less than four minutes.


Carnival in Rio from Tina Cone on Vimeo.

We arrived at the Sambodromo at 9pm. I had my final beer of the night watching the sunrise over Rio on Monday morning. It was a truly unforgettable experience.

ps. Incredibly, none of the samba schools that I saw on Sunday ended up taking home the championship this year. The winner paraded on Monday night.

Waterfall, don't ever change your ways...

The Iguazu Falls, a series of 275 waterfalls spanning Brazil & Argentina, are literally breathtaking. I peered into the Garganta del Diablo, or Devil's Throat, I got sprayed by standing on the precipices of smaller waterfalls, and then I took a boat underneath several of the waterfalls. A thoroughly brilliant experience, at least once my clothes dried out again!


Iguazu Falls from Tina Cone on Vimeo.

There used to be another impressive set of waterfalls in the area - the Guaira falls on the Brazilian Paraguayan border. But they were destroyed to make way for this:

The Itaipu dam. It produces a massive amount of electricity; only Three Gorges in China is bigger. Itaipu provides something like 90% of the electricity in Paraguay and 20% in Brazil (powering much, if not all, of Sao Paolo). But building it meant the destruction of thousands of homes, and the aforementioned waterfalls. I confess that even after visiting the dam, I remain somewhat ambivalent about it. I don't think you can compare the loss of rural villages and a natural wonder of the world with providing electricity for millions of people. Both are important, but I have no way to measure them against each other.

It was easier just to admire the wildlife that is still left.

And one of the best places to do that, was in the Parque das Aves by the Brazilian side of the falls.


Bird Park from Tina Cone on Vimeo.

On a more practical note...

When I was packing for this trip, I read dozens of websites for advice on what I should pack, and how much I should cart around with me versus how much I could buy along the way.

Here's an abbreviated list of what I ended up bringing in my 65L Eagle Creek backpack/daypack:

1 pair of hardy sandals (mortifying, considering I've spent 35 years making fun of Birkenstocks)

1 pair hardy trekking trainers/sneakers

3 ordinary T-shirts

1 T-shirt from Uniqlo with that heat technology

1 long sleeved shirt

2 bras (one sports)

8 pairs of pants (British pants not American)

5 pair of hiking socks

1 pair quick dying travel trousers

1 pair of jeans

1 pair of long johns 

1 fleece

1 woolen hoodie (thanks Nick!)

1 waterproof jacket

1 poncho

1 swim suit

1 sun dress

1 sarong

1 sleeping sheath

1 large & 1 small towel (both are those weird super thin quick drying towels)

1 foldable water bottle

1 money belt

1 roll of duct tape

1 waterproof backpack protector

1 tennis ball (to massage out aches and pains)

Toiletries etc (including toothbrush/paste, altitude medication, hairbrush, earplugs, padlock, flashlight, deodorant, bug repellent, tampax, iodine for water purification, burn cream, bandaids, small detergent, sink plug, ibuprofen, diarrhea pills etc etc)

Passports (UK & USA), photocopies of passports, two credit cards hidden in different locations, about $300 in cash (also hidden)

1 Mac book air

1 Canon video camera

1 Sony still camera

1 I-pod touch

1 Kindle

All the chargers and cords to go with the above

Three small notebooks (a diary, a journal and a general scribble book)

1 copy of South America on a shoestring

1 small spanish/english dictionary

So far, I have not had to use the sleeping sheath, the backpack protector, the towels, the water bottle, the purification tablets, the duct tape, the tennis ball or (thank god) any of the pills for various ailments barring the odd ibuprofen for a hangover. The laundry kit also remains unused, it's been easy enough in Chile & Argentina to drop off small loads at various laundromats.

I was very grateful for the poncho, waterproof windbreaker, long johns, fleece and hoodie in Patagonia and Tierra Del Fuego, and the macbook & I-pod & Kindle are brilliant, but by far the most useful items I packed were the smallest. The padlock, the flashlight and the earplugs (hostels have incredibly thin walls, and dorm-mates can be super noisy.)

The one thing I totally blanked on bringing, because I never wear them at home, were pajamas! So far, as previously mentioned, I've been combining long johns with a T-shirt when I sleep in dorms. I'm planning on picking up a cheap pair of leggings to remedy the situation. I'm also going to pick up some flip-flops, which are much easier to wear around hostels than sandals and which might provide protection in the shower.

I'm pretty sure almost everything else will come in handy at some point on this journey, especially once I get into Brazil, Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia, with all the different climates/water sources/possible maladies I'll encounter. Hopefully I'll have a more definitive list by the end of the trip of what worked for me if anyone else is thinking of spending a few months in South America.

And if you are thinking of such a trip, a quick warning. Everything has been WAY more expensive that the most recent travel books had me believe (my edition of South America on a Shoestring was published in March 2010). In Argentina, almost everything is nearly double what was listed and the bus prices have almost tripled. In many cases, it is only slightly more expensive to take a plane over a bus. Chile was never going to be cheap, but it was also much pricier than guidebook guidelines. And if you are traveling on a US or Canadian or Australian passport? You have to pay reciprocity fees to enter a lot of countries (because the US, Canadian, Australian governments charge Latin Americans when they enter the US, Canada or Australia). You'll probably need a visa for Brazil too. I'm lucky to have a UK passport, and I fortunately over-budgeted for this trip. But I've met a lot of travelers who are having to curtail their trips because everything is so much more expensive than they (or I) thought it would be.

Of Boredom, Bathrooms and Bashfulness

As of today, I've been in South America for a month, which is really hard to get my head around. Depending on what mood I'm in at any given moment, it seems like I've either been here forever or no time at all.

While I've seen some truly stunning things, and had some experiences that I will always cherish, this trip hasn't been all roses and sunshine. I promised several people back home that I would be honest about this experience, warts and all. So: cue the warts.

Of all the things I expected to feel on this journey, boredom wasn't one. In my more pompous moments (of which there have been many), I've dismissed boredom as a symptom of weak-mindedness. After all, if you're bored, doesn't that simply signify you're the boring one? That you're incapable of appreciating the moment? But as much as it chafes, I've been bored. I've been bored killing time waiting for the next bus, or sitting on a bus for day-long journeys, or waiting hours to check in to the hostel, or eating breakfast/lunch/dinner by myself. There is only so much journal-writing or book-reading or people-watching or coffee-drinking I can do before I'm bored. I'm bored, and then I feel guilty about being bored, and then I get bored by my guilty feelings... you get the picture. So the next time I'm up on my high horse waffling on about "boredom-as-a-state-of-mind", please remind me of this confession and knock me down.

Prior to this trip, the last time I shared a bedroom and bathroom with strangers was back in 1988 when I was eleven years old and newly arrived at boarding school. So I was pretty intimidated by the idea of sleeping in a hostel dorm. Where would I change? What should I sleep in? How would I wake up at 6:30 am to go on a trek without disturbing my new roommates? What about showering? I ended up googling "hostel etiquette" and then using common sense. If someone else was in the dorm, I changed in the toilet. I slept in a T-shirt and long johns. I set the alarm low and slept with my headset on so hopefully I would be the only one to hear it. I had quick five minute showers in the middle of the day when it was least busy.

Some of my fellow hostel dwellers are not so etiquette-obsessed. There was the couple in Puerto Madryn who liked to chat in our shared bathroom for about twenty minutes each morning before taking half-hour long showers. There was the roommate in El Calafate who regularly came in at 3 in the morning to continue the party in the dorm room until 5. And yesterday in Buenos Aires, there was the girl who snuck into the shared bathroom that wasn't on her floor, spent 45 minutes doing god knows what in there, and left it in such a disgusting state that I had to ask the poor hostel staff for a mop before I could shower. The only upside? Each horrible experience has made me even more determined to be as exemplary a temporary roommate as possible.

Finally, I never thought of myself as a shy person, but I've been surprised. It's been pretty damn intimidating walking up to strangers and introducing myself. I've only managed to do it a handful of times and even then, I feel like I'm intruding and that the other person/people must think I'm really needy. My rational mind knows that's probably not the case, knows that other people (travelers especially) are probably in the same boat and would like to meet other people, but for some reason, my instinctive reaction is not to bother anyone in case they reject me. When I have gussied up the courage to meet people, they've been absolutely lovely. I can't even count the number of friendly and fabulous people from all over the globe that I've met in just a month. Which makes my continued shyness especially frustrating - why can't I get over it when the rewards are so blazingly obvious?

Traveling by yourself has many merits (I'm on my own schedule for one), but it can also be really lonely. If you are with a partner or a friend, at least you know you always have someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone to get stranded with, someone to eat with, someone to take photos with you, or someone who can guard your bag etc. I am literally relying on the kindness of strangers and, no sugarcoating, it's been tough. Especially because I'm constantly having to translate language and currency in order to communicate. It can be exhausting.

But all told, I would much rather be down here struggling by myself, than not down here at all. I'm finally doing what I've been trying to do ever since university, and if some boredom, some frustration and some annoyance is the only price I have to pay? It's going to be worth it.

In Vino Veritas

Last year, while celebrating the great Sarah Muller's birthday, I drank the Brooklyn Winery out of  Malbec.

So I viewed my visit to the actual origin of such deliciousness as more of a pilgrimage than anything else. Accompanied by two fellow devotees from my hostel, I took the bus out to Maipu, just south of Mendoza, and picked up my trusty steed: a bicycle.

First stop: Vina Maria (which apparently doubles up as a B&B). Ignoring both the shocked face of the salesperson and the fact that it wasn't even noon yet, all three of us ordered two glasses of Malbec each.
Then it was back on the bikes to travel the short distance to La Rural, where we enjoyed another tasty Malbec - this time for free!
In the interests of variety, our next stop was a very chilled out beer garden on Mitre. Three pints apiece later, it was back to the vineyards.
Our next stop was Mevi. I branched out trying a Malbec Rose and a sweet white Torrontes wine as well as the Malbec.

By this time, we were slowing down on both the bikes and the boozing. Realizing that it was 5pm, and the bikes had to be back by 7pm, we only had time for one more vineyard: Tempus Alba. There, I once again tried a triple combo: a Sauvignon Blanc, a Syrah and of course, a Malbec.

All the wines were simply gorgeous. The Malbecs in particular. My only regret is that I couldn't squeeze a couple of bottles of wine in my rucksack for the road.

Cristal's by the bottle...

First, a quick hip-hop PSA: this is what you get when you order Cristal in Santiago.

You're welcome.

I was only in Chile's capital for two days but that was plenty of time to develop a serious crush on this gorgeous metropolis. I stayed at the Happy House Hostel in Barrio Brasil, an eclectic hostel in an equally eclectic spot. From there, it was easy to explore the city on foot.

Barrio Bellavista

First stop: Barrio Bellavista. After a quick wander around the neighborhood, I took a tour of La Chascona. Pablo Neruda built this house for his then-mistress and named it after her wild curly hair. Sadly, just days before Neruda died, Pinochet's soldiers trashed the house, burning his books and flooding many of the rooms. The library was reconstructed, but many of the current furnishings were moved from one of Neruda's other houses. It was terrible to stand in those rooms and realize how thuggish and short-sighted people can be, destroying a beautiful home belonging to one of Chile's greatest poets simply because he was a communist. And it is chilling to remember that such desecration happened so recently, just a few years before I was born.

The view from Cerro San Cristobal

From there, it was on to happier things. A ride up the funicular railway to the top of Cerro San Cristobal to see all of Santiago laid out before me. Then a quick stop at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes (museums are free on Sundays!) before visiting Cerro Santa Lucia. It was apparently a monastery, then a military bastion, and now it's a glorious park.

Cerro Santa Lucia

Too soon, it was time to leave. But what a way to leave! Eight hours on a bus crossing the Andes into Mendoza, Argentina. My soundtrack was the excellent Givers album "In light". "Up, Up Up" has never been more appropriate.

Crossing the Andes

Crossing the Andes

Chile con Coné

I was wondering why so many Chileans pronounced my last name with a bit of a grin.

Someone finally explained why.

ermmm...

Wikipedia tells me Coné is a comic book condor character created by Pepo in 1967. He has been delighting children (and apparently, people who look at my passport in Chile) ever since.

Freakish cartoon bird coincidence aside, Chile has been pretty fantastic. The only city I've visited so far that wasn't so great, was the university town of Valdivia. It was very pretty, but touristy.

Valdivia

My favorite place was the Feria Fluvial: an open air fish and seafood market on the river.

Feria Fluvial in Valdivia

Sea lions hung out there waiting for scraps. They got pretty damn close.

extreme close-up

My least favorite thing? The touristy schlock everywhere, including the sad sad sight of people dressed up as native Mapuche playing music from the soundtrack of Last of the Mohicans. If I had a do-over, I probably would skip Valdivia in favor of somewhere else in the Chilean or Argentinian Lake District. But unfortunately, I had no time to see anything else. One thing I'm very quickly realizing is that four months is not nearly long enough to see everything I want to see in South America. On the bright side, that means I have a good excuse to come back, right?

Tourist tchotchkes in the Mercado Municipal

Pining for the fjords

A sister ship passing us by

Per the suggestion of the fabulous Sara Benet, I just spent the last three days on board the Evangelistas Navimag Ferry, sailing through the chilean fjords from Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt. The trip was a little pricey, about $550 US dollars, but I was in one of the fancier cabins with its own bathroom that I shared with two other people. And the price included four nights on the ship and three meals a day, so I guess it evens out to roughly the same as a long weekend away.

The first leg of the trip was pretty eerie, just dozens of tiny islands shrouded in fog. Adding to the creep factor was an old shipwreck, abandoned in the water, covered with shrieking sea birds.

Fortunately there was plenty of booze to chase away any blues. The boat had a well-stocked bar, and a secret cocktail ingredient courtesy of one of the sights along the way: the Skua Glacier.

The bartender and a couple of hardy sailors motored out to that enormous ice field and returned with enough ice to keep us in pisco sours for the rest of the trip!

This guy knew what he was about. Glacier ice is freakin' delicious.

With drinks firmly in hand, the rest of the trip was spent either watching the wildlife - minke whales gorging themselves in the Golfo de Penas, dolphins frolicking off the bow, albatrosses following the ship -  or playing cards, chatting, dancing, even singing karaoke with new friends from Switzerland, England, Chile and Germany. A simply lovely way to travel.