Before heading down to Rio, I took a boat out to the outcrop of land know as Morro de Sao Paolo, essentially an island as you arrive by boat and there are no cars about anywhere. It was so lovely here, reminding me so much of the islands in Thailand, nice beaches, palm trees and plenty of partying in the evening. The shallow waters were even HOT to stant in, mmmmmm. Because it was 26 hour ride to Rio from here I could only stay 1 day :o( poo...

More poo than that though, was that the air condition bus to Rio was fully booked so I had to go on the non A/C bus, no prob I thought, I´m pretty tough, I can hack it. Anyway there was hardly anyone on the bus, so I just set myself up by the wide open window and snoozed. Couple of hours into the trip, and old man, came to claim ´his´ window seat beside me. I told the attendant why couldn´t he sit in one of the other seats, I was being pretty rude, it was hot, I was sleepy, I didn´t understand what he was saying, he didn´t understand me,m and I ended up moving myself. Murphey´s law, 20 minutes down the road, the bus filled up completely and I had to go sit back beside the old man I had just been abusing. By this time it was blazzing midday, and my old man companion decided that having the window all the way open was not good for him, so slowly I began to melt, I was hot inside to out, maybe I was being microwaved... anyway I had to cope with this, so I put on some relaxing music, U2 and Santana, and tried to relax as much as possible, while occasionally sipping on my luke warm water. Fortunately or unfortunately the bus stopped every couple of hours, so I could get a cold drink or icecream and by 6pm the sun was starting to retire from its cooking job and welcome cool of evening signalled I´d made it through the worst of it. This meant for the next 18 hours all I needed to contend with was screaming babies and the frequent stops - ear plugs and eye mask made it bearable. The cloudy sky stopped the sun from trying to bake us in the bus again the following day and by midday I was in Rio de Janeiro. (Many weeks later when I told a native brazilian about my trip, he wanted to give me a certificate for having survived!)

Rio (pronounced Heeoo here); beaches, samba, carnival, shanty towns, beautiful people, party town. Its all here, and I tried to do as much as possible. You all know that I came here to dance in the carnival, so this was my first mission. I looked at the many costumes online and decided on one that although it was black and not brightly coloured had plenty of feathers and sparkly bits. Maha and Tatyana, from the hostel I was staying at in Copacabana decided to join me. The leader of the wing we were dancing in, sent out someone to deliver the costumes to us at the hostel. It cost us U$100 each. There were some problems with fitting, so they agreed to come back the next day. They never did come back, but Maha´s sister decided to join us too, and I had to get another costume, so we decided to go to them.

Tela was in charge of wing 22 and 24, her workshop was behind a run down property all boarded up. There was a big chain and lock on the gate, and I must admit we were pretty nervous going in there. But once at the back of the property we could see costumes everywhere and kids (late teens) sticking feathers and sequins everywhere. Magda (Maha´s sis) was getting anxious to get to the beach, when some guy dressed in a business suit came in and started demanding to know about the place for sale in the front of the property. Tela, tried to be polite to him, several times, saying good afternoon, good afternoon, then something I have to call ´latin woman temper´ came into effect and she let loose at him, screaming and spitting, a pair of scissors on hand, snarling teeth, she chased him from the property and continued to yell at him till he was well down the street! This is not the first time I have witnessed the rath of the Brazilian woman, I just wonder why it doesn´t earn them more respect from the male species... Magda decided after this, to wait patiently in the sun, and not give the lady a hard time about hurrying up so that she could get to the beach.

All costumed up, it was just a matter of attending one rehearsal - which was more of a party where they band practiced the song, and the dancers practiced samba, and I realised that if I have to dance that fast for more than a minute in the sambodrome I will actually faint from exhaustion. Worry sets in and I am now practicing every single day and listening to our song. Even though a few locals assure me I´m getting it, my friends assure me I still don´t look like anything close to the girls in g-strings.

Well I´m not in a g-string anyway, actually I have my bikini on underneath my costume ( not the new Rio bikini made of dental floss I bought to fit in on the beach here - but my black one to go with the costume - full ass cover ) on the way to the sambodrome to line up with my school, the first to go on on Sunday night, the first of the two big nights, it buckets with rain, no please no, Rio gets a wash. Miraculously though it stops. I can´t really explain how excited I am seeing everyone dressed up and all the floats. We found our group easily enough, some of them look a little bedraggled from the rain, but our plummage is still proud. The atmosphere is electric, everyone chatting, getting ready, there are not only sparkles on the costumes but in everyones eyes. We down a few beers and get to know those around us, then our song starts up, and we are ushered into line by those looking after the group. We start to slowly dance and wiggle down towards the sambodrome, my heart almost stopped beating when the first grandstand came into view, and I could see the 1000´s of people in the first block, waving and shouting and waiting for us to go through, there were TV camera about, then we were turning the corner and onto the stretch of concrete between grandstands and veiwing platforms known as the Sambodrome. The next half an hour was just a whir of dancing and singing, laughing, and smiling with so much glee, I could have burst right there into a rainbow of happiness. It was over way too soon, and we hung about a bit panting just to enjoy the atmosphere. See, dreams do come true.

The rest of my three weeks in Rio, I spent going dancing, to street parties, and lying on the beach when ever the weather permitted, and the odd tourist excursion for views of this amazing city. Plus one special trip to the Maracaná - the largest football stadium in the world - for the Rio final between Flamengo and Fluminense! I was in the Flamengo area and the atmosphere was amazing, there was drumming right throughout the game, with huge flags here and there, then massive banners unfurled over the crowd only to be whipped back again to endless chanting about killing and f@#*ing over the otherside. There were small kids and grandmas all yelling and screaming for their side. Unfortunately for me I had a drunk agressive a-hole come stand behind me, and at the first sniff of a goal he bounced all over the place flattening me and those around him, I decided that he could have my spot and moved up by my mates and out of the danger zone. It was a great game, each teaming scoring goal for goal till the final whistle of 3-2 to Flamengo, the atmosphere was wired, everyone high off their win and chanting and cheering for the rest of the evening, in buses, in cars, on the street, in bars, in homes, celebrations went on all night.

As much as I loved being in Rio, and partying in Rio, it was time to move on, see a bit more of Brazil before I move onto Argentina, get serious about travelling. A group of us went up to the resort town of Buzios for a couple of days, where I initiated the group into an old favourite of mine Shithead dares. The loser/shithead having to do one of the dares the rest of the players nominate, it is hilarious, and we had so much fun. Sunny days saw us out on a boat, drinking caipirinhas, swimming, playing about. Then down to Ilha Grande, a gorgeous island south of Rio, chilled out with brilliant beaches and good hiking, snorkeling, hand feeding fish, and fishing with a beer can, hand line, and nuts and bolt sinkers. Priceless.

Four days instead of 2 on Ilha Grande and I had to move on, down to Curatiba, where I took the scenic train ride out to the coast. Through tropical forest rich with flowers and butterflies, past overgrown, deserted and crumbling railway stations, then cutting away dramatically to reveal canyons and rolling valleys below, over high bridges and through rock tunnels, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip which combined a nature trip and adventure ride all in one.

The following adventure ride was on the bus down to Foz do Iguacu. It started out peacefully enough, I had two seats to myself and we even left on time at 9PM, so I settled in, listened to a bit of music then snuggled into my fleece/pillow to sleep. However somewhere in the night, either the bus driver did some speed to stay awake, or we switched to a Rubens Barichello impersonator - because OH MY - I awoke to be thrown from side to side in my seats, rolling off the front everytime he breaked - not that he was using the breaks often but when he did, it was at the very last minute and haaaaaaaarrd!!! My 10 hour bus trip ended up only taking 8! And deposited me at my final destination at 5AM instead of 7 which made it a bit awkward to go find my hostel.