Seeing The Americas My Way: An emotional journey

By Tony Giles

Tony’s second fascinating travel biography offers a more sensory observation of backpacking. From the sounds, smells and cuisine of Brazil and Argentina to the rhythm of salsa in Cuba. Mexico, Chile and Uruguay are also briefly explored.
Whilst there are the usual adrenaline fuelled activities associated with this author in the United States and Canada, the main thread of the story deals with a personal challenge of compromising between love and friendship.
It is a journey of self-discovery with a focus on sparten nature and isolation as a guidance to help the author resolve his emotional problems.
Continue following Tony’s unique wanderings to discover where he will lead you!
Author’s website: www.tonythetraveller.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tony Giles
• Release date: Sep 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781912022625

Book preview

illustration

Prologue

One of the world’s most amazing species is the Wandering Albatross. This magnificent predator can be found primarily around the islands and lands of the Southern Ocean. Apparently, they leave the nest annually; sleeping on the wind, gliding on air currents. The species wanders in solitude, landing only to breed, feed and occasionally recharge its batteries in readiness for the next adventure. As such, I can relate to the Wandering Albatross; travelling alone for long periods, sleeping fitfully, constantly vigilant of danger whilst remaining alert for the next discovery.

I learnt about this remarkable bird from a video documentary whilst travelling through Chile’s fjords, and it is that experience that provides the inspiration for this book. The combination of nature and self-determination; the solo flight of a bird living in splendid isolation provided the idea for a further challenge – that of writing! I see myself as the Wandering Albatross, soaring over oceans on a solo journey into the unknown, returning only when necessity calls.

Part 1: South America

Chapter 1: The Reasons for Going

I began planning this trip in the autumn of 2003 after completing my Master of Arts (MA) degree in Transatlantic Studies, ‘History of US Foreign Policy’ at Birmingham University in England. The idea of travelling again had formed in my mind earlier that year. However, before I explain the orchestration, some background detail is required; yes - you’ve guessed, it centres on a girl!

To protect her identity and for the purpose of this story, she is referred to here as G. We met in a car park when I was attempting to locate a pub near my University residence. Although I’d recently stopped drinking as I was becoming an alcoholic, I still enjoyed the atmosphere and social environment of the pub. I turned into the pub’s car park and was searching aimlessly for the exit with my cane, when I heard a sweet-sounding voice; Hey love, do you need some help? I replied, Yes please and this heroine escorted me to the pub. Upon taking her arm I noticed she was tall and smelled delightful, an observation I relayed to her. After depositing me at the entrance, she disappeared. Another nice girl I’d never meet again! Several nights later whilst attempting to find a table in the same establishment, a soft female voice asked if I’d like a seat? I replied, Yes, thanks. After a short conversation, recognition dawned and we enjoyed a few drinks together. G walked me home, we exchanged phone numbers and she suggested meeting up again.

We soon became good friends. G was in the final year of her undergraduate Modern Languages degree. She spoke Spanish and German fluently and was learning Portuguese. We connected intellectually and emotionally, our energies responding naturally. Indeed, I fell head over heels in love! G told me about her travel adventures in India and Cambodia and I described my exploits in Vietnam and Thailand. She also relayed her experiences in Ecuador, at which point I was hooked! We shared a common interest in travel and learning.

G sparked my curiosity towards South America. She’d spent a year in Ecuador, a month in Brazil and Peru, plus a day in Columbia. Her stories galvanised me towards further travel.

As our friendship developed I learnt increasingly more about the Latin people and culture. It intrigued me. What’s more, it allowed me to spend more time with this beautiful, kind, gentle girl. Our burgeoning relationship and its emotional effect on me transformed my trip into something I never could have imagined.

Eventually, G discovered my love for her but this didn’t seem to damage our friendship. She understood. Her tolerance has taught me much about myself. We met soon after I’d stopped drinking and G helped me during the difficult moments. I was able to return the favour when she was struggling with her final exams. Our friendship intensified and we both realised this had to be resolved.

G had returned to her home in the north of England and I visited her for the final time in early January 2004. During my stay, the situation deteriorated as our relationship became destructive. We were driving each other crazy and it was affecting our friendship. I was constantly tearful and found being in her company heartbreaking.

I decided that the time was right to go back on the road; this time for eight months exploring the American continent. The trip presented the opportunity for me to explore and examine my feelings. It was the only solution. I acknowledged if I couldn’t resolve my emotions on the other side of the world, our friendship was over. G realised this too and I departed with a strange feeling in my stomach. I was on the verge of another magnificent adventure but, simultaneously, I was close to losing a true friend, something I’d experienced before. It was a watershed moment for us both. Could I maintain the friendship we’d built whilst living with the reality of unrequited love? G did love me, but only as a friend. Did I once again need to escape to pastures new? Only time would tell.

Chapter 2: Brasilia: Let it Rock!

On the morning of 8th January 2004, I began my latest adventure from my home town of Weston-super-Mare in southwest England. It was a slow beginning; the train jerked to life, moved a few yards and came to an abrupt halt! After several seconds of inertness, the train finally departed and I arrived in London two hours later. Railway staff assisted me with public transport to Heathrow Airport where Lufthansa Airways personnel escorted me through security and onto my flight.

Once aboard the plane I assumed my usual relaxed position and waited for take off. Some 12 hours later I arrived in Brazil; Rio de Janeiro to be exact — what a city! I became excited as the plane began its approach into Rio and, oh God, that landing! The plane banked and came in steeply over the Atlantic Ocean with the humidity approximately 90% and rain in the air. We passed over the enormous statue of Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor) with his outstretched arms standing proud atop Corcovado Mountain. Wow, what a view! I couldn’t see it, of course, but could imagine the setting and enjoyed the moment. Airport staff assisted me through immigration and attempted to find the transport I’d arranged to take me to the Albergue Vila Carioca Hostel, my lodging for six nights. However, nobody arrived. I phoned the hostel and explained the situation, they said to take a taxi and offered to pay the bill. I felt great, but also a little nervous. Once at the Albergue, I was welcomed to Rio by the receptionist Dan, a local friendly guy who showed me around. I had a top bunk in a six-bed dorm on the building’s upper level. I unpacked, stowed my bag and went in search of company. I met two girls from England, an eighteen-year-old and her companion whom was in her early twenties. They asked me the usual questions. What was my nationality? Why was I visiting Brazil? The obvious travel questions everyone asks that eventually become tedious. It’s part of travelling and I accept it, although occasionally my replies are a little flippant. When someone later asked me What brings you here? I replied, An aeroplane!

The three of us went to lunch at a restaurant only yards from the hostel. We had pizza, which was fun to order as we spoke only a few words of Portuguese between us! I was avoiding meat at this point in order to lose some weight and the girls were vegetarian, so asking for a meatless meal was a challenge! However, being in a new and unfamiliar environment with strangers battling with a foreign language relaxed me – I was in my element. I whiled away the afternoon asking questions, receiving idle comments from the eighteen-year-old who, frankly, knew little and didn’t seem to want to learn or do much. Helen, who was travelling around Brazil for two months and attempting to learn the language, was more receptive. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and a curvaceous figure that I discovered later! We hung out several times during my stay.

The hostel was located close to Sugarloaf Mountain and an approximate fifteen-minute bus ride from the major beaches of Copacabana, a name I eventually managed to pronounce, and Ipanema.

The radio station filtering through the hostel’s lounge played Brazilian music, a mixture of African blues and European sounds with heavy drums, soft strings and Brazilian vocals. A TV was available to watch football and trashy soaps. The inviting garden had a wooden deck with a small pool in which to dip your feet. Guests could relax, have a drink, smoke and socialise. It was here that I met my roommates; a couple from England, Tim and Dianne who were travelling around the world on an all-inclusive ticket, and a New Zealand girl named Sam.

During the late afternoon I decided to take a stroll to sample the atmosphere. I exited the hostel, turned left and began walking, confident I could retrace my steps using my memory. From the taste and smell of the salty air I knew I was near the ocean. Dan had told me Botafogo Beach was within walking distance although I discovered later it was also dirty and crowded. The walk allowed me to stretch my legs and get some air before the rain arrived. Naturally, I became lost and a local man who spoke no English helped me relocate the hostel. Luckily, I had a card on me that displayed the address. That evening, my first in Rio, I went samba dancing! Tim, Dianne, Helen and I visited a club in the nearby Lapa neighbourhood, one of Rio’s main cultural areas. The sound of silver cutlery on fine plates and glasses clinking emanated from trendy restaurants and bars pulsating with loud music. This is the place where you’ll find young, happy, friendly Brazilians partying the night away. But nothing really happened until after midnight. The club opened at around 12.30am and people began arriving. Later, it became hectic as a band played Samba music. Men, women and children of all shapes and sizes danced to the music and I was told they appeared very professional. Tim and Dianne said they were too intimidated to participate, but I was unperturbed and danced my ass off, gyrating my hips to the pulsating rhythm. It was electric!

Sometime in the early hours we left the club and took a taxi back to the hostel: one of the most thrilling rides of my life! I sat in the front and the others were in the back. We drove through eighteen red lights and took a corner like we were spinning on a sixpence; the driver didn’t even blink, but the sweat was dripping off my brow - what a thrill!

I spent the next few days familiarising myself with the city’s sounds and smells. Rio de Janeiro, meaning January River and nicknamed Cidade Maravilhosa The Marvellous City, is Brazil’s second largest municipality after São Paulo. Situated on Guanabara Bay (Baía de Guanabara) it boasts a population of approximately 6.3 million in the city and more than 12 million in the metropolitan area, many of whom patronise the beaches and clubs. The nightlife doesn’t usually begin until after midnight and often ends around 7.00 or 8.00 am with loud energetic music, eccentric samba dancing and much drinking. I chose to begin my journey in Rio, primarily because it was somewhere G hadn’t visited. Thus, it presented me with a completely independent perspective of Latin America. I was also hopeful that Rio’s plethora of attractions and entertainment might help me forget about the woman I loved; for a while, at least.

On my first full day in Rio, Tim, Dianne and I ventured to one of the beaches for some sun and surf. We caught a crowded bus to the city’s South Zone (Zona Sul). Tim and Dianne told me the bus driver drove so fast we were often inches/centimetres from hitting other vehicles; they said it was terrifying, but I enjoyed the ride.

(Brazilian drivers attempt to emulate Ayrton Senna da Silva, famous Brazilian Formula 1 racing driver, deceased 1st May 1994).

We headed to the world-famous Copacabana beach. It was hot, humid and overcast. I sensed the moisture in the air and the heaviness of the clouds. We relaxed on the beach, observing the scene as it unfolded in front of us. Tim and Dianne had also recently arrived so they had no more knowledge of the city than me. The scene was crazy: people everywhere, topless men playing football/volleyball, kids splashing in the water and many young women sunbathing in skimpy bikinis – this I discovered later! I removed my top, exposing my ugly white body for all to see, and stretched out on the hot soft sand. Men and women, known as abulantes, sauntered along the 2.48 mi (4 km) long beach, selling various items, ranging from cashew nuts and ice cream to raw oysters and fried crab and/or shrimp. Every variety of beverage was available and it was all so inexpensive. One man cooked hot melted cheese on a stick directly in front of us and sold it to me for 1 real (22 English pence). The commotion was relentless; abulantes talking to us in Portuguese and us not really understanding. It was marvellous lying on the sand listening to the waves crashing on the shore, getting sunburnt and relaxing, enjoying each other’s company. Tim and Dianne made a good impression on me, possibly because we were of a similar age.

Rio is an exciting and vibrant city, as I discovered during my six-day stay. Sam, the girl from New Zealand, and I ventured to the epicenter to sample authentic Brazilian cuisine on a couple of ocasions. There are buffet-style restaurants, especially good for vegetarians, known as comida por quilo, ‘food by the kilo’, where you’re charged according to the weight of food on your plate. It’s different, extremely inexpensive and never-ending. You can replenish your plate as many times as you can manage. The variety of food is amazing, including bountiful vegetable dishes and salads containing ingredients such as chopped carrots, yams, peanuts, okra, cassava (manioc), tomatoes and beans. Rice is plentiful, as are potatoes, which tend to be served mashed or fried with cheese. Okra or manioc are most popular and there is an abundance of meat and fish, which are often fried or smoked.

Brazil’s staple dish is rice and beans, whilst a popular rustic dish of Portuguese origin is Feijoada – a bean stew with pork/beef accompanied by rice. Brazilian chefs use black, white, pinto or red beans and add a variety of salted meats – including sausage, bacon and often two types of smoked beef. Vegetables such as cabbage, kale, potatoes, carrots, okra, pumpkin and sometimes banana, are added to the meat and everything is cooked together. Meals are often washed down with a bottle of Cachaça, a distilled spirit. Moqueca, which I sampled, is a stew comprising saltwater fish in coconut milk, tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro (coriander) and a little palm oil that are cooked slowly in a casserole dish. Dried shrimp, duck and/or chourico, a small, mildly spicy sausage are often included in dishes. Dendê oil, introduced by slaves from West Africa, is an important ingredient. Brazilian cuisine is rich, diverse and plentiful, differing from region to region. The delicious aromas emanating from the restaurants were mouth-watering! I sampled several delicacies including a cheese bun (chipá/pão de queijo), made from cassava/cornflower, cheese, milk, eggs, butter/oil. I ate pastéis de nata, Portuguese egg tart pastries, chewed a small, round vegetable similar to squash but also enjoyed the more familiar delights of pizza and several different pastas. The fish was excellent - fresh like the abundant exquisite fruit.

I drank lemonade and chilled with Sam listening to the vociferous crowd and absorbing the atmosphere. Day and night the streets vibrated with the rumble of traffic, honking horns and blaring music! The neighbourhood surrounding the hostel was relatively quiet but the main roads were pandemonium. Humidity was constant and the air stank permanently of exhaust fumes spewing out from the sea of vehicles, adding to the adrenaline-fuelled atmosphere of this pulsating metropolis.

I joined a sightseeing tour of the city one afternoon that included passing through Tijuca Forest National Park (Floresta da Tijuca) to visit the Christ the Redeemer statue at the summit of Corcovado Mountain - 2,329 ft (710 m) above sea level. The 125 ft (38 m) statue was, as usual, shrouded in mist. I found this ironic considering I couldn’t see him to begin with. I gained a sense of the mountain’s height and steepness as we ascended on the Corcovado Rack Railway. The train’s locomotion shook me gently as it advanced at an indeterminable speed. The viewing platform at the statue’s base is reached via 223 steps or a lift/elevator and escalators. However, that day, the clouds spoilt the view! We also visited the Maracanã Stadium, named after a small river in a nearby neighbourhood.

(In 1964 it was officially named in honour of the late journalist, Mario Filho, a supporter of the stadium’s construction.)

This impressive stadium opened on 16th June 1950 for the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) World Cup. As the host, Brazil played their matches there, losing in the final to Uruguay. Currently, it is used largely by Rio’s major football clubs as well as music concerts and other sporting events. The stadium, that has had construction problems since its inception, has been renovated for both the 2014 FIFA World Cup and 2016 Rio Olympics. We visited the old changing rooms and the Hall of Fame, where I stood in an imprint of Pelé’s feet - Brazilian football legend. Many other famous Brazilian footballers such as Romário, Zico, Zagallo, Sócrates, Didi and Garrincha also have their foot imprints. These names will be foreign to readers who are uninterested in football (soccer). I am; and so are the majority of Brazilians; indeed, they consider it a religion comparative to Catholicism! I’ve loved the game since I was a child. Therefore, visiting the Maracanã, inspecting the changing rooms and ascending the double-tiered stand of the imposing elliptical framework from pitch level was tremendous. I sat in the stand and imagined being present on match day when the 82,238 seater stadium would be full of cheering fans watching a game featuring some of Brazil’s finest talent. The atmosphere would be pulsating!

We visited several other popular attractions, including the modern but, allegedly, stylish Metropolitan Cathedral (built 1964-1979). The tour finished at Ipanema Beach in the city’s southern area. This fashionable seaside neighbourhood is another of Rio’s notable attractions, gaining global notoriety from the