Posted 7:06 AM by Gobbler
GotterdammerBlog?

One last quick blog before the big off. after three days of cloud and drizzle, which wasnt advertised in the brochure, the sun has come out today in force. only trouble is that im leaving today and so a day sitting on the beach isnt really practical.

well kiddies, what have we learnt on this little journey of blog? damned if i know, but when i return to blighty i may attempt to share with you some of my accrued wisdom and worldly knowledge. Just recently, this morning in fact, i discovered that it is possible to fry sausages without oil. magical. also, rio often has weather that is crap, but its a closely guarded secret.

last night i had a conversation with an american fellow who looks disturbingly like Jordi from star trek. i wonder if he is in league with spock whom i spotted in lima back in september, a trek conspiracy. iu asked him about this and he threatened to ´napalm your ass´ before menacingly asking me ´how many nukes do you have?´ after which he exclaimed ´Hot Doog!´ strange fellow. he also hs very big eyes. he says mthey are his mothers. does she not want them back? much yet do i have to learn.

I´d better go. one last journey, homeward bound. its not quite real yet, its been a while since i was home. ive done my best to tame my ridiculously vigourous afro ´haircut´ which haint been cut for seven months with my last half tub of gel. im packed up for the alst time, squeezing things secure for the last journey. Its all quite wierd. soon my 198 days are up. i´d better go. Punkoid out.

Posted 3:42 PM by Gobbler
Help! I Need Some Bloggy. Help! Not just Any Bloggy.

Help

And so here we were, in Rio, and it was approaching nighttime. As you can well understand, something had to be done. that something was quite likely to involve staying out late and visiting the curious nightlife of rio town. talçk of going to sao paolo for he evening were quickly squashed because they were ridiculous. The new crewq of mateys knew where to go. it was a club called Help. There is a good resaon for this. we rolled up at about one.

Help is called help because it is full of prostitutes who are there to help fat old men get laid. they were happy to help me too in a similar fashion. the trouble with being poor and at the end of my trip is that i no longer have money for this kind of evening. had i my time again i would quite clearly head to /rio first, but such is life. there was real trouble finding a female there who wasnt a err lady of the night shall we say, and indeeed the attempt ended in failure. As a side point i must mention that the ladys toilets were a scary place to be, the aforementioned pros sprucing up their assets for the punters, and offering their services to any non-ho that was foolish enough to wander in. i should point out that i didnt go into thje ladys bog, i heard it on the grapevine. the gents was perfectly fine, indeed quite a quality crapper. The evening progressed. At one humourous point (oh the times we had) we, some geezer and i, invented and played the ´Grab the boobies´ game. This immensely complex game involved going up to a prostitute, grabbing her boobies before scuttling away to claim your 5 Riel prize money, about a pound. One person chooses the targert, the other does the deed. predictably i was up first. Quite a stunner she was, with quite an ample target area, and i seem to remember that she spoke fair english. we exchanged a few words as i struggled to concoct an attack strategy. just a ´can i grab your boobies please?´ seemes an idea, or just the more simplistic grab and run perhaps. In the end i skipped phase one of the latter plan and just ran away giggling like a child. I had failed the Booby Challenge. Matey went up next, the same target, but he couldnt do it either. The game died a death right there and then, and the night carried on. And then things got dangerous.

It appeared after some hours that all the mateys from the hostel including nicky had gone home and i was in the club surrounded by zillions of whores. some would say, some no doubt will, that i had landed myslef in some kind of earthly valhalla. But i, somewhat trolleyed, was thinking about leaving. i realised with horror that i couldnt leave. i didnt know the way home or the name of the hostel. all i knew was that i lived in copacabana rio de janeiro. not frightfully useful to the taximan. Help! I was trapped with 500 prostitutes in Help. I wandered about looking scared. the whores began circling around me, closing in for the kill. they scented dosh from the tourist. i could leave, bt where too? Arguably i was less safe outside than in, not knowing where the hewll i was. i had some idea i suppose, i was by the beach, but theres quite a lot of beach here. Time was getting on. Then, praise the merciful prostitute disdaining lord above, i was saved. i spotted people from the hostel, just leaving. Three of them, so i could join their cab. i had escaped the prostitutes.

Posted 2:35 PM by Gobbler
It Never Rains But I Blog

After the Great Pie Fiasco of late 2003, Fray Bentos fell into disrepute among pie lovers and collectors everywhere. Paraguay was next visited, and we pick up the story on the banks of the river pie. pies were everywhere. oh no! sorry, no pies, none. must get more therapy for the pie fixation. We went to Bar Brittania in Ascunsion.

Being the capital city of a country, albeit one known for crime, corruption and contraband, and with a population of somewhere betwen 600,000 to 1,000,000 people, you would think that there would be quite a few descent bars around, but apparently not, and all advice pointed to bar brittania. we pointed our feet there as well and before long were sitting in the rain in the only free space in the pub drinking beer. ended up talking to a few people who are teaching english there. what a dumpy place to teach for x number of years. mind you, im going to china and might end up somewhere with 0 bars so id better not speak too soon... a good nigh was had in the end and we taxid back to our expensive hotel at a late hour. this did not bode well for our 8 am departure for 'probably the most corrupt city in south america'.

Getting uip at 7am didnt happen unsurprisingly, and we eventually boarded a bus for the grim city at about 3pm or so. this meant that we would have no time to look round the town. not all that bad really, especially if you take the view of the irish expat we met shortly after the last email blog session, which was something along the lines of: 'Oh feck. Oh holy mary, jesus, no! Youre not going there are you? Why for heavens sake? Its Shite. Its probably the shitest city in the entire world. Its dirty, its dull, its dangerous, and theres feck all to do there. Dont stay there whatever you do.' The three D's then. what about the corruption, crime and most importantly contraband? we wanted contraband and now we werent going to get any.

Arriving at about 9pm Saturday night in the rain, the dark, dreary Ciudad Del Este was not tempting us to stay, and plans had been hatched to go eitehr to Foz de Iguazu, the town on the Brazilian side of the border, or Puerto Iguazu, the Argentinian; all cities being very close to one another. At that time of night there were no buses, and i asked how much a taxi would cost. 20 dollars, the bus man said. Expensive, about a months wages in paraguay probably, but we did have to get across the border. taxi driver said 25. Ridiculous price, but they had us by the balls. Ciudad Del Este, capital of all round nastiness, a walk of unknown length and safety through the rain, or the taximans price. And this was only to the edge of town. We got in.

The first place he took us to was too expensive, and he refused to understand the address of the place we wanted to go, so we told him to take us somewhere very cheap that he knew. the next pĺace was more expensive, and he radiod base to ask for the location of a cheap hostel. I heard the guy on the other end of the radio say something like 'we dont get commission for those places'. we were getting a little share of corruption. Eventually we found a place for a highly reasonable 12 reis, four bucks, but had to pay the driver 28 dollars, three extra for driving around so much. not a cheap ride. Criminal really. So in the end, Paraguay gave us our fair share of Crime and Corruption. Regrettably none of the coveted Contraband. Such is life and at least we had escaped intact into Brazil. It was Saturday night, but not being in much of a party mood after the kings ransom of a taxi, we took an early one.

But why, you must by now be wondering, were we in a town with such a silly name as Foz de Iguazu? Well, let me explain. Iguazu, in some old native language, the language and people long since iradicated i expect, means 'Big Water'. you can understand why they kept the native word, cos big water sounds rubbish. Basically theres some mighty fine waterfall action going on there to rival Niagara and Victoria Falls. Plus it took us on our way to our next stop, Curitiba, for Brazils most beautiful train journey. You heard me, an honest to goodness hot dog dickety dang Train. Marvellous.

You can see the falls from botht the argie and the brazilian side. plan was to do brazil side sunday, argie side monday, train on tuesday and be in Rio De Janeiro for Wednesday. Not the most laid back plan ever conceived ever conceived.

What the Devil! and Damn Funny, sounds like a, like a train... in the distance. Train! By dickery its a god damned mofo TRAIN!!!

The suday saw the brazilian side opf the falls. the falls are spectacular. We went in the afternoon because it rained all morning, but we had time to see everything i.e. the waterfall. Particularly impressive was an area of the fall known as the Devils Throat. Lots of water tumbling around in a Devils throat-like way. (Kat, may have to call on you here for the official word on what the Devils Throat is supposed to look like) It was all excellent, and we got an overall view of the fals, not possible from the argie side. but i preferred the argie side, for unsurpassable reasons which i shall now relate.

We took a bus across the border and from Puerto Iguazu got another to the falls. Shortly after arriving, there was fantastic news to be learned. The argie falls park effort had worked a stroke of genius into its setup. it had a train. we got on the train, in such excitement that some say we didnt even know exactly where it went. It went to the start of a trail across the river that led us to an even more spectacular view of the Devils Throat. Magic, nothing quite like it. If you ever get the chance, do pop by and have a gander, you wont regret it. Particularly as its been raining so much recently so the brown waters were somewhat swelled.

Having so many different falls, the walk to all the different viewing points took us some hours, and we were only just in time for the speedboat tour that we had booked; we got on the last one. This was a real treat too. Niagara, a different bit of waterfall, has a boat that cruises around the bottom of the falls, leisurely like, and you get wet from the spray. basically, dont forget your brolly and your mac. Not so Iguazu. Forget the damn brolly, wouldnt last five seconds, and the macs a bit of a waste too. Rains all very well, but when your mentally unstable captain of your worryingly unstable speedboat charges at full throttle at the waterfall, the macs rather an academic accessory: you will not stayn dry. Loadsa fun in the churning bubbling furious brown waters, spray obscuring vision and waves obliterating any remaing dry patches, the occassional glimpse of a rather large volume of water in a waterfall stylee about ten feet away. What youve got there is a quality time.

As we walked back through the park looking for the train to take us out, we realised the hour was getting on. We´d be lucky to make the half six bus to the town, pick up another bus back to brazil, pick up our stuff, go to the bus station, get a 9 1/2 hour bus to Curitiba and arrive there in time for the 8am train departure. Virtually impossible in fact. But when i get a sniff of a train, i want that train, and seeing as im going back home on Saturday i didnt want to hang about. I convinced Nicky to give it a try.

We made the half 6 bus, but on arriving back in puerto iguazu were appalled to discover that there were no more buses. Sugar. Eventually, and with no other option, we requisitioned a taxi. Not another total ripoff this time, argentinia not going so far bay way of the three C´s, and he agreed to take us to our hostel and then the bus station for 35 pesos, 7 pounds. We had to get a bus by half nine at the latest to allow us time to get to the train station and book a ticket for the 8 am departure, the only one in the day. We reached the hostel at 7:45, but that was 8:45 Brazilian time. Not much time, bundling our bags into the taxi, i quickly asked the ladyn in the hostel what time the buses went. she said she thought 9pm, but shed check. the station was 6kms away. she went over to the phonme to ring up. just beofre she picked it up it rang and slowly, oh so painfully slowly, she answered the call. Should i have just left andf chanced the 6 km drive in 12 minutes? I didnt want to be impolite and just leave, and she could find out vital info. i waited. seconds drifted by. the taxi driver motioned that he wanted to go, nicky asked what i was waiting for. waiting. the phonecall finished, and she dialled for the times. she got through quickly and began talking. Being in portuguese i couldnt understand what she was saying. more seconds. she put the phoine down and, with all the time in the world, totally oblivious it seemed to any rush that might be going on, addressed me: ´I dont know, sorry. not sure.´ ´Fat lot of f´ing use that was you silly woman´ i wanted to say as i thanked her and dived into the motor.

We did not zoom away with a screetching of tyres. The car had stalled, and the driver couldnt get it started. Marvellous! Great! He eventually got it going, and with a friendly wave to the lady, made tracks to an uncertain outcome at the bus station. Arriving at almost bang on nine, we thanked the driver and under weight of bags wobbled quickly into the station. Where was the right bus company? we found two. nicky queued at one and i at another. None but she can say what fate befell nicky at her queue, but mine was just great. One couple were arguiing furiously about getting some refund or other on their ticket, a lengthy process, while the ticket guy was constantly distracted by a rogue wasp that was buzzing around inside his booth. he founmd it quite amusing, in thought of the bus, if there was one, beginning to drive away.

Both nicky and i were successful with our bus searches and we left on one at about 9:20 pm. And it was only to take 9 hours. It didnt break down, blow up, or otherwise be rubbish, and we arrived at Curitiba at 6:40 am, in good time to get our train tickets. Or rather, perhpas that should be TRAIN tickets.

The train was damned funny despite having crap views on the way there (our train trip consisted of going to a town, staying there for four hours and coming back) it was an interesting, beautiful journey through sub tropical forests and included going round the ´Devils Curve´, a curvacious treat in anybodys book. The town we visited was hot, muggy and boring, so we succumbed to the tourist traps to pass the time. i recall also having a huge meal and drinking some beer. It seems like days ago but it was only yesterday. Getting far to enthralled in a game of ´who am i´ we nearly missed the return train. This was far better, asa it was almost empty and we had an english speaking guide who was excellent at telling us what we were seeing out of the windows and about the railways. he was, however, if anything a bit too keen. From the interesting: ´this railway was built from 1880 to 1885, only five years. amazing achievement. built with 10,000 labourers, but they werent slaves, oh no. i mean, we had slaves then but we didnt use them. we paid immigrants to do the work as they needed jobs. many of them died of course, but that was normal. many died from tropical diseases and so on.´ (must have been a right picninc) to the less so 'to your right are some racing stallions, 1,000,000 dollars trhe cheapest´ to the outright boring such as ´to you lef tis an italian restaurant´. we were trying to have a nice peaceful game of charades and not all these interruptions were 100% welcome. perhgaps they should have been.

The Last City

so here i am ladies and gents, the last city: Rio de Janeiro. The last bus journey has been completed, a satisfactory 12 hours, and right on schedule i find myself, sadly, at my last stop before home. but thiws is no time for a eulogy. What of Rio?

One thing sticks particularly in my mind when i have previously thought of rio: beaches, and beach related paraphernalia such as buttocks and sun and sea and the ladies swimwear lovingly referred to by the locals as 'dental floss'. I awoke bleary eyed to the final stages of my bus journey, the outer suburbs of Rio. First thing i noticed was that it was still raining. Its been doing that a lot these last few days wherever ive been, perhaps a ploy by the good Lord above to prepare me for english weather. Second thing i noticed was a policem siren, and within seconds a police car sped past. then another and another. then lots more. At least 30 in all i reckon, perhaps a few more. whoever excited their wrath is in for a bad day, i mused. perhaps it was just a training exercise, but still an interesting wellcome to rio.

Were now fully hostelled. A quick peek at the beach has revealed no fruit. But then thats not surprising when its raining. Going out somewhere C-ra-a-zy tonight. Will report back tomorrow when i know more.

Moral of the story: People selling contraband dental floss on trains do badly on rainy days.

iamevil: take it easy! i was only joking when i said that you were about as evil as a squashed trifle! not sure about that one. soon indeed foul being. kat: what talkacks? where are they? what the cotton-picking son of a gun hot-doog is goin on! Yes you did mention your southern accent. are you here alluding to the fact that under the influenced of alcohol there is a slightly unusual slant on your sexual behaviour also? Evil Uncle: She certainly had quite a way with words. I think its safe to say that so far you are well ahead in the evil stakes, but watch your back; evil begets evil: you may have many evil acolytes out therewho all want to be more evil than you... Laura: dunno mate, dont asdk me i only blog here. me: a very fair point i must say. couldnt resist a quick comment to point out the shortcomingsa of evil today i see. Hockey Rich: arriving home at 12:20 hours, bookewd in for the 13:00 showing, nice nice nice (not really mum, will e details of flight soon tho i know you have them at home.)