Gatwick - for the leaving of London...01 October 2004 18:30
Well here we go, "Lloyds´", a particularly nasty Wetherspoon´s outlet, one to beat all others. Yup, it´s Gatwick Airport, deepest Surrey, and I´m surrounded by the cream of the home counties, already making acquaintances and passing passes. It´s all in a days preparation for the "boys behaving badly" tour of Tenerife.
Weekend out of the city13 November 2004
Still searching for some wheels, but at least I´ve done my research about what I can and cannot do, about what I do and don´t need. Hopefully the rumours that I cannot actually exit the country with a vehicle registered in my name will prove bogus.
Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, a once thriving city with the relics still scattered around - battered vintage cars and decaying grand colonial buildings. I hesitate, because I don't want to offend anyone, but I find it sad, and any comparison to Buenos Aires, I find odd. Poverty is in more evidence than in BA, and the people seem sad and downtrodden in comparison to the bright, savvy but gentle Portenos.
Well, I have been in corresondence with a Danish guy, Robin, who brought a Canadian bike down from Canada in a mere 6 months We both agreed that it is probably better to buy and sell in Montevideo, as the problems with exiting the country and the paperwork in general are likely to be less heinous.
A bad day!!!, but also a good one in that I reached my target destination, and in one piece...
The night was spent in a Brazilian love shack, somewhere you can rent by the hour. I have resolved to return one day in order to stay-in, and photograph Brazil's "motels", for they are weird, wonderful and some of them damned luxurious! On this occasion, the privacy afforded meant a complete lack of windows, secluded garaging, (a plus!), and a very seedy atmosphere.
There was some interesting stuff on the box that evening, as well...
Although I have spent 2 months in Argentina, 6 weeks of those learning Castellano, I have seen little of the country, but Buenos Aires I know pretty well now, and love. I have been trying to buy a bike, but they are expensive and the paperwork arduous.
I'm still reflecting on the city, and the idea of putting all these thoughts I have about the place on the blog seems a tricky at the moment...
Classmates & profesora...
Rosanna y Eugenia...
The benefits of an early start. I could have taken a handful of wonderful pictures, that morning...
The drivers in Rio are the craziest yet. I witnessed my first accident within minutes of arriving in Copacabana. They treat the roads of the city as a race track, which is ok if you know where you are going. I didn't.
The beaches of Copocabana and Ipanema are undoubtedly beautiful, but normal by Brazilian standards. The city is expensive, and well...overrated. I guess as a week's clubbing package it's quite good.
Managed egress surprisingly easily.
Bahia - mile upon mile of white sand and swaying coco palms...
It was at this point that I realised that I had no lights, (I had not planned on riding at night, anyway ), so I decided my best means of defence was to tailgate a lorry. This proved a horrendous experience as we overtook crawling lorries, and faster moving ones sweeping downhill, inches from me, all the time spiralling, cornering, cornering with the constant smell of burning brakes filling my helmet and the hydraulic screams filling my ears, all the time, darker and darker - no moon.
I have seen many facets of Brazilian life. In fact, Brazil appears to me as many countries depending on the perspective you have at a given moment in time. This country is fascinating and as diverse as the races that inhabit it, that is not to say it is not rascist, as some people will have you believe: generally, the whites have the money, the blacks don't, 'social' division runs deep, and wealth nestles alongside poverty everywhere.Ponta Negra...
'Jeri' is a pin-prick of a place on the Northern shores of Brasil. I headed there because it sounded like a convenient stopping over point on the long haul between Fortalezea and Belem. As so often happens in Brasil, if you get road signs they are plentiful, too numerous until a crucial point, like an intersection, when they diasappear altogether giving no clue to the next move. every direction sought is contradicted by the next, and instructions are vague.
For some reason, I feel like singing "Gilda is a Punk Rocker". It is true that hours and hours spent sitting on a bike watching the road slide beneath you can have strange effects. This is one of them, but I feel it unlikely that Gilda was a Punk Rocker by virtue of her birthplace, (Fortaleza). However, she is of the correct age, dies her hair jet black, calls herself "Sheriff" or "Witch", probably rides a broomstick, is seldom sober and would have made a rather good Punk, I feel.
Santareme
My neighbour
The main attraction in town
Marcos risking all for the perfect sunset photgraph
An unexpected highlight was crossing the 120 km stretch through the Waimiri Reserve, a little way short of the Equator en route to Boa Vista. A lot of Brazilian countryside is disappointing. Obviously, the areas in proximity to roads are the first to be settled, and native vegetation makes way for the ubiquitous beef cattle. In other areas, particularly where sugar cane is grown, the sides of the road are constantly on fire, making for a spectacular display when riding at night - lorries swerve to avoid the flames, in fear that their cargoes will catch alight.
