Salt Touched

What to say about Rio during Carnival…

Well, the biggest, most famous street party in the world? Is 2 parts awesome and 1 part absolutely terrifying. Seriously, you have never seen anything like this. The fun part about Carnival is that it’s – apparently – just a party for the sake of a party; and it is one huge party.

Of course, a lot of people go to the Sambadrome – a huge all night dance parade that clamours through until 7am with – as far as I know – no breaks. But the Sambadrome is not the only party, in fact many would say it’s not even the real party. The real Carnival is in the streets. Huge block parties with massive moving stages that draw the crowd with them along the beaches, their thumping bassline rattling windows and ribcages alike. It is an amazing experience.

Our first day in Rio we didn’t do any of the big parties. Instead, we went to Sugarloaf Mountain, because I had never been there. It was a cloudy day, but the view from the top was still breathtaking, especially when Christ The Redeemer just peeked out of the clouds in the distance, looking for all the world like a floating totem pole in the heavens. The Redeemer was not in the cards for us this trip – since we had both been there before and there was only one crew tour being offered. We have found we usually do better exploring on our own. And exploring was easier this time, because in a very rare turn of events Amras actually had several days off in a row (trust me, that does not happen often) so we had no actual deadline to work around. On the way down from Sugar Loaf we encountered the “Museum of Illusion” which gleefully dragged Amras into to shoot pictures of being abducted by aliens and trapped within giant glass bottles (have to love perspective!) before loading back into our waiting cab and making our way back to the ship to pick up what we would need for the rest of the night (we were booked into a hotel for the evening).

Now, there’s something to be said for trying to get around during Carnival: it is insane. Roads closed, traffic backed up – and even when the roads are open? They are clogged with people. A few blocks from the ship the cab crawled nearly to a halt and we were surrounded by…people. Not angry people, not a frightening mob, people…who were happy. Probably more than slightly drunk…but happy. People kissing in the streets, wearing feathers or dressed as Greek gods. This is not the kind of traffic jam you will ever see anywhere else.

As it turns out there was a massive gay carnival parade being hosted in the warehouse right next to the ship..which I imagine at least some people onboard weren’t quite prepared for.

As for us, we were in a hotel on Barra beach, which – when we arrived – did have a swinging block party practically underneath our balcony (which did not do good things for my headache at the time) but they wrapped up much earlier than we expected and left us with a quiet evening with nothing but the huge breakers rolling in on the beach.

And a pool that had no one in it. When I was little I never understood why my Mum always insisted on swimming only in the evening when we travelled. Little me didn’t quite get the concept of “quiet”. I get it now. There is something incredibly peaceful about being the only one in the water, barely making a ripple as you move back and forth. That pool, that evening swim, was worth the whole weekend.

The next morning we walked Copacabana. Now…this may be one of the most famous beaches in the world – but this time of year? It’s also one of the busiest. You can’t see the famous patterned sidewalk for all the people, souvenir sellers and sand art set up on top of it. The beach itself was actually fairly empty – and we found out why fairly early on. Those same breakers that had been rolling in on Barra beach? Also make themselves known here. We were standing at the back edge of the beach, nearly up against the raised wall of the sidewalk , when suddenly Amras yelps at me to jump…I managed to save the shoulder bag that had all our gear in it (as well as Applejack, who prefers not to get wet), but didn’t quite manage to save myself from the huge breaker that rolled in and soaked me to the knees.

The amusing thing is that if I had somehow jumped and landed in the other direction, I would have landed on the glass full of squished limes that was on the wall next to us…so I still would have been wet, but I would have smelled like lime juice…

That probably would have been okay too.

Carnival is a fascinating slice of humanity, Amras and I speak about five words of portragese between us (water, check please and thank you being the only ones that I know), so it was only on rare occasions that we could understand what was being said around us. But you don’t need to. You just kind of…take it in. The drums are everywhere and they mix with the sound of the water and the rhythm of people’s feet on the sidewalk and where else do you see people of all stripes dancing in the street anyway?

When we finally got back to the ship on the final afternoon I was amazed to find out that there were people who were complaining about having been here during Carnival. Now, I will admit that there were parts of this weekend that did not go as planned…but Carnival itself is not something I complained about, people dream about experiencing something like this.

Rio may not be my favourite city, and sure – it’s not Buenos Aires with it’s history and its tango shows…but it is an experience…and one that, overall, I am still very grateful to have the chance to check off my list.

Of all the odd ports we visit, I’ve always had a soft spot for the Falkland Islands. Hotly disputed for over a century (Argentina still lays claim to them) they remain a little piece of Britain in the middle of the northern ocean. It’s rainy and cold and everything is priced in pounds, but it …feels like home. Not Canada home, not really (although the coastline has the same familiar scent as the beach across from our house), but England still holds a very close place in my heart despite my having not set foot there in nearly 12 years. It feels nice to touch that particular base once in a while.

Anyway.

The other thing it is home to is penguins. Lots and lots of penguins. Last time I went through a cruise like this I didn’t get a single wildlife photo, this time we hopped on the shuttle to Gypsy Cove and wandered through the trials there – where there are not only penguins there were baby penguins. Little fuzzy fluffballs looking sleepily up from the side of the path, under the caring eye of a park worker, wondering why exactly they were being disturbed. They are everywhere. At one point you actually had to be careful not to step on one of the little floofs!

It’s peaceful at Gypsy Cove, there’s very little to obstruct the constant breeze coming off of the water, and there’s very little noise except for the sound the sea birds. It’s a good place to think; and I have a lot of reason to think lately.

Once we were finished cooing over the adorable-ness of the world’s most well known flightless bird, we headed back into town for real fish and chips. And also the chance to buy proper British chocolate (there is a difference between American Cadbury and UK Cadbury I swear!) and mail postcards. Postcards are a new hobby that Amras and I have taken up, as it occurred to us that no one seems to get interesting real mail anymore. Now, whether or not any of the ones we have sent actually reach their destination remains to be seen, but at least we’ve tried!

And now, it is onwards towards Argentina.

And at what feels like long last, we have reached the skirts of Antarctica.

There is no describing Antarctica, not really; it’s a place that defies finding words even for the best of us. Everything here is clearer, crisper – here we are the interlopers, we are the visitors, we are the ones that do not belong. The air is cold enough that it seems to almost burn your lungs at the same time that it completely clears out your head and leaves you incapable of…thinking anything except how vast the world around you really is.

And the…silence. You can hear the thrum of the engines of course, and there will always be a certain amount of noise whenever there are people gathered in any kind of group. But over all, the world feels…tranquil. The ship moves very slowly through this space, so you can actually hear the lap of the waves against the bottom of the ice.

The last time I was here I had a pocket camera and I was totally ill prepared. I didn’t see a single animal. This time, I have an SLR with a (granted relatively short) telephoto lense. This time, I’m as ready as I can be.

But the truth is, you don’t know where to point your lense in the first place. Do you look at the towering glaciers? The mountains? The fields of pink – yes pink – snow? Or at the leopard seal that’s just waking up sleepy eyed from its nap on an iceberg sliding past the edge of the ship.

Where do you even start?

There is ice here that has been untouched by anyone for thousands of years. The ghosts of abandoned research station still dot the coastlines, frozen in time as though their residents are somehow going to return for their gear all these years later.

The white lady holds many many secrets in her cold heart, and I doubt we will ever know all of them.

A ship like ours does not reach her heart, we don’t even get as far as the Antarctic Circle, but we should count ourselves blessed to even be able to glide along her edges.

Peru is not necessarily what you expect it to be. Well, unless you’ve been there before and you expect it to be a little dodgy, a little dirty and involve a lot of very long bus rides (oh so many bus rides). It’s also a great place to get really cool handy crafts, but the only llama you’ll see unless you go on tour are the super fluffy toy alpacas that they sell at the markets (I now own one of those, three seasons in South America, I developed a sudden need for a fluffy llama in my life.)

The buses we’ve been trundling back and forth on to various markets of all sizes in the last few days have waded through tight and busy streets surrounded by buildings that in some ways reminded me strongly of the landscapes I see in the post-apocalyptic video games that Amras and I play; all fallen brick and browned white-wash. Even the patches of green -while well cared for – look dusty and somehow neglected under the grey-washed sky. It’s sobering really, because as you’re sitting there bored on the bus, you can’t help but realize that this is the way the vast majority of the world lives – in this dusty, somehow sorrowful, unfinished feeling state.

We are so so lucky.

Of course, after several days of doing nothing but riding buses through what felt like nowhere to what felt like nowhere, if we didn’t see something of actual interest soon we were going to go a little bit crazy.

One of the most amazing sites that you can see in Peru without having to take a tour inland (in which case the obvious choice would be Maachu Picchu), is the Candelabra. Carved into the hardened soil of the hillside just outside the harbor to General St Martin, it soars over 800ft high and bears a sharp resemblance to the world famous Nazca Lines. Historical theorists claim that it was carved as a marker for sailors as early as the year 200BC, but no one is really sure that it isn’t older than that, and no one is 100% sure that that was it’s original purpose. Like the Nazca Lines, it remains one of the earth’s mysteries. When you see it on the wall (and it’s not actually that easy to spot at first), it reminds you a little of giant child’s drawing, as if some alien toddler got loose with the family lazer-pen and decided to scribble on some walls.

It was…breath-taking.

Sometimes, you are just going about your life, and you can be completely bored and blah about everything and something unexpected comes along and makes you realize just how awe-inspiring the world can really be.