I am going to briefly mention that we stopped of in Sucre (the actual capital of Bolivia) for a few days for a bit of a rest. As we decided to book a flight to Santa Cruz in order to avoid a fifteen hour bus on a gravel road so we had a few days to waste. Literally thats all we did! Had a stroll around( pete bought a retro casio watch - the hipster), caught up with a few friends and went out on a night out. I think the most strenuous thing I did was walk up to a mirador for some tiramisu and coffee. Mom, it wasn't a patch on yours though!

I was really looking forward to Santa Cruz as I was finally getting away from the altitude and the cold mountains. What a difference! Santa Cruz is known to be more Brasilian that Bolivian despite still been a fourteen hour train ride away from the border! The temperature, the people, the attitudes, it was insane. Santa Cruz does have a nice charm to it and with a huge leafy square where people just spend the day enjoying the heat it makes it all the more enjoyable. Unfortunately I didn't have much time to spend gossiping with the locals in the square. It was time for me to get the above train to the border to start a new adventure in the fifth country -Brasil.

While Pete and I were waiting in the station we were approached by three guys stating they were customs and they wanted us to follow them. The seasoned travellers that we both are asked to see some ID. He pointed to his two dollar hat that had the word 'Interpol' stiched into it and said that was his ID. We weren't budging so he went to get another police officer to confirm his legitimacy. The police man seemed even less professional and didn't even have a hat, just a blueish shirt. This was getting a bit ridiculous and one of the guys starting shouting. Eventually we went to their office around the corner, they checked our passports etc and everything was fine. However he did give us a lecture on how we should respect Interpol and believe them when they say who they are. Get proper ID and I will..

The border crossing from Bolivia to Brasil took a glorious three hours of queuing and paperwork. Usually its a simple form to fill out and a stamp - a five minute job. Honestly I just think that Brasil don't want the Bolivians in their country.

After spending three months in Spanish speaking countries I was confidident enough to be able to negotiate everyday tasks. However throw Brasilian portuguese in the mix and it's a totally new ball game! Some of the vocabulary is the same but my God the pronouncation is so difficult. It was like been back at square one which I found really frustrating.

Pete and I needed to get Sao Paulo in the next two days. With a total of twenty six hours of travelling that was ahead of us we didn't have much time to dilly dally (ha what a stupid phrase). To break up the journey we stopped in a great place called Bonito for a night. It would have been lovely to stay here a bit longer as there are loads of great trips such as rappelling, scuba and Pantanal tours. Although the hostel did have a swimming pool so I just lazed about in that for the best part of the morning. So after eighteen hours in Bonito (slept for about eight of those) we were on the road again. A six and fifteen hour bus later (save for a couple of drug checkpoints with some friendly, clearly identified police officials) I would be rolling into Sao Paulo the following morning - boom!