Pauls Smashing Adventure !!

Recently voted as Brazils most liveable city, Florianopolis (or Floripa as it is more affectionately known) sits on the mainland side of the bridge that links the city to the magnificent Ilha de Santa Catarina.

An island largely invisible to the rest of the world until recently.

Paul and Tom.....two of my compadres during the rigours of Carnivale had visited the island prior to their Rio Experience and pronounced it variously "Bloody awesome mate" and "a splendid place to visit" being , as they are , from Melbourne and ( a graduate of ) Oxford respectively.

Floripa sits white, splendid and confident on the hillside like a good humoured custodian....keeping a relaxed but watchful eye on the increasing number of visitors to the island.

At a little over a million souls it ranks as Brazils 20th largest city . However its income per capita positions it as one of the Nations wealthiest and with the relaxed beach lifestyle , sweet, Mediterranean style climate and laid back inhabitants...whats not to like ?

The Ilha de Santa Catarina itself lies tethered to the mainland by the bridge leading to Florianopolis and is a popular tourist destination to the south of Brazil . In practical terms a two hour plane ride Via Sao Paulo from Rio. In terms of lifestyle and pressure however the two destinations could not be any further apart. Closer to Montevideo than Rio ,being here one gets the impression of being in an entirely different country. This impression is magnified by the fact that the local inhabitants, largely as a result of a large influx of Northern Europeans over the past Hundred years (mainly from Germany and Poland)....are often different in physical characteristics to the average man or woman in Rio. Mixing of races means that it is not uncommon to see an olive skinned person with Blue eyes........and there are certainly more individuals with Blonde hair !!

This difference is more pronounced in the female than the male. There appears to be a disproportionate number of Tall females....statuesque Amazonian women slimmer and less buxom than their Northern cousins yet no less strikingly beautiful.

The other difference engendered by this European element is that purely and simply...the beer is better ! The cold but unimpressive and bland beer brands of Rio give way to more European styled brews, usually sourced from a series of Boutique breweries in the Locale. It is possible to tour these breweries and sample their wares.......Loney planet recommends this......but Im afraid this will have to wait for my next visit !

I must confess however to enjoying a couple of Steins of a most agreeable Pilsener as I soaked up the peace of inactivity with sand between my toes and the sun dipping red and swollen over the edge of a darkening ocean.

Popular with the locals for many years...it has only been since the late 1970s that international visitors have begun to gradually discover its charms ,which include some majestic scenery ,excellent hiking to Pristine ,remote beaches......Fabulous fresh, delectable seafood and for the surfing enthusiast no less than 22 seperate surf beaches to choose from, and to the North of the island the correspondent Surf culture which render the area not dissimilar to the relaxed ,Bohemian Byron Bay on the East Coast of Australia.

There is also a series of huge sandhills close to Lagao de Concecau down which its is possible ( for the princely sum of Ten Dollars) to snowboard all day if you are a thrill seeker looking for a change from the surf !
Lagao de Concecau in particular is blessed with a number of excellent restaurants (the Sushi is to die for!) cafes and bars and much to my delight a very strong musical culture which made for some memorable evenings.
My favourite was the Brazilian Beatles cover band......regaling a delighted crowd at the "Black Swan" with versions of "I wanna hold your hand" and "Can't buy me love" in a heavy Portuguese accent.....priceless !!

One of the more attractive surf spots is the world renowned Barra De Lagoa....(a good 8km hike over the hills from The Lagoa de Concecau .....a laid back Bohemian town at which I spent the second week of my time On Catarina)......often known as the"Bunny Slope" of Surfing. It is home to world champion Jacqueline Silva and a couple of clicks from Praia Mole which has played host to the WCT Surfing Championships on several occasions . Barra da Lagoa is a quaint fisherman's village but the physical characteristics of the beach make it the perfect place to learn to surf with a small but reliable swell.

It was disappointing , therefore that I only discovered this spot near the end of my stay on the island as I would loved to have had a crack at improving my almost non existent skills in this regard. Skills which would have been useful on my return to the sparkling surf of my home town of Sydney.

The beach is popular here with families and couples as well as surfers and gets quite crowded on the weekend with its string of surf side seafood restaurants and shops selling surf gear and beach clothing (Havaianas....being Brazilian are plentiful and cheap) . For those in search of a wholesome snack the beach stalls selling ice cold coconut water sipped from a freshly opened fruit or piping hot corn on the cob brushed with butter and salt are very popular and inexpensive....which meant that I enjoyed their wares on several occasions.

Beach football....and by football In South America (with the exception of the Argentinian Rugby team) we are referring to the round ball contest..... is very prevalent here and played not only casually but with an organised series of league competitions.
It is amazing to watch the skills of the Brazilian locals as they play the beautiful game on this soft surface and I enjoyed several games with the sun at my back.

There was also a volleyball competition.......yes the Brazilians enjoy their sport ! In fact as a nation the fitness culture is pretty well entrenched. There are a disproportionate number of beautiful bodies here.....and with the male of the species ,more six packs than Dan Murphy!

However there are two sides to this island....whereas the Surf spots of the North are vibrant and buzzing the southern area of the island is the direct opposite.

My modus operandi had been to get as far away from the Carnavale madness as possible and chill out and gather my resources for Lisbon....my next Port of call.

With this in mind I selected Pantano de Sul (A fishing village in the remote southern corner of the island where the most exciting thing to happen in the daily schedule is the return of the fishermen late afternoon with the fruits of their pescatorial prowess) as my destination .

One of the peculiarities about this island is that wherever you want to travel to usually necessitates a change of buses ..and in my case two buses on the day of my arrival from Rio when I was negotiating the 35 km trip from the Floripa airport to Pantano. This is because each town is only serviced by one of three main bus stations on the island. It really gets quite complex to plan a bus trip,particularly as no one seems to speak English here .

The buses have turnstiles as well...so the idea is you pay your fare and negotiate the turnstile....travel to the bus station which services your destination, disembark and await one of the infrequent Charabancs which go there .If you happen to be a fully laden backpacker (complete with recently purchased travel guitar ) you may well , like myself find these turnstiles and bus changes something of a challenge...particularly if ,as was the case with me you are operating under the influence of recent sleep deprivation as a result of your exertions at Carnivale in Rio.

It was after dark when I finally arrived at what i thought was Pantano de Sul..I had actually travelled one stop too far...and found myself...laden with my luggage In the dark streets of an even more remote village than Pantano. I did not realise this until the bus had left ( This being the end of the line and with no guarantee of additional transport that evening).

Someone must have been watching over me as three Young Argentinian men.....staying at a hostel in this village.......stopped their old Ford to ask if I was OK?
When hearing of my destination they very kindly offered to deliver me.......and despite being somewhat imbued with distrust following my Rio experiences I accepted their offer . Five kilometres back down the road these young men had restored my faith in human nature...and being fluent in English (definitely the exception to the rule in this part of the world). They were able to accept my offer of a cold beer the next day to repay them for their kindness.

The beach here is not a surf beach..it is a sheltered bay where small fishing sculls lay at anchor when not in use.......however the outlook is spectacular...the water crystal clear and eminently swimmable and with a westerly aspect and a fabulously photogenic sunset it is a great place to relax, knock off a couple of novels and jog on the beach.Which is essentially what I did for a week!
There is only one public computer in town also..which hardly ever seemed to be available ,which meant that devoid of my currently pilfered I phone I was essentially out of cyber communication for a week........which was a strange feeling...but somehow liberating.

There are several hamlets like this to the South of the Island where the lure of 21st century consumerism has been resisted with vigour,and life here goes on very much as it must have done in the 18th Century. Their determination to escape the evil tentacles of the English language have been equally vigorous and I basically spent a week here gesticulating to get my meaning across....being almost entirely deficient in the Portuguese native tongue.

There is one restaurant in town however, "The Arante", which stands out ..not only because you wouldn't expect to find a restaurant of this stature it in a hamlet so small and remote,nor would you expect cuisine of the quality turned out by the chef,but also because of the nature of the Decor,which is quite unlike anything I have seen before.
Basically every inch of available wall space seems to be covered in hand written notes...........over 100,000 notes left by visitors since the early 1970s...when the early surfing visitors...before the days of easy communication used to leave notice at this watering hole of their expected whereabouts on a given date.

Over the years these notes have become more creative....in all different languages....and it is entertaining to spend an hour simply reading them. In fact a book has been written capturing some of the more remarkable I shall post the link when I track it down.

I added my own humble contribution....left notes for my loved ones if they ever make it to this corner of the world...and whilst they may not have been amongst the most creative they were certainly heart felt.

So there you have it.....Ilha de Santa Catarina..............a sparkling jewel of a destination ,an island of contrasts and a wonderful place to recuperate and recharge my batteries before my next stop....Portugal !

For me the words "Barcelona" and "Antoni Gaudi" will be forever synonymous. There is no other city on the planet where the architectural signature of a man figures so strongly.
A little research reveals that his personality mirrored closely the eccentricity and quirkiness of his creations.
As a young man he was very much the dandy.....overtly flashy and confident. In his latter years he is reputed to have been the diametrical opposite...often being mistaken for a tramp as he supervised work on his final project the soaring and majestic Sagrada Familia , a structure combining Gothic and curvilinear Art Nouveau forms with a brilliance that is awe inspiring.

The project was commenced in 1863....and was only a quarter completed at the time of his death in 1926.
Construction continues to this day.....interrupted on occasion by the fact that it is entirely funded by public donations. Amazing!!There was also the small matter of the Spanish civil war which held things up a little. Completion is scheduled for 2026....the anniversary of the mans death ...which adds a nice symmetry.

It may say a little about the urgency of the Spanish building trade...but that would be a cruel suggestion !!

I'm no expert on architecture....far from it.......I have seen some magnificent and beautiful buildings during my recent circuit around the planet but I will never forget my first glimpse of Gaudis meisterwerk as I made my way down the Avenida de Gaudi graced at its Northern end by another Gaudi creation. The Hospital de St Paul.
Its hard to describe the intricacy and detail of some of these buildings but ceramics, wrought iron and impossibly curved stonework immediately remind the observer who designed them.

When handing him his degree, Elies Rogent, director of the Barcelona School of architecture is reputed to have said: "We have given this academic title either to a fool or a genius. Time will show."

From my perspective the latter undoubtedly holds true.

But there is more to Barcelona than Antoni Gaudi and If I had arrived in Lisbon with no expectations and no preconceptions of what i might find, then my arrival in Barcelona was disproportionately laden with them.....

Having heard much regarding the resplendent tree lined elegance of Europes favourite boulevarde ,Las Ramblas.Moreover the splendour of The Passage de Gracia stunningly blessed with sublime architecture , including some of Gaudis most intricate and eccentric works ......(as well as one of the finest seafood restaurants at which it has been my pleasure to dine....Fishop....best sushi on the planet) it is hard not expect something special.

Barcelona does not disappoint.

For the on foot explorer the city is an absolute delight....the Tapas is amazing (probably no surprise)....and the coffee ....mmmmm the coffee.......probably edging out Lisbon in the excellence of preperation in most of the cafes I chose to sit and watch the world go by.
The public transport is excellent moreover and the subway ranks highly on my league table of subterranean transportation in the cities I have visited. For the tourist in a hurry the designers were able to cleverly create an awesomely functional metro system delivering one to each point of interest with flawless efficiency.

I have found that travelling on the Subway...Metro...Subte...Underground of whatever city I happen to be in has proven to be an excellent yardstick in an assessment of the particular genetic blueprint and intrinsic style of the people of the city of wherever I happen to be and it struck me whilst travelling on the green line from the north of the city where I was staying at "the Garden Hostel" (Highly recommended).....just how elegant and genetically gifted this race of people is. Its hard not to be intimidated by just how attractive they all seem to be.

Now at the risk alienating some of my British friends!!

When travelling on the Underground in London for example...as I have recently.....one becomes conscious of what a ragged mixed bag of races inhabit my nations capital. Don't get me wrong....Integration and the benefits of a cosmopolitan society is in itself a good thing...but when you fish out the overseas visitors and the expat Europeans the British residue is "chequered" to say the least.....and I can say that because I am indeed British..
Now Im not saying the British are a nation of Ugly Buggers........after all me and Jude Law are both from Blighty........but when in Barcelona its difficult not to be impressed by the talents of the Celestial engineer who seems to have been having a particularly good day when he was putting together the men and women of Barcelona.

Like much of Europe Spain is doing it tough in GFC terms....but it doesn't seem to get them down......and everyone wants to come to Australia....a seeming constant throughout my travels.

Another refreshing thing is that Spain seems remarkably untouched by the outstretched palm of American popular culture...and with the exception of Macdonalds Barcelona is deliciously and determinedly Spanish.

Other "Must sees" for the visitor to Barcelona listed in no particular order.....The Plaza Catalunya...at the opposite end of Las Ramblas to the Port.....the Gothic quarter......The Placa Real (home to the wrought iron lamposts which were Gaudi's first commission for the city). The fountains of Mont Juic (go and see them at night when they are beautifully and artfully illuminated and synchronised with the music).
Barca....probably the best club side on the planet....(I'm so upset my visit didn't coincide with a home game).

Finally...there is a restaurant down by the beach known as the 7 Portes. they serve the best paella in town......but what I liked about it most was the fact that it has been a favourite haunt of many luminaries through the years........if you look closely there are small brass plaques identifying the favoured seats of the likes of Dali and Picasso....and more recently Lou Reed and Yoko Ono.

So there you have it....Barcelona......love it.......get there if you can.

Next stop Blighty !!

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The most enduring memory of my two weeks in the Argentinian Capital will always be the quality time I was able to spend with Sandy .... My eldest son , who is currently ensconced in Palermo .... A Bohemian and elegant suburb adjacent to the Ritzy Recoleta (the site of Eva Perons tomb) and to the north west of downtown Buenos Aires.

Like many districts of the city, Palermo is renowned for its night life, with numerous high quality cafes , restaurants and bars..... Perfect I guess in terms of work prospects for a young man with a wealth of expertise in the hospitality industry .
In the same way as myself, but on a much grander scale ,Sandy had been touring around South America ,taking in Chile ,Bolivia ,Uruguay, Columbia, Brazil and Peru along the way.

He has decided to put down some roots ( at least temporarily) in sunny Buenos Aires .....Initially landing a job managing a local American owned bar with the distinctly non Latin name of "The Office"..... and rapidly approaching an eloquence and proficiency with that distinctly Buenos Aires version of the Spanish language spoken by the Portenos (inhabitants of the Port of BA), of which I had been informed and was later to discover entirely accurate during my time in Barcelona.

Living and working in a country is by far the most efficient way to achieve mastery of a language , particularly when you are working in hospitality where you have to speak the local lingo or you will sink without trace. He has also reinforced this practical experience with regular one on one tuition...so good on yer son .

At the time of writing...yes literally today..... it is Sandy's 27th Birthday...and the first on which he has not been able to take advantage of the Australian public holiday.....tough luck mate. He has also just landed a new job in Sales and with a beautiful Argentinian girlfriend by his side and having just joined a local football team things look sweet for my boy. Happy birthday son.

But what of the Argentinian capital? !!

Buenos Aires is a big , arrogant ,dirty sweet blockbuster of a city and the most quintessentially "Latin American " metropolis of those I have visited so far, whilst at the same time maintaining a distinctly European flavour largely on account of the character of its architecture......... but also because the inhabitants consider themselves to be more European than South American in terms of their sophistication relative to their neighbours.

Definitely not for the faint hearted ,B.A is party central.......this city pulsates ,rocks and knocks you for six and with purportedly more night clubs per head of population than any other country on the planet the nocturnal reveller will find more than enough to keep himself occupied during a steamy Buenos Aires night.

Indeed , in much the same way as every other South American town or city I have visited nothing really starts to get going until late in the evening and continues full swing until the early hours. Great training for my Brazilian experience which followed hard on the heels of my time here. It is not unusual for example to see a family with school age children consuming their evening meal at midnight.

I think I said "Steamy" earlier !

The words Buenos Aires have a literal translation of "good Air" and this leaves me a little bemused to say the least......for my general impression during the time I spent in the Argentinian capital was that it was...to say the least...a little "close".
Less generous commentators might characterise the climate here in February as being stupefyingly hot and humid...and heck Id have to agree with them.

So you would think the citizens would be prepared for these particularly hot humid conditions.

This may well be the case with the majority of the populace. However....I was to find to my chagrin that this does not appear to be the case when it comes to the City's Taxi drivers. For a kick off air conditioning appears to be an alien concept in a BA taxi......but probably more annoying was the fact that even though a taxi here is relatively inexpensive in comparison to Australia...there appears to be no guarantee that you are going to arrive at your destination.....and not once...not twice...but three times I was the hapless passenger in a taxi that overheated and broke down midway through my journey. Leaving the taxi driver cursing at his errant vehicle ( a little like the scene in Fawlty Towers where John Cleese gives his broken down mini a "damn good thrashing") and leaving myself stranded and sweatily trying to flag down a replacement. Not an uncommon occurrence I am led to believe.
On the positive side however , the taxi drivers are a font of valuable information when it comes to the most interesting and worthwhile city destinations. Like most Portenos they are inordinately proud of their city .....for example at least four natives informed me of the fact that the Avenida 9 De Julio (Its name commemorates Argentina's Independence Day, July 9, 1816). Is, at 110 metres wide and with nine lanes of traffic in each direction the worlds most expansive city thoroughfare. What they failed to mention is that it also takes at least ten minutes to cross on foot.

At its central point is the notoriously phallic obelisk which provides an excellent reference point for the on foot explorer and marks the centre of the downtown business district.....where the relative strength of the Australian dollar in contrast with the weaker Peso makes for some excellent shopping.Nearby is the quirky and brilliant statue of Don Quixote tilting at windmills.It also runs through the impressive Plaza de La Republica...another must see for the visitor here.

As a general impression I found the people here to be initially cool with foreigners..as if there is a wariness and distrust which then warms to a keen interest.
Given the current situation surrounding the Malvinas/Falklands (more of that later) I was careful to accentuate The Australian side of my dual nationality..."G'Day Mate" rather than "How are you my good man" was definitely the way to go ....and it certainly seems that our jewelled shores are a prized destination for the people here........

As in most cities I have visited I have made good use of the public transport system and whilst the Subte of this city is undoubtedly efficient ,and like Mexico unbelievably cheap it could certainly do with a facelift...much like other areas of the capital.

Having just come from Santiago...a city on the crest of a wave financially and buoyant with the impetus and confidence generated by a healthy economy, the contrasts with BA are quite poignant. In the Chilean capital the burgeoning economy and correspondent civic pride seem to have a cleansing effect ......well in terms of litter and dog droppings ! In Buenos Aires it seems quite normal and accepted to discard whatever disposable item you happen to have whether it be a newspaper, bottle , cigarette or whatever on the street. Sandy made a point that it is so endemic and accepted that you could drop litter at the foot of a policeman and he wouldn't admonish or even bat an eyelid. I elected not to test the theory however.

It does get hot here...and the truth be told occasionally a little bit smelly.....mainly because the canine population.......unlike their Chilean cousins are not as particular as to where they deposit their droppings....or maybe the Portenos are a little more reluctant to take care of them than their cousins in Santiago. Whichever way you choose to look at it....that ...and the inordinate amounts of litter that seem to plague the city are , in my humble opinion ,suggestive of a deeper malaise largely generated by the GFC and the corresponding declinine of the Peso in global financial trading.

Whereas Santiago shines like a new pin Buenos Aires is a noble rusty old sword

One commercial activity however which appears to be flourishing is the "oldest profession".......I could write a whole book about the blatancy of the "Love for Sale" marketing ploys in many of the countries I have visited. In BA whilst it is illegal for the touts to hand out advertising material, every lamppost, telephone box and window lintel is plastered with tear off pictures with telephone numbers and addresses resplendent with an image of some ample Argentinian female derriere ! An interesting fact is that these discarded leaflets represent at least 50 percent of the litter that I mentioned earlier.

Yet somehow, and Im not quite sure of the reason.....this city remains breathtakingly beautiful in most of the areas I was able to visit, for example whilst Graffiti is a widespread...it somehow seems to fit in with the character of the place.....artfully and tastefully contributing to the overall palette.

This is strongly apparent in the fashionable suburb of St Telmo......where I stayed during my time in the city.
The architecture here is amazing. Elegant tasteful and largely Italianate and I spent a whole day exploring the area.

Of particular note is the Plaza Dorrigo, site of the very popular weekend antiques market) and a perfect place to while away an hour or two on a sunny afternoon, nursing a cool drink, whilst being entertained by the exponents of that most famous Buenos Aires art form...The Tango..........which has its roots in the Boca (translated as "mouth"...and in this case of the Rio De La Plata) one of the oldest suburbs of the city and home to the famous Boca Juniors. ( More of my experiences of Argentinian football culture in my next instalment!)

It was on that day that it struck me that, not only St Telmo...but the whole city, has a strong parallel with Keith Richards.......A man whom I admire for his incredible ability to simply survive despite the rigours to which his body has been subject ! Yes I know...bear with me !!

Keith has often been described as being "elegantly wasted"...... a phrase which could have been designed for St Telmo in particular. He also gives the impression that he's stuck in a time warp when he utters words such as "The chicks still dig me man" . That's Buenos Aires....stuck in a time warp......and dreaming of glories past. A little like a champion bullfighter....still wearing the same costume he wore in his early twenties ,resplendent then...but faded and slightly ill fitting as middle age approaches.

Tellingly the most popular and prominent national figures continue to be Eva Peron (Her image looking down across the city from two sides of the tallest building along the Avenida 9 de Julio....and Diego Maradona. Figures from a bygone age and somehow a symbol of the yearning on the part of the 21st century Porteno for a return to days of yore when this port was an elegant prosperous powerhouse.

He certainly carries the swagger that is missing from his Chilean counterpart in Santiago and an elegance that is missing from his Brazilian neighbours but your average inhabitant of BA is seemingly happy to bask in glories past without really knowing how to fix the issues to hand.

As it happens my time in Argentina has coincided with a renewed focus on the part of the Argentinian people on the Malvinas islands...or the Falkland Islands as we British call them...the conflict around which during the early 1980s did much to set in stone the legend of the "Iron lady" Margaret Thatcher. Relations with the Britain since that time have been Lukewarm to say the least... frosty would probably be a more apt description...... Recently tensions have intensified and the Argentinian President Cristina Kirchner has begun to fan the flames of anti British sentiment....rapidly gaining favour and status amongst the people for her own "iron lady" like stance on the Malvinas issue.

In my opinion it's a little like Argentina ruling the Isle of Wight......I don't believe this is about the rights of a few rich Falkland Islanders to remain British (rich enough already)...its about oil.....I say relinquish British rights....let them have their oil and use some of the proceeds to restore an already beautiful city to its earlier glories.

Since the early eighties the Argentinians have taken their revenge on the football field.........noone wants hostilities to extend beyond this benign environment so hopefully diplomacy will win out.

So if you fancy a quick shufty into what its like to live Like a Latino and haven't much time to tour South America... if you like to party hard...you think that sleep is overrated....and you're a lover of succulent Beef....( a friend alerted me to a blog where the author had relished his steak so much he wanted to cut it in half ...take it home and use it as a pillow so he could lick it during the night). Get yourself to Buenos Aires.

Flying in to the Portuguese capital the casual observer could be forgiven for thinking that at first sight , the place looks ...well...somewhat bland !

This (entirely false) impression explicable by the fact that from the air most buildings seem to be homogeneously crafted from the same greyish, white building material, and the overall impression is a little dull ! ...On the ground nothing could be further from the truth.

Up close, the building material turns out to be the rare Lioz limestone......a local product sitting somewhere between the more porous limestone of Northern England and the marble from which the better heeled amongst us fashion our swanky kitchen work surfaces...and rather like a blank canvas to the talented artist, provides a fitting backdrop to the colour,style and pizazz of this exciting city.

One of the first things that struck me is that every pavement and open public square in Lisbon is intricately paved with this beautiful stone...and one of the cities more memorable and appealing signatures are its wonderful cobblestones.

Architecturally and aesthetically Lisbon turns out to be an undiscovered gem and from my own perspective made all the more gratifying by the fact that prior to my visit ,I had rarely given Lisbon (or Portugal) more than a passing thought...and If I had these were undeveloped thoughts related to football ( Eusebio..Cristiano Ronaldo.....Benfica)...alcoholic beverages (Port....Vino Verde) ,erstwhile pioneering explorers ( Vasco da Gama et al ) and whether or not the Algarve was a viable alternative to the Greek islands in my "twenty something" travel plans.

Arriving in the country as a mature man (at least in years) and with a travellers eye sharpened by two months of new experiences, I have been more than delighted.....for around each corner in Lisbon is a new adventure , a new delight , and on foot exploration of the city ( as well as utilisation of the excellent and efficient public transport system) is its own reward..

It is also one of the worlds most ancient cities...predating London and Paris by hundreds of years and a melting pot of history that has included periods of domination by both the Germans ,Romans French and the Moors ,each leaving behind their particular architectural signature and contributing to a wonderful melting pot of building styles.

Lisbon is the Westernmost Capital City in Europe.....brazenly challenging the vast expanse of the Atlantic ocean before it like a question mark and whilst this may be a romantic notion ,it is easy to visualise a young Vasco Da Gama on the banks of the majestic River Tagus squinting into the westering sun and dreaming of lands yet to be discovered.
I have nothing but admiration for these early explorers....true pioneers in the spirit of adventure and it is no surprise therefore that there is an immense sense of pride on the part of the Portuguese people for this sparkling maritime tradition.

Whilst Santiago Chile is redolent of a new financial confidence and prosperity ,the ancient city of Lisbon reeks of "old money" ..... and let me tell you there must have been an abundance of the stuff back when Portugal ruled the waves...How could there not have been when the city is replete with such ornate and graceful architecture on such a grand scale?...... and whilst Portugal may be currently grappling with the ravages of the GFC...when in the ancient and beautiful Barrio of Belem in the shadow of its famous tower with the magnificent Monastery of Geronimo not far away, one can almost hear the wind in the white sails of the galleons in which Vasco de Gama and his colleagues set sail centuries ago to lay claim to half the planet and generate a cash bonanza in trade and commerce which would fuel the expansion of the nation for centuries......

One of the countries discovered by Da gama and colonised by the Portuguese is Brazil. By design the country immediately preceding Portugal on my RTW itinerary . There are obvious links between the two countries...the most intriguing being that at the beginning of the 19th century when Napoleon Bonaparte seized power in the city the King and Queen of Portugal suffered self imposed exile in South America and the seat of Portuguese government switched from Lisbon to Rio...a fascinating turn of events which Im fairly confident hasn't happened before or since!! and whilst there are some similarities (language being the most obvious)...culturally these countries are worlds apart.

It has to be said that whilst I enjoyed the frenetic new world energy of Brazil....my inital impression on arriving at my hostel in the classy and artistic Barrio Alto....which clings to one of the seven hills on which Lisbon is built ,was just how "old school" classy and very "European" this place is and significantly ,after several weeks in the coffee wilderness of South America........(sounds strange doesnt it because a significant portion of world coffee production is from there...but they cant make an espresso to save themselves)...Imagine the bliss when finding excellent espresso available seemingly at every street corner.

The next day I was to discover the perfect accompaniment to aforementioned coffee in the shape of the most agreeably delicious Custard tarts it has ever been my pleasure to inhale...Now.... coming from the North of England .....no sluggard in the production of excellent custard tarts itself...this is a rare accolade......but here is one thing you must not miss whilst in Lisbon....a custard tart...dressed with Cinnamon and Icing sugar...washed down with perfect espresso...and preferably from the celebrated "Pastis de Belem".... a much frequented cafe in the suburb of the same name.......Compulsory.

One of the passions in which I have indulged in every city I have visited is that of football....more specifically as a spectator to this magnificent sport...and probably the best game I have attended on my travels is Benfica versus Zenit in a Champions league quarter finals qualifier in the awe inspiring Estadio Da Luz.........60,000 passionate fans cheering their team (and my team for the evening...sorry dad it did necessitate wearing Red and White colours) to victory over the visiting Russians.

This really did give me some insight into the Portuguese People on my first night in the country.....not only because of their passion for the sport...but in the laid back, good natured fashion they indulge that passion.. Travelling back to Barrio Alto later that night the banter of the people...(though in a language I have great difficulty understanding) gave me the impression of a race of laid back individuals not dissimilar to the people of Australia. This was further reinforced during my stay....and in conversation with several of the young Portuguese staff at my hostel ( a very interesting building overlooking The Castle of St George across the valley which used to be the Swedish embassy).....we concluded that this must be the case because of the similarities in the climate...quite possibly.....since the climate is not dissimilar to my old stamping ground , Adelaide , and I was blessed with balmy temperatures throughout my visit.

This is also an extremely attractive race of people......obesity seems to be virtually absent..despite the quantity of food consumed by the populace . The Portuguese male is much more likely to be handsome than not ( girls check out the Portuguese football team... I rest my case!)and the female population are extremely attractive creatures...in general not as "comely" or buxom as your Brazilian or your Argentinian senorita ..(indeed the average height of the Portuguese lady seems to be greater than her south American counterpart) but with a calm ,almost regal grace.....cascading chestnut hair framing aquiline features and bewitching smiles....( steady Paul ..youre starting to sound like a fella who has been away from home too long !!).

It has to be said that leaving Portugal I was thinking that it would be a hard act to follow....and as I skipped across the Iberian peninsula from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.....I was to find that act..in the shape of the city of Barcelona.

There is a line from the play "Charley's aunt" by Brandon Thomas that has resonated with me since childhood ..........This being when Charlie Wykeham speaks of his relative , Donna Lucia d'Alvadorez ,as being " from Brazil .... Where the nuts come from !!!!!"

Well ! Indeed !

Always attractive .... This sentence assumed epic clarity during the six days of mind numbing frenzy....endless samba driven backside jiggling......shameless hedonistic endeavour....and plain wall to wall party madness.... Unpuctuated by any semblance of rest.... That is Carnivale in Rio de Janeiro.

This is, my friend...where the nuts come from !

Moreover, it is not only in Rio that Carnivale takes over : indeed the whole country succumbs to Carnivale lunacy during the six days of the festival.....It is ,however ,only in Rio De Janeiro that Carnivale is celebrated and crystallised on such a grand ,energetic scale ,with round the clock dancing ,singing, carousing....and very often stimulation by various illicit substances to keep the whole juggernaut rolling for six days and nights without respite.

Be assured, ye who have not been privy to this event that the saying "slow and steady wins the race" simply does not apply....for whilst sleep may take you in its blissful embrace variously during this six day party....this vast river of celebration continues unabated...round the clock for the entire festival....ready at any time for the visiting reveller to jump right back in.

It seems somehow incongruous that Carnivale is actually the Latin way of preparing for Lent......that 40 day period of self imposed abstinence which is supposed to mirror Christs 40 day period of fasting and self examination in the wilderness..... and I'm sure that given the deeply Catholic leanings of this country for some individuals at least this significance is retained ! For the vast majority however it's just a huge opportunity to party hard.

The secular way of marking this religious calendar event in Britain and Australia is to eat pancakes on Shrove Tuesday......In hindsight this custom might be considered slightly conservative considering that the Brazilian way is to assemble 10 million participants from around the world (many Rio natives...having seen this all before willingly escape the madness by heading out of town) in the unashamed pursuit of fun .

The next step is to clad said participants in the compulsory crazy garb...... (Everyone wears a costume of some description ranging from the flamboyantly expensive and glamorous costumes on display at the official sambadrome parades to the simple addition of a novelty item...usually a hat ....to ones wardrobe ).

My modest contribution to this vibrant and remarkable pastiche was a pirates hat red bandana and an eye patch ....which accoutrement was eventually rejected in favour of the much needed benefits of twenty twenty vision .It has to be said that I felt somewhat guilty given the planning and effort that had gone into most of the costumes on display around the clock......all ages ...children...dogs...everyone seemingly digs out the cossies and gets into the swing of things.

Maybe its the fact of my British heritage and stiff upper lip...as I'm not normally shy and reserved....but strangely enough most of the British and Australian participants in Carnivale ,whilst enthusiastic observers don't seem to have the appropriate party credentials to look good doing the samba.
Obviously there are exceptions to this rule...but as Tom....an Oxford graduate sharing my digs at the Rio Hostel was heard to intone " I wish I could .....but I cant seem to bring myself to let go and dance in the street ".

Obviously...whilst the City of Rio is extremely well planned and prepared for this onslaught of humanity......some things slip through the cracks......and in the sea of "Antarctica" beer cans and through the palpable odour of urine that descends upon the entire city as the toilet facilities are tested to their limits and eventually fail ( I have never seen so many people ...of both sexes openly urinating in the street) the reality of poverty and the ugly face of humanity rear their heads like the double headed Carnivale monster they undoubtedly are.

It is difficult to comprehend the number of people literally sleeping in the gutter.....not because of any over indulgence in most cases...but because this is their natural habitat......consigned to sleeping in a sea of beer cans , cigarette butts and flowing urine whilst the rest of party hard and snuggle down between freshly laundered sheets when it all becomes too much.

With this as a backdrop , therefore it hardly seems surprising that crime...particularly pickpocketing and petty theft become a reality that is the rule rather than the exception.

I was the victim on two occasions of being relieved of personal items...which incidents I am about to relate..and in a fresh spirit of looking at the world from a positive standpoint will endeavour to imbue these incidents with a positive slant.

Firstly my I phone !!! Myself and Paul ,a fellow Australian staying at the Rio Hostel in St Theresa were attending the opening procession of Carnivale and I was excitedly capturing some of the color and eccentricity with my apple device.... This obviously made me a target, since bitter experience would eventually inform me that standing too close to the vanguard of a procession ... To get a better look, is pure follly ... Putting you firmly in the path of the "I phone pick pocket detail" who seek to utilize the passage of the procession and the consequent press and loss of balance as an opportunity to relieve you of your connection to the outside world.

Surprisingly they didn't take my wallet !! Which would have has more far reaching implications..... however four people within a couple of meters of myself suffered a similar fate.

The sight of four people within a couple of meters of one another scrabbling in the gutter in search of their lost phones brought home to me what had actually happened ... Yet caught in the throng and with nowhere to go ... At least until the procession had passed.... All you can do is shrug your shoulders and marvel at the professionalism of the thieves .

Fortunately I insured the phone ahead of my trip... And I guess that's what insurance is for.

The second incident was on the final Night of Carnivale...... It was 1am in the morning and I had ventured from the hostel to the street to soak up the madness in Lapa one final time.....

I was aware of a completely different vibe.... The drunkenness of the populace was the sad drunkenness of several days of excess taking its toll and sharpening the atmosphere with a sad brooding malevolence which was palpable . The exhortations of the drug salesmen .... "cocaine hash Marijuana you try... Good blow" became almost frenetic and insistent to the point of being threatening . Similarly the approaches of the professional ladies of the district became more persistent ..... Not because of my wit and charm but because the commercial window of opportunity afforded by the festival was rapidly closing and by the looks of things some quotas had not been achieved .

I was approached by a Brazilian lady of a certain age ... Accompanied by a ring of dirty henchmen.... My white shirt and blonde/ white hair made me stand out I guess and for this lady I became a target .... She began to hurl profanities and obscenities at me from 15 m . And whilst my Portuguese is weak to say the least the vehemence of her outpouring whilst unintelligible to me left nothing to the imagination ... And even in the midst of the crowd I felt that bitter flow of adrenaline that tells you something is wrong...

Soon she was screaming right in my face and whilst she might have only been five foot 3 or so I felt the violence in her explode as she pushed me backwards with both hands simultaneously striking my shoulders..... Not knowing what to do ,I stood my ground and this is when she reached for my neck..... Grasped the chain and Argentinian peso which hung there and ripped it away.... She then held it up in front of my face with a blank evil stare and a gurgle of laughter which spread to her henchmen..... All of them poised for me to challenge her for its return.

I had purchased the chain at Ipanema markets for 10 reals so it was a cheap bauble ..... Had it been an item of some personal significance I might have pushed back for its return.... As it was I held up my hands.... Turned on my heels and legged it back to the refuge of the hostel.

I had heard tales of similar incidents where the individual trying to retrieve the item had been viciously beaten .... And in the case of one unlucky French photographer only three days previously lhad lost his life because he had refused to surrender his camera. So on this occasion discretion as opposed to valour was definitely the order of the day.

My Mate John Cowles captured it succinctly when he said ...." dont worry Paul think of it as a direct tax on those rich enough to attend carnivale .....going directly to the poor"... I do hope this is actually the case.

All told I dont think I really saw the real Rio.....the romantic Rio of Carmen Miranda.....the Rio that inspired Mike Nesmith to pen the words " Its only a whimsical notion to fly down to Rio tonight"....

I did catch a fleeting glimpse on my final day there before I moved down the coast....somehow within the space of twelve hours the beer cans had been removed....the urine washed away and the undoubtedly beautiful city of Rio emerged ,like a butterfly from its chrysalis, from beneath its blanket of party revellers.....

Thus revealed I could finally see the golden sands of Ipanema and Copacabana....glimpse Christ the redeemer presiding famously over the city from his mountain home and Sugar loaf mountain breathed a sigh of relief unburdened by its constant procession of tourists.

Brazil is a wonderful place...as I was to discover in surf country down the coast......with great people,fantastic food and an unbeatable climate.

Carnivale is not the real Rio....but Crikey...its one hell of a shindig !

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