Popped Idols

We’re starting to get the hang of Canadian TV channels. We’ve found that American Idol is on three times a week and we’re hooked. We don’t have to worry about what to watch once the series finishes as they are doing auditions for Canadian Idol right now. We’ll let you know how we get on doing our duet.

Spat’ll Teach You

Back in Ottawa we went to the supermarket called Loblaws (or Sloblaws as I like to call it). Sarah had slept for most of the journey home (see photos) and was in a hyper mood. When she’s like this she likes to tease me by pinching my bottom because it makes me jump and dance about. I was trying really hard to hold a laugh in, but I couldn’t and as it burst it I managed to spit in Sarah’s face as I was laughing so much!

P.S. Sarah would like our regular readers to know that the scar on her bottom has gone.

N'Ice Hotel

After visiting Quebec City, we drove half an hour out of the city to the Ice Hotel. We’d only expected bedrooms made of ice, but the hotel had two bars, a disco, two ice sculpture art exhibitions and a chapel. There was a wedding taking place when we arrived! The hotel also had outdoor jacuzzis and a sauna, but these were not made of ice. We walked around the hotel rooms and just tried to take it in that we’d be sleeping on one of the ice block beds in a couple of hours.

An ice hotel takes 4-6 weeks to make and last until the temperature stays above zero continuously for 10 days and nights, usually around the end of March. There are only two ice hotels in World. We’ll let you find out where the other is.

We were given a tutorial on how to use our Winter rated sleeping bags and then had our complimentary cocktail, served in a glass made of ice, naturally. Then it was time for bed. Sarah was worried about the cold so I tucked her into her sleeping bag first. I made sure I did the hood up good and tight. Well we were told to so the warmth didn’t escape. Sarah looked so cute. Then I sorted myself out. It was a strange night. It took a while for our body heat to warm the sleeping bags, but our feet were freezing the whole night. Sarah had two pairs of socks on too, one of which was my thermal pair. We woke up several times in the night because a cold patch would work though the bag or our face would get cold. Sarah had an ice head ache when woke up. It was like an ice cream headache but worse. It had been –15C over night!

We made it through the night though and were proud that we had. That pride disappeared soon after though. On the way to breakfast we met the French guy who’d given us our briefing on using sleeping bags. I puffed out my chest and told him how we’d stayed the whole night in the ice room. Then I tried to embarrass the guy a bit and suggested that he got to sleep in the chateau attached to the ice hotel. “NON! I sleep every night outside in the hills behind the chateau. I love to be under the stars.” Yeah, I bet Frenchie eats his snails raw too.

We had breakfast at the chateau. We could have had a room at the chateau if we’d found the ice hotel too cold. Hmmm, maybe that would have been a good idea. After breakfast we realised that Sarah had lost her gloves. They must have been in her sleeping bag, but when we went back to look for them, the room had been emptied and the staff didn’t find them when they cleaned the bags.

We had a walk around and onto the lake and saw people fishing through the ice and some people on skidoos. Then we drove back home.

L'Oiseau Tôt

We were up at 6.30am this morning for the 5-hour drive to Quebec City. We didn’t have a map of the route but we weren’t worried as the directions seemed easy enough: stay on the 417 for 2 hours then turn left at Montreal. We stopped at Tim Horton’s for a coffee and a doughnut on the way. Tim Horton’s is a Canadian institution. There are Starbucks and other coffee houses here, but I don’t know how they get customers because Tim Horton’s tastes just as good and is a third of the price.

When we got to Quebec City we had no idea where to head for so when we saw a quaint street all done up for Christmas (we think they just leave the decorations for as long as the snow is around) we parked up. The street turned out to be in lower Quebec City, the first area of the city to be settled. There were lots of antique shops and restaurants. We decided on having a big meal now as we didn’t want to pay hotel prices in the evening. I like to try new foods and I’ve never had snails before. My stomach was feeling robust so I ordered the garlic snail starter. They weren’t as slimy as I’d expected and with a lot of garlic and olive on the taste was disguised.

After lunch we walked to the quayside of the St. Lawrence River and watched the (small) icebergs floating along. Back in the lower town we found a mural of the founders of Quebec City. We then got the funicular to upper Quebec City and looked around Parliament Hill (being French they have to have their own government) and the Chateau Fontenac, which is the green roofed building you’ll have seen if you’ve ever seen a picture of Quebec City.

Oh, the name Quebec comes from the Indian (I don’t know which tribe) word Kebec meaning where the river narrows. Don’t say we’re not informative on this blog!

Puck'in Car

Ok, so it's the same pun as previously, but more appropriate for this message.

We'd noticed that living in Romford had made us very impatient and we swore a lot more than we used to. I think that living in Ottawa is going to be good for us as everyone is a lot more relaxed here and they're very helpful. We've noticed that we hadn't sworn since we arrived here. That was until we picked up our air hockey table from the department store. The table is 1.5m by 0.75m. We've got a family sized hire car so you'd imagine that it would be simple to fit the table in the car. Oh now. Not with these smart American cars that don't let you put the rear seats down. Sigh. The department store employee was very helpful and held the table for us while I fumbled with the seats trying to put them down. Once I realised the seats didn't go down, we put the table in the boot. It stuck out, but we tied the boot shut and padded around the table. Only to find that the damn automatic car had a safety feature and wouldn't start with the boot open (or so I thought). The stores-man helped us remove the table and I found that if we put both front seats as far back as they would go then we could just slide the table over Sarah's seat and I'd still be able to drive. This had only taken half an hour in the freezing cold. Grrr. And the car wouldn't start! I didn't understand what was wrong and it took a frustrating five minutes before I realised that I'd slipped the automatic gear stick out of the park setting and THAT is why the car wasn't starting now AND why it hadn't started with the table in the boot!

What the puck?

We looked round some apartments at the weekend and this has made us realise that when we move we’ll have to buy quite a bit of furniture. Sarah and I walked into town this evening to change a pair of shoes I’d bought at the weekend and to have a hot chocolate and we had a serious conversation about what our budget should be. We had a lengthy chat about curtains, dining room table and chairs, tv and dvds. The list was adding up and we were solemn about having to spend lots of money.

We’d been to Ikea at the weekend to do price checks on a few items, and as we were in the shopping mall now we went to a department store to compare tv and dvd player prices. They were about the same as we’d previously seen and this worried us. We’d have to be sensible with our money…so of course we bought an air hockey table! I know my mother-in-law Joan will really appreciate it. So much so that we’re thinking of giving it to her as a present.

Tasty Beaver

We went skating on the Rideau canal, the World’s longest skating rink, today. Well, that is if you can call it skating when two adults are clinging onto each other whilst their legs slide and kick out in all directions and toddlers race and weave between them.

After half an hour, or put another way 30 metres, we returned the skates and headed for the food stalls. You probably think that Canadians are generally nature lovers. We’ve found that this isn’t quite the case because at the food stalls we had a beaver tail, coated in maple syrup! It was lovely with a hot chocolate and hot apple cider.

Bal de Neige Rodney. Bal. De. Neige!

Only a quick message, just because I liked the title really! We drove the five minutes through Ottawa today and went over the border into Quebec, the French speaking province. Why would we do such an insane thing? The Canadian festival of Winterlude is split between Ottawa and Hull (essentially the same city as they're just across the Ottawa river from each other). We'd seen the ice sculptures on our first day in Canada and wanted to see the snow sculptures. Just as the ice sculptures had been wonderfully intricate, so too were the snow sculptures, though these were on a much larger scale (see photos). The snow sculptures had been damaged slightly by the rain during the week, but they still looked very impressive.

A Close Shave

Sarah texted me today to say that she'd done a silly thing, but I'd have to wait until I got home to find out what it was. I couldn't see anything broken or damaged when I got home and it took a while for Sarah to confess that whilst shaving her legs in the shower this morning, her hand with the razor in slipped and she managed to shave her bottom! My wife now has a 5" red scar on her right bottom cheek! There was blood, but that has stopped now and we're hoping there won't be a permanent scar.

Wrong side of the tracks

I'm getting used to the driving in Canada now. The driving rules are a bit odd here. Apart from being on the wrong side of the road, in Ottawa all the road signs are in English and French (when you go over to Quebec though, they're just in French. Typical). Rather helpfully the French are backwards and so street names are Avenue Queens, or Promenade McArthur for Queens Avenue and McArthur Drive. This is useful for the Ottawa street sign writers as they can put the French part then the name then the English part, for example 'rue LAURIER street'. It's also good for Sarah and I as I'm sure we'll be fluent in French just from reading street signs and food packaging.

One of the Canadian driving rules that took some getting used to is turning right at traffic lights. Over here you can turn right when a traffic light is on red, provided there is no traffic coming from your left and, this is the crucial bit could be costly, that there are no pedestrians crossing the road you are turning into. This rule was particularly scary to come across both whilst driving and walking. It's even worse as the rule seems to be voluntary, as we've moved to walk across a road several times and cars have just turned right at the red light and then had to swerve round us. Oh, and one last point about driving in Canada. In the UK we have signs above motorways that tell you which road you are on. Confusingly for me, the signs above the motorways here tell you which road you will be on if you take the next exit. I've had several panics where I thought I was on completely the wrong road with no hope of getting off for the next 100 miles!

Lastly for this message, I have to let you all know that Canadian radio is awful. There's virtually no choice as every station plays safe-middle-of-the-road adult ROORRCK (rock). Not my type of music so on the journey to work I listen to a French station that seems to consist entirely of prank phone calls. Though being French they can't do this normally so it's not the presenters that make the prank calls but the listeners. They phone up the DJs and pretend to be from some company or other by putting on a strange voice and the DJs laugh hysterically.

Canadian Celebrity Tours

My company have been helpful with our relocation and part of this help includes having a relocation expert show us round the city so we can get an idea of neighbourhoods to live in. I'm at work now so couldn't go along but today Sarah was shown around various Ottawa districts. Sarah saw a couple of nice areas, but the real story here is who showed Sarah around. You'll no doubt be as well read on Canadian politics of the late 70s early 80s as we are, so you'll know that the Prime Minister in that era was Pierre Trudeau. He was responsible for a lot of unity laws that allowed the English and French speaking Canadians to live happily side by side.

What you might not know though, is that Trudeau's wife during this period, and therefore first lady of Canada was almost 30 years his junior. And allegedly, she was a bit of a wild-child, going to clubs with the Rolling Stones and having very close relationships with Canadian and US senators such as Bobby Kennedy. The Trudeaus split in the 80s and she had a couple of years off from the social scene to write several books about her life and then married a Canadian real estate (property owner) millionaire. Had two more children, but got divorced again and now enjoys showing Sarah the nice areas to live in Ottawa! (I've not mentioned the ladies name in order to protect the innocent).

After being shown round by a celebrity, Sarah and I met up in town and went to the Canadian National Art Gallery (it's free on Thursday evenings). It is a very big gallery so we decided to take our time over it and see it in a several visits and that we'd see the first floor this time around. There were lots of modern art that we didn't understand. I embarrassed Sarah immensely by loudly dissecting the symbolism and abstract meaning of a fire exit. I got a flicked nose when people started looking at me and backing out of the room.

The Holiday Is Over

Today was my first day at the new job. I was nervous as I didn't really know what to expect. It was ok though. The first few days of a new job are always about the company structure and meeting lots of people. I have got a really good computer. For you nerds out there it's a 3GHz processor with 1Gig of RAM and a 19" LCD screen. I've also got my own cubicle. Really high walled too, which makes me think of the Dilbert cartoons. My new colleagues seem nice and have given me lots of tips for living in Ottawa.

As you'd expect for Canada in Winter there has been a layer of snow over everything since we arrived. At lunchtime it started snowing again, but the weather reports said this would change into worse stuff in the afternoon. Sure enough on the way home it had started to rain, then the temperature dropped and the rain froze. Frozen rain showers are no picnic. This stuff is larger than hail stones and if you get a decent wind along with it then it could chip your windscreen. Still, it looks pretty!

Everybody Needs Good Neighbours or That's one for the (b)log!

...we could have done with a good night's sleep on our first night in Canada, but at 2.30am there was frantic knocking at our door. I answered and a woman asked quickly if we've left water running in our bathroom as her bathroom downstairs was flooding. I told her that we hadn't left water running and she ran off. We both went back to sleep...

...only to be woken again at 3am. This time by the security guard asking if we'd left water on. Sarah answered the door this time and said he could check if he wanted to. He didn't and went off in a hurry. On the way back to the bedroom, Sarah checked in the bathroom and found the floor was soaking wet! I went down to find the security guard in the lobby and told him about the water. He grabbed his plunger and closed the lobby security room door behind him to get the lift with me. Then he stopped and said, 'I don't believe I've done that. I've locked myself out'.

The guard and I went to the apartment and found that the water was spilling out from the toilet bowl. We turned off the cistern stop-cock, which stopped the water so that a plumber could fix it properly in the morning. Now we had to help the guard get back into his office.

Sarah came down to the lobby with us as there is a metal grate that someone with small hands could reach through and turn the key. The lock was really stiff and none of us could turn the key despite trying for twenty minutes. Just as we were about to give up and try another method, a woman came into the lobby on her way out (at 3 in the morning! What the?). She also had small hands and gave the key a try. We'd obviously loosened it as the key turned and the guard could climb through into his office. And we got to go back to bed.

The story doesn't end then there though. At 4am I was woken AGAIN by what I thought was more knocking at the front door. But when I opened the door there was nobody there. As I went to bed AGAIN I realised that the knocking came from the heating system in the flat. Sigh. A good welcome to a new country.

Winter Wonderland

My company have put us up in an apartment in the centre of town for the first month to allow us to find our way around and get settled. Sarah wasn't so keen on the apartment when we found out it was on the 14th floor. Apparently everything in the flat is sliding towards the windows! The location is great as it's only a ten minute walk from the main shopping centres, the parliament and riverside. We've got a pool, sauna, laundrette, gym and hairdressers in the apartment complex. All very nice, but I hope we don't get used to it as it's only for a month.

After looking around the apartment we walked into town past tattoo and body piercing parlours, teenage grunge clothing shops and convenience stores. Hmm, we're in that part of town. In town we found the Winterlude festival, Ottawa's celebration of all things icy and white. As well as skating along the city canal we saw ice sculptures being carved (see photos). There are snow sculptures and a snow maze across the Ottawa river in Quebec, but we didn't get round to see them.

We got a hot-dog from a street vendor and wandered back to the apartment. I finally got Sarah to move from the doorway and to sit on the settee and we tried to watch a bit of tv. I say tried because there are a zillion channels here and you need a PhD to work out the tv guide. We tried flicking through the channels but with so many you never feel like you've found the one you want to watch. To make things worse the tv channel numbers are different depending on which region of the city and country you are in. After a frustrating hour we gave up and went to bed after a knackering day...

Cutting it fine

We still hadn't heard about moving to Canada when we got up this morning, so decided to see the changing of the guard outside the parliament on our way to Bella Vista, the bohemian quarter of Santiago. We wanted some lapis lazuli as a souvenir from Chile as it is only found in Chile and Afghanistan (yeah, we found this odd too). The lapis was very expensive in Bella Vista, but the journey wasn't wasted as we had a tour of Pablo Neruda's house. Pablo was a Chilean poet and diplomat who won the Nobel prize for literature in 1971. He was a very eccentric man who collected anything and everything. He loved the sea and his house in Santiago was designed in a ship style. The rooms are long and narrow with low ceilings. Lots of the furniture had come from boats such as the port hole windows. A tree that had grown where Pablo wanted to build his house was left and turned into a mast in the lounge. Pablo was a good friend of Salvador Allende, the President of Chile before the Pinochet coup in 1973. During the coup, Salvador was offered exile abroad but he stayed in parliament, telling Chileans that these dark days would pass. He died in parliament during the coup. Pablo died a fortnight after the coup, some say of a broken heart for his good friend and for his country. Pablo's houses in Chile were ransacked by the Pinochet regime and a lot of the paintings he'd been given by famous artist friends such as Picasso were destroyed.

After the tour we went to the museum we'd visited a day earlier and the market in the main square to buy our souvenirs. Then we went back to the hotel to see if there was any news about us going to Canada. It was 4pm and we had to be at the airport by 7pm if we were to catch our flight. There was no work permit waiting for us. Over the next hour I called my new company and the immigration consultants. Everyone was doing everything they could but I still didn't have the work permit. There was half and hour to go before we had to leave for the airport if we were to make the plane and the immigration consultants said they could fax me a letter and I could apply for the work permit when I got to Toronto airport. Of course there could well be an interview and if I failed we'd both be escorted out of the country. Hmm, no pressure then, ok we'll go for that. Even that was not straight forward as it took me far too long to get the gravity of the situation across to the hotel staff that I needed to get the fax off them. By this time Sarah was getting hysterical and trying her best to find the worst in the situation. I had to kiss her to shut her up.

The fax came through and we ran out to get a taxi. The hotel concierge had got the hang off our urgency and told the taxi driver to step on it. We got to the airport just in time for our flight. During the flight I read all the information I had about the job, but I needed have worried as the most difficult question was what is my job title. We were in!

Fine wine

This morning we took a bus out of Santiago to the Undurraga vineyard for a tour of the winery. It was an interesting tour. The grapes were surprisingly small. We were shown the families private cellars, had a taste of three of their wines and were given the tasting glasses as souvenirs. We really enjoyed the wine so bought two bottles of red and a bottle of champagne. Only on the bus on the way to Santiago did we think it might be problematic to transport three glass bottles to Canada in our luggage. Back in Santiago we went round the Pre-Colombian museum. A very good exhibition of South American Indian art and pottery. We liked the look of the souvenirs in the museum shop, but at £100 for a woollen scarf, we decided not to buy anything. For those of you who have tuned in for the bigger story about out move to Canada and are wondering when we'll be arriving there, we're wondering the same thing. I've had several emails from my new employer but none confirming my work permit is ready, so we don't even know if we fly out tomorrow night. It's a bit difficult not knowing what we'll be tomorrow. We're off now to check our email again. We'll let you know!

Shabby chic

We made breakfast in our hotel suite. Then get the bus to Valparaiso, just ten minutes along the coast from Vina. Valpo, as the locals call it, is an industrial port. Pretty grimy and run down. It is in a odd place for a port. Ok the harbour is secluded for ships, but there is only a small amount of land between the sea front and the near vertical cliffs that surround the bay. So once the port town got too big for bay area, the residents built into and on top of the cliffs. The town has 14 ascensors, combination of a lift and tram to take residents between the upper and lower districts. Despite being rundown the town is very pretty as all the houses on the cliffs are all painted different colours. We went to the café suggested in our guide book for lunch. We'd just sat down and ordered and were looking through the guide book and a man in his 30s sat down next to us and said 'nice to see the Rough Guide.' I said he could borrow it and he replied 'oh, I don't need it'. I was half way through thinking he was a prat for showing off that he could speak some Spanish and he added, 'I wrote it'. ("Yeah, right, sure you did")..."I'm Andrew Benson". A quick check inside the book and sure enough, Andrew Benson was one of the authors. At this point we were really glad that we'd bought the Rough Guide! Now this guy could just have an encyclopaedic knowledge of guide book contributors, but he did say he also wrote for the Argentina, France and Greece Rough Guides. Anyway, he was a really nice guy and we had a chat about South America and I really embarrassed Sarah by asking him to sign our guide book (see photos). After our celebrity lunch we walked round Valpo and went to the docks and got a couple more ascensors to get views of the city and then got the luxury bus back to Santiago. We treated ourselves to a fine slap up meal in Burger King. Now that's luxury!

Lost in Translation

The seaside resort of Vina del Mar is where wealthy Chileans buy holiday homes. We'd already planned to go there so when we asked in tourist information about rodeos and were told there was one in Vina today, we jumped to it. We'd highly recommend the intercity buses in Chile. Local ones are really run down and are driven just as badly as in Rio, but the buses between cities are luxurious. We paid £3 each to get to Vina del Mar, 2 hours from Santiago. The bus had individual headphones, tv, toilet, combined clock and temperature indicator (it also told you when the toilet was in use), air conditioning and we were given a blanket and pillow for the journey! Sarah took full advantage of this luxury and put her pyjama fleece on and had a 2 hour kip. On arrival in Vina del Mar we couldn't immediately find the rodeo so asked in local tourist information. They didn't know of a rodeo in town. Hmmm. We headed to the location the tourist office in Santiago had given us, but no rodeo. I think they may have misunderstood what we meant by rodeo because what was there instead was a circus. A very dodgy looking circus too. Disappointed, we tried further along the road and although we didn't see a rodeo we did see the warm up for the Vina horse races. We'd asked the tourist office in Santiago to reserve us a hotel and after the mistake over the rodeo, we were worried what we'd end up with. We needn't have been concerned though. Oh, on the way to the hotel we saw the tourist attraction in Vina, the Vina del Mar flower clock. Anyway, the hotel turned out to be a suite. We had a huge room with a triple bed (what do they expect from their guests?), a kitchen, wide-screen views of the Pacific and a jacuzzi bath! We'd never had one of those before. We'll spare you the pictures though. Checking the map we realised that if we got a boat and sailed a course due West, the next land we'd come across would be Australia somewhere just above Sydney! We got the confusing hotel lifts (get in first one and your on level 1 and you go down to -3. Down the corridor and get next lift where you're now on level 8 and go down to level 1!??) to the beach front level and had a look round the casino, castle and beach. We didn't go for a swim. Not many people do as the water is so cold. The Hombolt current sweeps Antarctic waters right up the West coast of South America, taking tons of plankton along with it, which is how penguins can survive at the Galapogos Islands on the equator. After the casino we had lunch and then took in the Fonck museum to see the Easter Island exhibition. It was cheating a bit but we did get our picture taken next to an Easter Island moai. The exhibition also had three heads that had been shrunk by an Indian witch doctor. They were tiny. About the size of a tennis ball! (Though still substantially bigger than Craig´s head). On the way back to the hotel we had a look round the Rioja palace, which was more of stately home than a palace. It was a good insight into wealthy Chilean life at the turn of the last century. One interesting feature of the house was that it had a suspension. This was because the majority of Chile is an Earthquake zone and the suspension helped the house to survive tremors. The suspension meant that the floor vibrated when a bus went past outside. It felt like a small Earthquake.

Rebel without a clue

I've always wanted to come to Chile, but like the vast majority of tourists who come here my interest is in the glacial parks in the far South and the desert of the far North. Santiago doesn't have any World famous attraction to draw in the visitors and most people pass through on the way to other parts of the country. We've come to realise that this is a shame. Whilst non-Chileans won't have heard of the places in Santiago, there is plenty to see here in the many churches, public squares, markets and mix of modern, glass office blocks next to colonial buildings.

Not knowing what to expect from Santiago has made a refreshing change. Whereas Rio felt like a bit of a rush to get round to seeing everything at times, we're seeing Santiago at a much more leisurely pace and enjoying spending time in cafés and ice-cream bars. I found a particularly nice café this afternoon. Just off the main square, was a quiet looking café with darkened windows. I was mildly shocked when I opened the door to go in and saw a waitress wearing just heels, G-string and a black leather bra (not that I was paying any attention, I'm just very observant). I wasn't as surprised as the man she was serving who was visibly embarrassed at being seen in such an establishment in the middle of the day. Still, the café was directly across the road from the cathedral so he could immediately go and repent for his sin.

It´s really inconsiderate of Brazilians to speak Portuguese whilst the rest of South America speaks Spanish. The one word picked up in Rio was obragado, meaning thank-you, but it´s not the same in Spanish so is useless here in Chile!

This morning Sarah pointed out that I should be starting work in Ottawa in a week's time (we haven't had an update on the work permit, so we'll still a bit in limbo). With this being my last week of freedom I decided to do something a bit rebellious and got a tattoo done! It was only a little one of a Chilean Indian, which you can see in our photos.

Oh, our first impressions of Santiago being a really nice city to stroll around where tempered somewhat on the way back to our hotel last when we saw a man squatting to wee in the street. Not a quiet back street either, but one of the main routes to the central square and there were lots of people walking past him. We could have stayed in Romford to see that kind of behaviour.

Retrospective Rio

After a four hour flight threading our way through the Andes, we are now in Santiago, Chile.

After only a couple of hours sleep last night, we had a couple of restful hours in our downtown hotel. Went out for some dinner and found the main square quite by accident and have enjoyed watching the World go by and reminiscing about Rio.

Rio is a marvellous city, full of energy and exuberance for living. The location of the city is uniquely beautiful, unlike anywhere else we've been. Despite stories of muggings and being ripped off, we felt safe and all the Brazilians we met were very friendly. We were disappointed with the weather and the laid back attitude of the hotel staff over our carnival tickets was difficult for us uptight Brits to cope with! It all worked out, we got to see the biggest show on Earth and left Rio loving it.

Carnival-tastic?

I'm sure you've all had a sleepless night wondering if we received our carnival tickets and made it to the sambodrome. We'll keep you in suspense...we had to wait so you can too!

Got the bus into Ipanema to visit the bag shop but it was closed until 10am. As this is our last day in Rio we had to go up the Corcovado even though it was still cloudy. We got the cute funicular through the rain forest up to the Christ statue. The view over the city looked very promising on the ride up until the last 50m and we were engulfed in thick grey cloud.

We did manage to establish that Christ has not turned his back on Rio and does in fact look out over the city. I'm sure this is a great comfort to the residents of the favelas behind the mountain who can't have failed to notice the symbolism.

We were glad not to be on a tour of the Corcovado as we were able to wait for an hour or so and get a glimpse of Rio through the clouds. The 10am tour had a torrid time and barely saw each other let alone the city below.

Whilst waiting for the clouds to clear, we got chatting to a kiwi (a man, not a fruit or bird) who was on a round the World year off and made us really jealous. He'd just been to Ecuador and then Antarctica on a whim. He'd spoken to some locals who said this was the worst Summer in Brazil for the last 12 years! No kidding.

We got a bus (yes, finance wins over personal safety) to the shopping centre, where Sarah was not so worried about finance as she spent a ridiculous amount of money on a designer bag and wallet. In her defence, Sarah did claim to be helping the local economy as the bag is made by Gilson Martins, a Brazilian designer.

In the rush to the bag shop Sarah left the one item entrusted to her care at the sandwich bar. Her new, black and white M&S umbrella, which has been an essential item during our rainy stay in Rio.

Went back to the hotel to pack and...to pick up our carnival tickets!! Yippee.

We then got the most unhelpful taxi driver ever who dropped us off 10 streets from the bar where we were meeting Aoife (Sarah's Canadian cousin) and her friends. We arrived at the bar just as they were leaving and all walked down to the beach to join the drag queen parade. After a few minutes the heavens opened and we got soaked (we had no umbrella you see) running back to the bar. It was really good meeting up with Aoife and her friends for a drink.

We had a frantic taxi journey back to our hotel to get the shuttle bus to the sambodrome. It is an incredible place. There are stands for 120,000 people. The were 10 samba schools parading, each given an hour for the three to five thousand school members to march, dance and play samba music down the 500m runway. The costumes were vibrantly coloured and elaborate and the floats were unbelievable. You can help but get carried away with the music and the infectious enthusiasm of the Brazilians. It was such a unique experience and has been the highlight of our trip.

Rollercoaster Rio

Our plan today was to get up early and answer one of the great questions posed by postcards: Does the statue of Christ face Rio or face away? (see photos)
We put this plan off when we saw the thick grey clouds covering the city. Instead we went to the botanical gardens and spent an enjoyable couple of hours waling in the gardens and the nearby rain forest.

It was still raining slightly after lunch, so we put off going to see the statue again, and got a bus to the Saint Theresa district. We'd been lucky getting the right buses so far, but this one took a wrong turn. Panicking that we were lost as we went through a tunnel, we pulled the cord to stop the bus at the next stop. This proved to be a mistake as we found ourselves in the middle of a favela, a shanty town scattered around the hills that every guide book tells you in big bold letter NEVER TO GO TO ON YOUR OWN. Trying to look as Brazilian as possible, we consulted our tourist map and then hailed the next available minibus.

Our relief at getting the bus was soon replaced by immediate fear as the bus driver hurtled through crowded streets unable to operate the brake pedal or keep all four wheels on the road when taking corners. We've noticed that the bus driving gets more erratic as the day goes on. The bus drivers not wearing their seatbelts tend to be safer as they have at least reached a state of acceptance in their own mortality and this dulls their enthusiasm for speed. You should be wary of the drivers who do use their seatbelts. These guys get a feeling of security from wearing the seatbelts and this makes them driver everywhere at 90 miles an hour and try to squeeze 6 lanes out of a 4 lane road.

The rain got worse as we walked around St. Theresa district. This is described in the guide book as a picturesque area of the city, good for taking a quiet stroll around the brightly painted colonial buildings. Hmmm, we saw two buildings that didn't need the attention of a good building and decorator. And the rain poured too. We've only got a little umbrella with us. Well, who brings an umbrella to South America! We get soaked through, our feet started to rub in our shoes because of the wetness and we got crouchy. Not the best afternoon.

Another hair raising bus ride back to the hotel and we hoped to pick up tickets for the sambodrome. When people think of Brazilian carnivals, they imagine huge, brightly decorated floats, big bands, dancing girls in not much but a few feathers and all this on every street. In other parts of South America this may still be the case, but in Rio the carnival has turned into a big competition between the favela samba schools. The huge floats and parades all take place at the sambodrome. Those of you who are paying attention will remember that Sarah and I thought we'd managed to book flights out of Rio the day the sambodrome parade starts. Having got here, we found out that there is a parade the day before we leave for samba schools trying to win a place in next years main competition. Great! We get to see a colourful parade. Our hotel concierge said he would book tickets for us and we hoped that, after the disappointing afternoon in St. Theresa district, we'd be able to pick up our tickets. Not so. There were tickets for us, but there'd been a huge mix up. Apparently, a Brazilian woman who knows us had phoned the hotel and insisted that we had to see the real party on Sunday night and so the concierge had changed our tickets! Without asking us! And we'd already told him we fly out on Sunday morning! Disaster. The concierge said he'd change the tickets but they wouldn't arrive at the hotel until tomorrow. We went to our room and sulked for an hour, not sure if we were meant to miss the party or not.

In the evening we asked our friendly concierge if there were any street parades tonight. He circled an area on our map, so we got the bus and went looking for the party. The streets were empty apart from a few cariocans going about their business. We searched for half an hour and then asked the concierge at another hotel for the location of the street. He circled somewhere else, but told us that that party wouldn't start until midnight, two hours away. We walked to the beach front and sulked over a cocktail. We weren't having a good day. On our second cocktail I heard a noise coming from up the street. Very gradually the noise got louder and we could tell it was the beat of a drum. We drank up, paid and headed in the direction of the drum. We'd found a party! There was one float (well, a van with a make shift platform on the roof) and three women in decorative costumes. Sarah noticed that one of the women was only paint on her skin! There was a band marching in front of the van and a couple of hundred people dancing along. We joined in!

We stayed with this party for an hour and then needed a drink to cool off. After the drink we went in search of the midnight party and found this one a lot quicker than the first. No float or undressed women this time, just a crowd of maybe 300 people singing and dancing and a few playing instruments. It soon spilled out into the main street and stopped the traffic. Well, until a bus came along and the driver couldn't find the brake pedal!

Her Name is Rio and She Dances in the Street

Another overcast day in the mountains around Rio. After our experience up Sugar Loaf Mountain, we're waiting for a clearer day to go up Corcovado to see the statue of Christ.

We spent an hour or so in a shopping centre hoping the weather would clear. Sarah spied...you guessed it, another bag. As Brazil, and Rio in particular are the birthplace of two of my favourite types of music, Samba Jazz and Bossa Nova, we bought a couple of CDs.

It's nice to try out local cuisine when on holiday. They have some odd offerings in Brazil, like the cheese and jam croissant I had for lunch! The hilltop clouds hadn't cleared after lunch, so we decided to go to the historical centre in the North of the city.

There are over 400 bus routes in Rio. None clearly marked. So we'd been warned off using public transport. Naturally then, we hoped on the first bus we saw with a name on it that we recognised! We got lucky and had a beach front ride round the bay into the historic centre.

The historic centre is an odd mix of old colonial churches and modern high rise office buildings. On the advice of a Cariocan lady who took pity on us for looking lost, we took the ferry across Guanabara bay to Niteroi to get city wide views of Rio. After the obligatory four minute stay, we got the return ferry back to Rio.

We had drinks and cakes for afternoon tea at the famous (it's in the guide book) Colombia Café and then, when taking in the atmosphere around the streets, we came across our first street parade. It was a group of children, some in matching clothes (can't really say costumes as it was just the same skirt) dancing down the street with drums and trumpets being played and two boys in jeans rapping over loud speakers.
We got the bus back to Copacabana beach and as the sunset, we strolled along the promenade, people watching and stopping for capirinhas. A beautiful four hour jaunt with Sugar Loaf mountain as a backdrop. We must have had too many cocktails as we danced on the beach and sang 'At the Copa, Copacabana'.

Bitter, Sweet Sugar Loaf.

Rio has come up with an ingenious way of maintaining its rain forest. It rains. We should have spotted the clue in the name. It is raining right now. Which is a shame as we're up Sugar Loaf mountain with a cloudy panoramic view of Rio. The rain started just as we got to the very top of the mountain. Now Sarah is not one for heights at the best of times. It's why she's so short. Sarah didn't like being up the mountain anyway and when the rain started she politely suggested the we get off the top level of the mountain right now. We spent a record 4 minutes at the peak!

The cable car is in two stages so we decamped to the lower level where Sarah felt safe from electrical storms and tornado force winds. The rain got more persistent but we were doggedly British about it all and found a couple of chairs under some shelter, got refreshments and whilst the band played on we watched other tourist leave, but we stayed, waiting for Rio to sparkle at night.

It is not clear to me why Sugar Loaf is famous. There are plenty of other hills and mountains around Rio to get a good view from. At 396m (1,300ft) Sugar Loaf is not the tallest. It's only historical story (i.e. European recorded events) is that it was first mounted by a British nanny called Henrietta Carstairs in 1817. I think it could be that Sugar Loaf mountain is famous because it is the only mountain in Rio with a cable car up it.
To get to Sugar Loaf, we got the free bus from our hotel to a nearby shopping centre. The bus route took us along Leblon, Ipanema and Copacabana beaches. Rio has 86km of beach in all, but the famous Ipanema and Copacabana are a total 6km long. The beaches are the heart of the lives of Cariocans, as residents of Rio are known. On the beaches you can play beach volleyball, beach football, surf, swim, sunbathe, rollerblade, sculpt sand, walk your dog, get a massage and take yoga lessons. You can buy almost anything you want, towels, necklaces, thongs, coconuts, t-shirts, maps, sweetcorn and car number plates, though I didn't see a single stall selling life assured, index linked tracker endowment policies.

Toucan Play That Game.

Had a lie in and breakfast at hotel, then went to a bird park to get photos of toucans. We'd seen two on our tour the other day, but didn't get any photos.

It's supposed to be good luck when a bird poos on you and I've always been a lucky one. So I shouldn't have been surprised when I got shat on in the first enclosure!

We also learnt why you shouldn't feed wildlife. They get used to it and learn that people equal food. One cocky little parrot at this bird park walks along the hand rail next to you and when you're not looking he hops onto your shoulder or head for a quick nibble. We both screamed like girls, which was made even more embarrassing when a young Brazilian girl stroked the parrot when he landed on her.

We got some good photos of toucans, but hummingbirds proved difficult. An hour of patient waiting with camera poised and I got lots of nice photos of half a hummingbird.

I played golf this evening. It's becoming a bit of a quest to play golf in every country. So far I can tick off England, Scotland, France, Morocco, Australia, New Zealand, Tenerife, Namibia, Portugal and now Brazil.