The drive from Buzios to Rio was actually quite pleasant, even though it was the same 'playstation trained' driver, it somehow seemed less scary in the day-light. As we crossed the huge bridge that takes you into Rio De Janeiro, he popped in a bossa-nova CD, and we grooved along, through the city, to our hotel on Copacabana Beach. The view from our balcony was fantastic again, we could see the top of Corcovado Mountain and the famous Christ statue and Copacabana...

It was a long transfer from Bahia to Buzios, starting with a sweaty dash along the beach, and finishing with a terrifying three-hour car trip from Rio, the guy transferring us had obviously learned to drive by playing 'Grand Theft Auto' on his playstation! I hadn't expected to like Buzios, it's known as the 'St Tropez of South America', and I expected it to be full of rich idiots, like Abersoch or Padstowe. During the Brazilian holidays, it's probably unbearable...

We'd been told the boat-trip to Morro Do Sao Paolo could be a bit rough, so I wore my 'bracelets', and popped a couple of travel-sick pills, I was 'out of it' so quick, I could have been on a rocket to the moon, for all I knew! Sal wasn't impressed, though, having a zombie for company during the 3-hour crossing. Well, at least I wasn't puking! The transfer to our hotel on the island concluded with a pleasant walk through the town, with it's sandy streets, and a ...

Arriving in Salvadore on a wet, but warm, Sunday night was disconcerting. Looking out of the windows on the drive into town from the airport, the place looked run-down, and full of dangerous-looking nutters. People were stumbling out into the road, and when the car stopped at traffic lights, they knocked on the drivers window. It really did feel like a zombie movie, a Brazilian '28 Days Later'! Even Maria, the Argentinian guide, appreciated how scary it appeared ...

From living in a jungle hut, and tramping 'round the Argentine rain-forest, we went to colonial luxury at Iguazu Falls, Brazil. We felt like vagrants rolling up at the Hotel Das Cataratas, smelling of camp-fires, with mud on our shoes, but no-one batted an eyelid. Imagine turning up at a posh hotel in the UK, looking like Ray Mears, after a particularly taxing expedition! We dumped our stuff, and decided to go straight out and look at the falls, as the hotel was...