Day 18: Don't cry for me

I can't believe I've come to Buenos Aires without ever watching Evita.

Determined to make up for this, Ian and I visit her grave, and the place she died, and the balcony where she made her famous speech (at the Casa Rosada, pictured), and the Eva Peron museum. Getting this close to the real thing sure beats seeing Madonna singing Andrew Lloyd Webber.

It's difficult to overestimate how much Evita means to this country. A comparison could be made with Princess Diana, although Eva Peron - despite never being a minister - had her hands on the levers of power. Like Diana, she died very young, aged 33.

THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Buenos Aires has the highest proportion of psychiatrists in the world

Day 17: First tango in (a city that's a bit like) Paris

Do tourists that come to Britain learn to Morris dance?

I've never tried the stick-bashing, but decided to spend my birthday, and my first day in Buenos Aires, learning to tango. Ian said it was just like sweeping up leaves with your feet. When in Brazil, we had both struggled with the samba, until he said that it was simply stamping on ants, so I considered him an authority. Sadly, our tango teacher Kristal disagreed and insisted there was some technique involved, after all.

I have video footage of our efforts but I'm having technical problems uploading any pics or videos. You have been spared.

THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Taxi drivers here watch TV while they drive

Day 16: No words

Day 15: One word

Wow!

The Iguacu waterfalls are so spectacular that words and pictures can't really do them justice. Let me just throw out some stats:

2km of waterfalls
175 in total
80m high
3,000 cubic metres of water go over every second
the largest hydroelectric power point on the planet generates 90% of Paraguay's electricity and 22% of Brazil's




THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
There are 175 waterfalls at Iguacu

Day 14: Adios, Rio. Sniff, sniff...

Next stop was Foz do Iguacu, with its spectacular waterfalls that straddle Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. Ian and I were joined by Neil, a pal who currently lives in Rio.

Our hostel was anything but spectacular. When you have to ask for pillows, soap and toilet paper, you know you're not in one of the finest establishments. Rumour has it even the Man in the Iron Mask refused to stay here.

It did have one thing going for it, however. There were no mosquitoes in our room.

They had more taste.

THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
In Brazil, Vicks Vapour-rub is pronounced "vicky vapor-roo-pee" (credit to Neil, who asked for it in a chemist. His theory is that Portuguese speakers have a problem with words ending in consonants. They also call Titanic "Tita-nee-kee)

Day 13: Big night out, big shoes

Watched possibly the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, on Ipanema beach, which was quite symbolic because it was our last night in Rio. We spent it at the Carnival Gay Ball, which entices the city's most flamboyant characters down its red carpet. Hundreds of people lined the barricades outside to see the costumes of arriving guests, and a Brazillian Davina McCall interviewed some of them for television. There was probably a power surge when we arrived, as everyone put their kettles on. Inside, there were some amazing outfits and a lot of fun people. The music was a strange mixture of live samba (including a song about big shoes) and cheesy wedding classics.

THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
The word lesbian in Portuguese literally means "big shoes"

MORE PICS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623353168361/show/

Day 12: Is life really a beach?

If Saturday was the day I fell in love with Rio, then Monday was the day I discovered the charms of her ill-reputed daughter, Copacabana. Despite its glamorous past, enticing Hollywood stars to its beach during the war and then being immortalised years later by Barry Manilow, few beaches have such a poor reputation. Sleazy, dangerous, dirty and tacky were some of the descriptions I read before we arrived. Imagine my disappointment to find out that in fact it lacked all those qualities.

Apart from a natural beauty I simply wasn't expecting, the first thing to strike me was how diverse its punters were.

Cross-dressers, families, favela kids, gay bears and pre-op, hormone-enhanced transexuals. And two pasty gringos. All sitting side by side, all shapes, sizes and colours, with no-one batting an eyelid at the kind of outfits that would cause a stampede on a British seaside. (Mind you, Brazil is a country in which the year's biggest event involves straight men dressing up as women, so hey...)

Despite this wonderful beach democracy, Brazil shouldn't be idealised. It is a country that appears to have no racial tension at all, yet there is a basic inequality that means if you're black or mixed race, then you will probably be born poor and remain that way for all of your life.

Later that day, as Ian and I hang-glided over Rio, we could see this social divide most clearly. The corrugated favela rooftops were glinting in the sun, some of these slums as populous as British cities, but nestled in hillsides behind some of South America's most exclusive beach addresses.



THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Brazil once had a royal family

Day 11: Saint Gilbert

If there is a patron saint of hangovers, he should be called Gilbert. Ian and I got up feeling a little fragile, although determined to visit one of Rio's most famous landmarks, Christ the Redeemer. But the thought of getting a train to the summit with hordes of other tourists was enough to make us dizzy.

Fortunately, our taxi driver Gilbert was sympathetic and agreed to take us near to the top in his car and wait for us to come down. We waited in the wrong queue but luckily Saint Gilbert was in the right queue on our behalf, getting our tickets. We spent longer than we intended up there, taking in the great views and bumping into friends we had made the night before, but Gilbert waited with the patience of, well, a saint.

If it was a day when we needed to be led by the hand, we encountered our second Brazilian worthy of canonization that night. We went to the Sambadrome to see the spectacular parade, and an elderly lady scooped us up as we emerged from the station, to safeguard us through the myriad of deprived streets that surround the stadium and lead us to our seats. Amazing woman. It was her 10th year flying in from the middle of Brazil to attend the parade.

There is no equivalent British event that so transfixes the nation as this. Imagine the X Factor Final, England playing in the World Cup and the Eurovision Song Contest, all rolled into one. And lasting eight hours. Yes. Eight hours. Too long for two tired young pups like us, we left at 3am. Notting Hill Carnival will never be the same again.



THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Very few Brazilians wears glasses, because they are considered unfashionable

MORE RIO SIGHTS PICS AND VIDEOS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623477333088/

PARADE PICS AND VIDEOS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623353111905/

Day 10: Love at first sight

This was a day when I saw everything, did everything and shook everything. An action-packed introduction to Rio, a city that I fell in love with during these 24 hours.

It started with a trip the four of us took up Sugar Loaf Mountain, to enjoy the amazing panoramic views of the city. Everywhere you look there are neighbourhoods on the beach, little inlets or mountainous forests. And on the right, the huge expanse of ocean. From here it resembles Sydney in some respects, but with huge hills, more greenery and, sadly, much more poverty.

That night Ian and I got our first taste of Carnival. Oh boy. We walked from our hotel on Copocabana to Ipanema, where there was a street party. There are hundreds of these so-called block parties during Carnival.

We were drawn to a bar on the fringes of the festivities, that had some older musicians playing samba drums. Imagine a Brazilian version of Buena Vista Social Club. The party here gathered momentum and soon everyone was dancing on the street outside, and even into the newspaper kiosk opposite. Everyone except Ian and I knew the words to all the songs, but we could "Ole" at the right time and we met lots of fun people.


Gary and Kleverson joined us later and Happy Birthday was sung to Ian in several languages, and at several points of the evening, depending in which part of the world the clocks were striking midnight. People tried to teach us to samba dance and we eventually got the hang of it, when Ian discovered that pretending to stamp on ants was the secret.

We had a bite to eat, the equivalent of a footballer´s half-time orange. Ian and I went back to the main street party, where we met loads of Brazilian gay men who were very charming and very topless. They were offended when we left the party at 4am. What a perfect day.

THING I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Spanish people say "patatas" when they take photos

RIO STREET PARTY PICS AND VIDEOS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623477480322/

Day Nine: Hola, Rio

Taken to the airport by tractor. Such is life here, it didn´t even surprise us. Airport is probably pushing its definition, more like an airstrip with an eight-seater plane to take us to the mainland. The airport terminal consisted of one room with a bench. There was a washing line outside. Whose washing, I will never know. Our onward journey to Rio was not without incident. Our shuttle bus broke down on a motorway so one couple flagged down a taxi, meaning all the cars behind it had to swerve around it. Rio looked fab in the drive to the hotel. It´s not the same one Madonna is staying in. Met Gary and Kleverson for a top meal in Cafe Zaza, Ipanema. I think I`m going to like Rio.

THINGS I DIDN´T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:

Some airports have washing lines

Flies get planes too

People hail taxis on motorways

Day Eight: Wet, wet, wet

Our first sunny morning, so we thought a boat trip around the island would be a great idea. Two hours later, we were shivering in the back of a speed boat, soaked through by a sudden thunderstorm. It was raining so hard, I know now how Gulliver felt when all those Lilliputians fired arrows at him. When we got back on dry land, another monster deluge turned the sandy streets into mudslides.

THING I DIDN´T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:

Rain hurts

Day Seven: Love Island

Canoodling on street corners. Snogging on the sand. Petting under the palm trees. Everywhere I look, youthful couples are joined at the jaw. It started at the ferry terminal, when two backpackers shared a 15-minute kiss outside the toilets, and now in the village of Morro de Sao Paulo, it's all around me.

As a true romantic, it does the heart good to see young romance blossom - and Latin lovers are famously passionate - but I had to put such distractions out of my head to concentrate on my first dive.

The sky was overcast and the sea choppy, so not great conditions. An Aussie described it, as only an Aussie can, as "shit-house". But for a first-timer like me it was very exciting. Saw coral reef and loads of fish, all sorts of colours, but I particularly liked these translucent ones with a purple stripe on their back. It's a new world to explore. And one where fish do it behind closed doors.

THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Germans say ´´cheese´` when they take photos
Bearded divers always get water in their masks

MORE PICS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623267909135/

Day Six: Land of the Wheelbarrows

Morro de Sao Paulo is a place where dressing up consists of wearing a T-shirt with sleeves. This village occupies the northern tip of Ihla de Tinhare, and instead of roads there are sandy tracks, in which wheelbarrows marked "taxi" perform the function of lorries, taking freight - toilet rolls, crates of lager, tourists' luggage - to the businesses around the village.

This keeps the natives incredibly fit, and given that most of the visitors are Brazilian, it means everyone seems to possess a bronzed set of abs. This is despite breakfast here consisting of three courses: fruit, bread and cake.

The unusual means of transport means the busiest man in the village is the wheelbarrow repair man, who has a pile of forlorn-looking wheelies stacked up outside his smithy.

I could go on about the beautiful beaches and great seafood (there hasn't been much sunshine) but I've heard it has snowed in the UK this week, so I wouldn't stoop so low. And besides, although you can derive much pleasure from such things, it's funny how my moments of utter contentment come in more unlikely experiences - handwashing the underwear, packing the rucksack, or exchanging a few words with a 10-year-old.

THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Pale English people glow on Brazilian beaches
Lying in a hammock is tiring

MORE PICS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623267909135/

Day Five: The Big Question

A three-hour ferry to Morro de Sao Paulo, on the car-free Ihla de Tinhare, gives me time to consider one of life's more profound questions. Why do people with rucksacks not talk to people with wheelie suitcases? Are they so very different species? Maybe this is the new divide, the next phase in man's age-old habit of taking one side or the other, with no dabbling beyond enemy lines. We've seen it with Strictly v X Factor, Macs v PCs and Blur v Oasis.

And on what side of this divide am I? I have a rucksack. With wheels. Which means I can talk to everyone.

Day Four: Salvador

Now Woolworths is defunct, where else could you find a Beyonce cushion, a lino and a series of Biggles books, all for sale under one roof? Only in Salvador.

We are most definitely not in Kansas any more, Toto. This city, once the capital of Brazil and the most important port in Latin America, erupts in technicolour on arrival, especially after the monochrome concrete of Sao Paulo, exciting as it was. The old part of Salvador, Pelourinho, is very pretty, with charming, colonial buildings, each a different colour from the last. But there is a sadness about their faded grandeur and tatty exteriors. And no wonder. This is a city built by African slaves. The word ´´Pelourinho´´ comes from the Portuguese for ´´pillory´´ and the original whipping post still stands as a reminder of how slaves were beaten to death in front of their brothers, as an example to others.


Today there are constant reminders of the deprivation in this city, where crack cocaine is a huge problem. Taxi drivers lock all the doors and instruct you not to open the windows, and there are police officers are stationed on every corner. But we never once felt threatened or uneasy, and will remember instead the colour and vibrancy that course through the streets. Everything is spontaneous here. Drumming bands in rehearsal for next week´s carnival are found around every corner. And we saw a stunning rendition of the African-Brazilian dance capoeira - these guys would clean up on So You Think You Can Dance.

THINGS I DIDN´T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
80% of murders in Brazil are crack-related
The Portuguese banned slavery 81 years after the British, in 1888, but it went on illegally till WWI
There is a Samba version of Rod Stewart´s Do You Think I´m Sexy

MORE PICS OF SALVADOR:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623370545792/

Day Three: Plane stupid

We left Sao Paulo wishing we had more time here, but eight hours later, we were in Salvador in northern Brazil, after flight cancellations and delays. The highlight of the journey was Ian boarding the wrong plane.

THINGS I DIDN´T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
People sometimes board the wrong plane

Day Two: Me, myself and 28m others

The sound of helicopters follow you in this city. Why? Because the rich prefer to fly by chopper than sit in the traffic jams. Ian and I had stupidly left our pilot licences at home so we took our chance on foot, led by our trusty guide, Kleverson. Although some of the buildings in this city are reminiscent of 1960s Croydon - and many of the old colonial beauties have been torn down - at street level you can feel the city´s energy and there is something that gets your attention on every corner. From a great height the views across its endless suburbs are breathtaking. There are between 20 and 28m people here, a stat that is hard to grasp. I expected Sao Paulo to bewilder me but instead it has been quite enchanting, even - and especially - in the loudest thunderstorm I have ever witnessed (which prompted an enterprising array of street traders offering waterproof ponchos). A terrific graffiti exhibition at the Museum of Art, for example, reflects the vitality of urban life here. It has helped that we´ve had Gary and Kleverson to warmly host and guide us. Every question answered...

THINGS I DIDN´T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Even the cleaners here have cleaners
Elderly get priority in all the queues
Laptops are called `lappy-toppies´
No-one ever looks good in a waterproof poncho

MORE PICS OF SAO PAULO:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623245215423/