Unfortunately our first impressions of Brazil were not too favourable, having arrived in the town of Foz do Iguaçu, a fairly boring place by any standards.
There’s a really weird absence of ATMs after 10pm, equal absence of restaurants, extortionate prices everywhere (you can add ‘money’ to my Christmas wishlist), and our desperately frustrating inability to communicate or even understand what’s going on most of the time. I didn’t even realise how much Spanish I knew until suddenly I find myself knowing nothing at all. And I suppose it was a little unfair that we came to Brazil so soon after leaving Argentina, which we loved and are sorely missing.
But! We did get to see the Iguazu Falls, which were of course amazing. Situated on the border between Brazil and Argentina, both sides have done an impressive job of taking visitors right into the thundering heart of it all. A network of logic-defying walkways take you across the tops of falls, along the edges of falls, and at a couple of incredible points, to the base of falls, where you’re drenched in the spray and deafened by the roar.
There’s something exhilarating about being so close to something so powerful, and the crashing fall of such an immense amount of water is truly awesome. And these falls are immense, stretching on further than we could have imagined, like Victoria Falls but hundreds of them – 257 of them apparently, though I can’t fathom how they count.
The only disappointment, when we visited, was that the walkway to the Devil’s Throat (a ‘U’ of waterfalls pouring themselves into a narrow and very misty corridor of river) was closed for repairs, and we were left gazing in wonder at a distant foggy mystery.
We visited both the Argentinean and Brazilian sides of the Iguazu Falls, spending a couple of nights in a shabby pousada in Foz do Iguaçu. Then we braved 28 hours on a bus to Brasilia, because that’s the way our route to Salvador worked out. Not because we thought we might enjoy Brasilia, but because we were curious and wanted to know what everyone’s been complaining about.
Disappointingly, Brasilia was not as futuristic and Brave New World as I’d been expecting (or hoping, because it would have been interesting) – it was built in the 60s, and the endless blocks of unadorned grey concrete give it away.
Still, the aeroplane-shaped street plan, coded addresses, and relentless symmetry are really very creepy. And it’s true that it doesn’t feel too people-friendly; the ten-lane traffic and deceptively vast distances between things make it a nightmare for a pedestrian.
As does the impossibly chaotic central bus terminal, with row after row of innumerable bus stands, each marked with mystic codes apparently meaning something to the thousands of queuing locals, but absolutely no clue or cipher or information desk for the uninitiated. With that, and the pelting rain, we chickened out and spent most of our time in the city’s popular shopping malls.
So again, no tears as we left Brasilia, and we were thrilled to board a flight to Salvador – which we can’t afford, but desperately wanted, because it’s a two-hour flight that would otherwise have been another 24-hour bus ride.
And now we are in Salvador, which is unlike anywhere else we’ve been to. It sort of feels like Jamaica. With a visible African cultural influence, it is vividly colourful, lively and noisy like an endless party. The downside is that it’s hard to blend in, and tourists get hassled more than anywhere we’ve seen before, so we’re still trying to learn to like it here.
