Fear and loathing and Larium dreams in Rio

Dear diary

I think we were somewhere around rio de janeiro when the larium began to kick in. But loved ones may be pleased to know that since we last met Lindsay and I have not done anything
- risky
- dangerous or
- potentially life threatening

In summary- Rio is a beautiful place - I think this may be the most aesthetically pleasing big city i have ever been to. Even Cape Town would come off second best. The view from Pan de Açucar (sugarloaf) is outstanding in all 360 degrees, especially at sunset. The way of life is fantastic, aided by the size of copacabana and ipanema beaches which mean that everyone can have a slice of the action. There are favelas on most of the hills and these generally enjoy the best views of the city. A city bye-law prohibits the building on green hills so all of the illegal dwellings are in the prime real estate areas. Everyone is allowed to have fun here, and unlike most big cities this also includes people with no money. All you need is a pair of speedos. The Latino penchant for tight, small swimwear is well documented, so I won't go on about it here, and suffice to say I don't approve of the practice, but then I'm not the mayor of Rio.

There is plenty to do and see but unfortunately Rio has a bit of dodgy reputation for being crime ridden. Consequently we have mainly done things recommended by the Lonely Planet or the Rough Guide. As such we have been surrounded by gaggles of tourists of all ages and nationalities, most of whom own camera lenses which cost more than my house.
At the Christ the Redeemer statue up the Corcovada (hunchback) mountain you literally couldn't move for self important yanks and the Brazilian upper classes. I actually trod on somebody's knee as he was part way through a contortion designed to capture his loud and odious girlfriend mimicking the Redeemer's pose. Apart from being blasphemous to the catholic faith it made me want to tread on more than his knee and I was tempted for a moment to grab his backwards baseball cap and throw it over the side. Such bouts of rage are completely normal for even the mildest mannered person who is more than 4 weeks into a course of Malarone. Lariam's reputation for giving the victim weird dreams is well documented, and I don't think it is my imagination that i am more irritable when taking these anti malarial drugs.

I'm unreasonably irritated by the fact that most cariocas (rio natives) dont speak english and i can't understand any of their language either. Even when I know what they are about to say and I am expecting it, it doesn't make any sense. A woman we met said that she has been trying to use her Spanish with a 'Sean Connery accent' and this seems to be the closest thing to the truth I have heard on the subject.

I am also unduly concerned that the mosquitos here are too fat to fly. I saw one galloping across my pillow in this dishevelled hostel last night and when I swatted it the thing just exploded like a grapefruit being hit with a cricket bat. The bed clothes then resembled a butchers shop window. There was blood everywhere.
This hostel isnt particularly clean anyway. i bet there are worse places in rio but few of them are given 5 stars by the rough guide. Lindsay is apoplectic about the value for money. Sure its a private room, but at 180 reals per night (about 65 quid) there must be better value for money around. The silverfish here are as big as horses. I hope I don't meet one in the corridor because there won't be room to move past. There are parasites on the silverfish that are bigger than rats.

My Larium rages are getting worse. My fellow travellers (excluding Lindsay) are starting to irritate me as well, which is not such a good sign.
The bus from rio to Angra Dos Reis today stopped for a toilet break. As I was sauntering up the ramp to the banhos an old gringo traveller type barged in front of me. I was so startled that I didn't have time to react with a nudge back at his ribs or even a belated, sub standard cutting remark. Instead I resolved on the cowards way out. And so the concept of 'The diary of World Traveller Man Part I' was fleshed out. I will type the first chapter from the 180 real (again) private room in an Ilha Grande hostel.

Ps. Don't be deceived by the gonzo posturing- we're having a great time :)