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Hello!
This is a very sad occasion, as it is my last blog.I suppose if I feel nostalgic I could write about the exciting things I'm going to do after my trip, such as going to the hairdressers and trying to find a phone, but I doubt people will find that very interesting.
I left off my last blog, which probably needs rewriting, with the drama of my flight ticket. This was Saturday, and I had until Monday to go back to the office to hear something definite. I can't really remember what I did for the rest of the day, other than eat enough to feed a small family, wander along the seafront at night-time (I later read in Lonely Planet that I was cautioned against doing this as I would certainly get mugged or attacked or something), and go to bed ridiculously early. I also made friends with Anna, a bubbly brunette from Worchester, who had been living at the hostel rent-free for two months because she worked in the bar for a couple of hours a night, a pretty sweet deal. Needless to say I was quite stressed about the situation with my tickets. I did realise however that Rio is a stellar city, in fact probably my favourite (after London). I could easily live there. Well, if I could speak Portuguese. They have everything; old buildings, new shopping centres, free museums, cool bars and restaurants, a beach, mountains, and I was there in winter when the sun was shining and it was 25C, so good weather all year round.
The next morning, after managing to sleep despite seemingly having the record holder for the World's Loudest and Weirdest Snorer in the bunk below me, I was hanging around trying to decide what to do with the day when I met Rachel and Sam from Scotland. They were heading up to Santa Teresa, somewhere I wanted to explore but was wondering if I could be bothered to go as it was quite a trek (remember by this point I'd been on the road for almost eight months and very ready to go home, so my enthusiasm for random sightseeing was waning). That was perfect, so we set off together. We had to get the metro to the centre and then a 'bonde' up the hill to Santa Teresa. The bonde is a tram system which used to cover all of Rio; I suppose it was rendered redundant after the metro system came in. The bonde up to Santa Teresa is the only one remaining. We had to wait an hour to get on one as they are very small and only come every half hour or so (you kind of see why they're not popular, it's fine for a tourist gimmick but imagine how annoying it would be if you were trying to get to work). Rachel and I got seats but Sam decided to get into the spirit of things by hanging off the side. There are handles and little foot ledges on the sides and the locals just tend to jump on and off when they want. The foot ledges are very little indeed and Sam seemed to regret this decision quite quickly, especially when we travelled across a very high bridge over a motorway. The bonde is very old and rattley, but fun to ride on.
I really loved Santa Teresa. It's at the top of a hill and it's full of trees, old characterful buildings, cute little cafes, and it's got a very suburb-type feel. Having said I could live in Rio, Santa Teresa is the neighbourhood I would live in. As it's at the top of a hill it also gives stunning views across the whole of the city; from the big Jesus (which has a proper name which isn't Big Jesus) and Pao de Asucar (Sugar Loaf, another big hill, which seems to be famous just because it's a hill), to the beach, some skyscrapers and the airport. There was a place called Parque de Ruinas which was an old mansion belonging to an heiress who used to hold parties for artists, writers, musicians and the like. The basic structure of the house still stands but there are no floors inside so they've put metal stairs and Perspex up so people can walk around. The best views were from up here. If I had a lot of money I would buy that house and live there. And learn Portuguese. Santa Teresa was a nice place to just wander around, which we did for a while before having lunch. Unfortunately I forgot my camera, so I have no pictures, which is a shame. I can take some when I go back and buy my house…..
The next day I set off again first thing to STA (it's actually STB in Brazil because I have learnt, to my detriment, it is not the same company as STA. Same same, but different) to try and sort out my tickets. At least this time they weren't busy and the receptionist knew what to do with me. At first the guy told me there was no way I'd get the ticket because there wasn't enough time; it took two days for this and another two days for that, so they could get the ticket here for Friday. Helpful, but my flight was on Wednesday, which comes before Friday don't you know. He said, "I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do". Now, here I got a little upset, which caused him to go back in the office and come out two minutes later with the news that perhaps they could do it; there was no guarantee, but they could try. I filled out the form and handed over my cash, and just had to wait to hear. At this point I thought I probably wasn't going to get my ticket and I'd be stranded and need to buy a new one, so I was feeling quite dejected.
As I toddled back to my hostel, I accidentally re-enacted Breakfast At Tiffany's when I was distracted by a jewellery shop window whilst having a snack. Then I remembered that good old Lonely Planet mentioned something about a jewellery shop museum in the area, and after a swift consultation it turned out to be the same place (Amsterdam Sauer), so I went inside. This is probably the best thing I could have done to cheer myself up. Firstly I was escorted around and shown all the different gemstones, and then I was taken up to the showroom. It's a really posh jewellers, and most of the customers are quite wealthy. It really wasn't a museum of the sort I was expecting (a few fusty old bejewelled objects in glass cases) because it was definitely more a shop than a museum. I obviously wasn't one of their target customers, shuffling around in my clothes which were falling apart with my rucksack, and in answer to the question, "which hotel are you staying at, Madam?" I replied, "Rio Backpackers". But in spite of this, they were really nice to me. I had to explain "I wasn't quite in the market for anything at the moment" but the man still let me try on (in fact he made me) some of the pieces and then wished me a good day. When I came out I realised there was another one next door (H Stern), so I thought I may as well go there too. This one was even better. Firstly, it had more displays and I actually learnt quite a bit about gemstones, plus they had people making the jewellery at different stages which you could view through two-way mirrors. Then I had a free drink whilst being shown some items, was able to try on a £3000 emerald and diamond ring ("I'm afraid I'm not quite in the market….") and on top of that got a free ride back to my hostel in a fancy car with blacked out windows. I definitely left in a better mood, and spent the rest of the day reading on the beach.
On Tuesday morning, having had no email about my ticket, which the guy had promised he would send as soon as he had news, and I was viewing the lack thereof as a bad sign, I yet again went back to STB. I was getting well known by this point. Apparently I'd had no email because there was no news, which didn't necessarily mean I wasn't getting my ticket, just that the Sao Paulo office hadn't heard back from STA. I was not hopeful. No jewellery shops today; I considered going back to H Stern just so I could get a free ride, but decided that would be cheeky. I actually tried to take a shortcut on the way back, got lost and ended up wandering in circles for an hour or so. It was a very sunny day so I went back to the beach. I was planning on seeing some more of the city but the whole walking to the office and back every morning took about two hours (more if I got lost) so I wasn't in the mood to go wandering around for the hell of it. I checked my email at the end of the day and finally had one from the STB office. My ticket had arrived just after I left in the morning! So it actually took a day in the end, not a week. I was, needless to say, very happy about this, as I really thought I wasn't going to get it. I celebrated by watching Harry Potter with the hostel crowd, which incidentally was really good. (The hostel crowd, not Harry Potter. Not that I dislike Harry Potter, I was just referring to the other….)
Now, as I was banking on the probability of not getting my ticket, I had mentally prepared myself for this and was in that sense kind of unprepared for actually leaving. I think I was expecting something to go wrong right until the end. But everything actually went incredibly smoothly. I got the bus to the airport, checked in, got my boarding card, etc, and the next thing I knew I was in London. From there I got the Megabus up north. I had a bit of last minute excitement in the form of an hysterical 19 year old sitting next to me, who was in tears because she missed her stop in Sheffield and had to go an extra 10 miles or so down the road to Barnsley and make her way back. I was sympathetic as she was really upset, but I couldn't quite see the cause for the drama, even if I hadn't spent the last eight months on very long bus journeys to places I'd never heard of.
So I'm at the end of my journey, and I feel I should say something insightful and philosophical about what I've learned and how I've changed as a person, but I'm still a bit jet-lagged and my brain isn't working too well at the moment. Perhaps I can write another blog about all that later. At the moment I'm just very happy to have tea, clean clothes, and to be able to speak the same language as everyone else.
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