A LITTLE LESSON ABOUT URUGUAY

"Where are you?"
I'm skyping my sister one afternoon in Nico's room hiding from the midday sun, when she asks this question.
"Uruguay" I reply.
"Where the Hell is that?" She responds. As my sister thought that Africa was a country, her geography is not the best, but it turns out when I talk about Uruguay not many people know much about it at all. So I am now going to give a little lesson on this country that I have fallen in love with.

FACTS:

POPULATION: 3.5 million (Really small for south America).

AREA: At 176.125sq km Uruguay is the second smallest country in South America after Suriname

LOCATION: Uruguay is between the South of Brazil and the North East of Argentina.

CAPITAL: Montevideo. Almost half the population of the country live in the Capital.

* Most of the low-lying landscape (three-quarters of the country) is grassland, ideal for cattle and sheep raising.

* Uruguay is often called the Switzerland of South America for a stable democracy and social benefits such as free education.

* Although not a maritime nation, Uruguay is surrounded on three sides by water. Three rivers (the Río de la Plata, one of the widest rivers in the world; the Río Uruguay; and the Río Yaguarón), a lake (Laguna Merín), and the Atlantic Ocean border the country. The main port and capital city of Montevideo, founded in 1726, is situated on strategic trade routes.

* Even the name of Uruguay, first applied to the Río Uruguay, has river-related origins. Its etymology derives from either uruguä, a Guaraní Indian word meaning a species of mussel, thus Río Uruguay, "the river of shellfish"; or the Guaraní word components uru (a kind of bird that lived near the river); gua ("to proceed from"); and y ("water").


* I don't think there is a country that the British haven't invaded and yes that goes for Uruguay as well.  Between 1806 and 1807 the British invaded and took control of areas of the Rio de la Plata, even capturing Montevideo for several months from the Spanish.  This was because of the Napoleonic wars as Spain was an ally to France.  I wonder how different Uruguay would be today if the British had kept control?  Apparently there are still buildings left over from the British times.  Nico was going to show them to me but they were in a very dangerous area.

*During the 1970's Uruguay fell under a military dictatorship. According to Amnesty International, a private human rights organisation, under the military regime Uruguay had the world's highest per capita ratio of political prisoners: one in every 500 citizens. By 1980 many citizens had been detained and tortured at some point, and one in every 500 had received a sentence of six years or longer. Between 300,000 and 400,000 Uruguayans went into exile.

* It is probably right to say that Uruguay has been traditionally a more liberal country than the rest of the region. Historically, Uruguay has been a liberal country with a solid track record of reform.

It declared itself a secular state in 1917.
In 1913, it became the first in the region to grant divorces to women who requested them. In 1927, it introduced the vote for women.  This tradition continues today, With Uruguay being one of the first countries in South America to legalise same sex marriages, and abortions. On 10 December 2013, Uruguay became the first country in the world to legalise the sale, cultivation, and distribution of cannabis.

* Uruguay probably has the coolest president in the world. President José Mujica of Uruguay, is a 78-year-old former Marxist guerrilla who spent 14 years in prison, mostly in solitary confinement down a well. He lives simply and rejects the perks of the presidency. Mujica has refused to live at the Presidential Palace or have a motorcade. He lives in a one-bedroom house on his wife’s farm and drives a 1987 Volkswagen. “There have been years when I would have been happy just to have a mattress,” said Mujica, referring to his time in prison. He donates over 90% of his $12,000/month salary to charity so he makes the same as the average citizen in Uruguay. When called “the poorest president in the world,” Mujica says he is not poor. “A poor person is not someone who has little but one who needs infinitely more, and more and more. I don’t live in poverty, I live in simplicity. There’s very little that I need to live.” He also has an adorable three-legged dog, Manuela! Manuela lost a foot when Mujica accidentally ran over it with a tractor. Since then, Mujica and Manuela have been almost inseparable.

*And lastly Alfajor's!  Alfajors are the traditional biscuit of the area and I had a complete addiction to them.  If only you could get them in England, my life would be complete.  The best is the Milka Dulce de Leche ones. God! I miss them!!!!!

SPANGLISH!

It wasn't part of the plan. I was meant to be in Salvador sipping on cocktails and then trying navigate myself through the tropical jungles of the Amazon all the way to Peru, with plenty of scandalous stories I picked up on the way. Instead I find myself living in not the prettiest surburban area of Montevideo, with guy I have only know a couple of weeks, his mother and dog which is blind in one eye. Definitely not part if the plan. Once BB had gone, it was just me on my own. As I have travelled more on my own than with companions this didn't bother me. What did bother me was I missed Nico (Robert Pattison). After I had left the first time we had still emailed each other every day, and the longer it went on the more I wanted to go back to him. So that's what I did. I gave up the wonders of the Brazilian Amazon and the delights of Salvador for a man!

Now Montevideo wouldn't have been my top spot to go back to in Uruguay if it hadn't been for Nico. In fact my friend Lauren called it "The Swindon of South America!" but I think she was being biased as she had her bag stolen with everything in it, while traveling there. Though I had to admit it was not a terribly exciting city. The first week living back with Nico, his mother and the dog, didn't go too well. He had warned me he had to go to work, like normal people do. "No problem" I thought to myself "I can amuse myself!" The problem was I didn't. There are very few tourist attractions in Montevideo and I had seen what few there was to see on my last visit. I had no routine there or any idea what the locals did, so I ended up staying in all day on the internet, reading or writing. By the time Nico got home from work which was late, I was like caged animal. I was frustrated! I had not come travelling to stayed locked up in a house all day. I'm an Independent person who likes to do her own thing, but I felt trapped and totally reliant on Nico for everything. I took my frustrations out on Nico and arguments ensued. I thought I had made a huge mistake by coming back. "Maybe I should have run off to Havana?" I thought to myself. By the end of the week I was ready to leave and put it down as a bad experience.
"You haven't really tried or made an effort Carly!" Said Nico as I told him I was planning to hit the road again. Now I'm selfish, a bit headstrong, and stubborn but I am the first to put my hand up when I'm wrong. I thought about it! He was right, "I hadn't made an effort!" It was time to try, so I cancelled my plans. "Right!" I thought "It's time to go back to Spanish school!"

When I first came to South America I didn't speak a word a Spanish apart from the words "Gracias" and "Si" which any idiot knows? Everyone seemed shocked that I was going traveling to South America on my own and didn't speak any Spanish apart from me. Well that was until I landed in San Jose and spent over an hour in a taxi being lost because the taxi driver spoke no English and it seemed like no one else did either. Frustrating wasn't the word! So I booked myself into a two week intensive course in Costa Rica. Now I remember language classes at school; Mr Ellis stood at the front of the class shouting at us and writing stuff on the blackboard which we had to repeat like lemmings. Occasionally he would say something to me which I would look like a rabbit in the head lights as I hadn't a clue what he was saying and would mumble back something in half German and half English which made no sense at all and the rest of the class would laugh resulting in me turning red. This is how I remembered language classes. I didn't like them and I wasn't a natural. So it was kind of a big deal for me when I decided to go back to the class room to learn Spanish. From the moment I entered the room, the rabbit in the head lights look returned to me again but this time it was worse as the teacher never spoke any English. It was 2 weeks of Hell and feeling completely stupid. I wanted to cry most of the time and at the end of it I felt I hadn't learnt a thing, but slowly and surely on my travels things started to sink in, to the point I could get by which was a real achievement for me. Getting by was fine, but I wanted to be better, especially when Nico's mother didn't speak any English and I loved her so much I wanted to communicate with her more. Also Nico's father didn't really speak much English either as I found out the first time I met him. It was late one night and Nico had just got in from work. He didn't look happy. "My father wants to meet you" he said with displeasure. Nico and his Father don't seem to have the greatest of relationships and he didn't seem keen on me meeting him, but he relented for a easy life. We are sat at the dinning table in his fathers house eating empanadas. It all feels very formal. Nico sits like a sulky teenager peeling the coke label from a bottle not looking at anyone, while his father tries to speak to me in very bad English. It's all rather painful. We try speaking Spanish. I can't understand everything and then Nico speaks up with a translation. "He says he likes homosexuals!" I shoot Nico a look, as I know that's not what his father said and he's taking the piss. He just sits there still peeling the label but this time with a smirk on his face like a naughty child. I want to kill him. He's really not helping. As the awkward conversation continues Nico bursts in with another translation.
"He says he was kidnapped by UFO's and...." Before he can go any further I interrupt him.
"Nico that's not what he said! Will you stop it!" His father looks on a bit confused by it all and I want to be angry at Nico, but all I'm trying to do is not laugh as this whole situation is just silly. I tell him he should never become a translator, as he would be a nightmare. I guess this was just another reason to add to the list to improve my Spanish.

The first day I was nervous as I walked into the Spanish school building. I had to have an assessment to see what level my Spanish was at. One on one with a teacher for 3 hours, I was right to be nervous, but as she started firing questions at me in Spanish, instead of the wide eyed rabbit look that usually appeared, I sat calmly and answered the questions. I could understand her! What the Hell! Apparently my Spanish was OK! The next day I was put into a group lesson. I was warned before hand that I might be a little too advanced for the rest of the group. "What! Me too advanced for a Spanish lesson. Is this some kind of joke" I think "What are the rest of the class like?"
It turns out my new fellow class mates (all 3 of them) have a combined age of 100,000! Ok a little bit over the top, but they are old! Like really old! Ken and Liz a pensioner couple from Washington D.C have come to Spanish school not to learn Spanish, like you think most people would do when attending Spanish school but more for a social. I learn all about Ken and Liz's life: their vacations; their family; what they like for breakfast and what their political views are. This is all done in English with not even the slightest effort of trying to speak in Spanish. Marie my third class is a retired nurse from a Oklahoma. She is so nervous and shy its hard to understand her English never mind her Spanish, which is pretty bad. The three of them sit chatting away for hours in English while I try to smile and pretend it's ok through gritted teeth.
"How was your class today?" asks Nico when he gets home from work. "Terrible" I moan "I'm in a class with Donde Esta Monsters!"
What is a Donde Esta Monster, you ask? It's a phrase me and Nico coined to describe people that speak Spanish in a bad accent. It derives from the time I was in a supermarket in Costa Rica and over heard an America couple with the thickest Brooklyn accent shouting "Donde esta la narañja orange juice!" I remember being in stitches with laugher in the supermarket aisle. I would recall the tale to Nico one night re-inacting with my best Brooklyn accent. We both laughed and couldn't stop saying the sentence over and over again, laughing each time like children. This is how we came up with the term "The Donde Esta Monster!"
I lasted one more day in that class until my teacher said I was way to advanced and was moved to tuition on my own. I was happy at first but was going to miss the "Donde Esta Monsters", as they were highly entertaining. I'd come a long way from Mr Ellis's class room.

The days came and went. I got myself into a little routine. I would catch the bus to school everyday. I learnt which numbers I could take. I learnt which stops to get off at. I would buy a alfajor from the same shop on the way to school to eat on my break. I would wander the city sometimes after class trying to get my bearings of the city. Later I would sit in the garden and do my homework while sneaking a class of wine under the table at the same time, as Latin people don't drink much and I started to think Nico's mother thought I drank too much as I would have a glass of wine most nights. It was too hard trying to explain that English people drink all the time but where not alcoholics, in Spanish. Sometimes I would play with Mcshooney and wait until Nico got home. He would get home always give me a kiss, put his music on, roll a cigarette and we would just lay there hugging saying nothing until it was time to eat. It was one night, that I had a relisation. We were sat eating pasta at the table. Paco de Lucia the famous Spanish guitarist had died that day. Nico was a big fan and so was playing Tres Aguas, Paco de Lucia's most famous song. Thersita would come out and offer us more homemade cake and McShooney would sit loyally by us while we ate, waiting for scraps you might throw his way. It was at this moment in the little city of Montevideo; living with a guy I had met by sheer chance; with his mother; his dog with one blind eye; wearing no make up; no fancy clothes; living just the simple life; I realised I was truly happy. It was a wonderful feeling.

It was always lingering in the back ground that I would have to leave eventually. At times I told myself I didn't have to. "I could find a job here. There is always work for English speakers?" but in reality I knew I had to go. I had been fine until we reached the airport, as I had put my departure completely to the back of my mind, but when it came to say goodbye the tears started to flow from my eyes. He said he would come to London, that we would see each other again. I wanted it to be so, but deep down inside I knew the reality of it all. We were from completely different lives and cultures on the other side of the world from each other. This is going to sound crazy but I'm going to say it anyway. The first time I stayed at Nico's I left my hair band there. When I returned the second time I saw he was wearing it around his wrist. He told me he wore so that I was always with him and he could always remember me. I would look at that band on his wrist everyday and everyday it would get thinner. I started to see it as representing us; that when it broke so would we. It was like looking at sand going through an hour glass. I knew our time was running out. I cried at that airport because I knew I was never going to see him again. I cried because I knew he was never going to come to London. I cried because I knew we had no future. Now all these months later I know this to be true. I remember trying to grab my last glances of him as he went down the escalator and finally out of view. I think after I left that hair band finally broke and with it so did we.
Next stop Lima, Peru!

A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN ON EARTH: ILHA GRANDE

People travel for many reasons.  Some to find their inner self; some to learn and be cultural, others to party and have sex with as many people as possible! Some like myself are looking for something: We are looking for that little piece of heaven you can find on earth.  When you find this you see the world at its most beautiful and its the best feeling ever.  Addictive as well, because people always want a little bit more of heaven.
It was sad when Prue left but not strange as me and BB had travelled together before round India a couple of years ago on a very eventful trip, which included me collapsing with a chest infection and her getting a nose infection that spread to her eyes, which left them blood shot, so after that I think we could of coped with anything?  We decided to go to the Island of Ilha Grande 3 hours from Rio.  We sat on a cramped small bus, being flung around by a driver who thought he was the new Arton Senna, which really didn't help my hangover that I was trying to deny after another Caipirinha night.  As my head hit the ceiling for the God knows what time as we went over another bump too fast again,  I heard a bang from behind us.  The man sat behind us had dropped his  i Pad.   His eye caught our eyes and he then began;
"This driver is God Dam crazy. He is going to kill us!" he said in a very thick French accent and then began to laugh and the guy next to him started, followed by me and BB.  We got talking to them.  They were a French couple from Paris Medi and Nicola.  I could tell instantly they were gay and they were very open about it.  They were also extremely funny.  Medi who was originally from Algeria was the chilled one who took everything in his stride.  Nicola who was a harpist (One of the best in the world I was told) was a little bit more highly strung, and hated not being on time for anything, as he was getting stressed we were already late and were going to miss the boat for the island.  For the rest of the journey we chatted away with them and by the end of it they said:
"Girls! We must have drinks and food together tonight!  Lets meet by the tree over there, at 8pm and don't be late!"
Its 8pm we are sat at the tree where we said we would meet.  We have been here 5 minutes already to make sure we are not late, which was quite an achievement with BB as she is usually late.  Its is now 8.20pm and no sign of the French.  "We have been stood up! and by  2 gay guys as well.  Its not just straight men that our disappointing" I think to myself.  Me and BB decide to give up the wait and settle at the nearest table.  About 15 minutes later Medi eventually finds us at our table. He looks a bit worse for wear.
"I'm so sorry" he explains "well me and Nicola we went to the beach in the day and we decided to have a caipirinha and then we decided to have another one, and then another and the next thing we know we are completely drunk!"
"Drunk French people! Amazing" I think to myself "It doesn't happen enough!"
"Where is Nicola?" We ask.
"He's coming in a bit"
Surely enough, the man who never likes to be late turns up over an hour late. He is even more drunk than Medi and seems to be quite sun burnt too. We enquire if he is OK, as he orders another Caipirinha.
"I'm good, I had such a lovely day" he says merrily "We drank and lay on the beach and I was rolling around with lots of chickens!" He then proceeds to show us photos of him drunk frolicking around with lots of chickens in his swimwear.  He's completely mad and I love it!  They order more Caipirinhas  and become drunker and louder to the point that all the nearing tables stop and stare at the table of loud gringo's.  Its at this point I realise that our nations have had a role reversal.  Isn't it the English that are meant to be drunk, sun burnt and badly behaved, not the French?  The night carried on with more caipirinhas and their fun, great company.  French people are great fun when they want to be.

The next day me and BB decided to venture to the beaches for which Ilha Grande is famous for. To get to them you either had trek through the jungle for 3-4 hours in the blazing hot sun or you can do what we did and get a water taxi (Not really a hard decision)!  We decided to go Lopes Mendes which we had heard was the most beautiful of all the beaches.  The boat dropped us on the other side of a narrow bit of the island, as no boats are actually allowed to go into Lopes Mendes, so you have to trek across a hill for 30 minutes! "What a pain in the Ass!" I thought, as we set off on the trek.  Once again it being me and BB, we had set off in the midday sun, when most of the locals were walking back after a morning session.  Sweat was dripping from our bodies and I'm suddenly finding myself in a foul mood!  The good thing about finding heaven is, it doesn't matter how badder mood you are in: Heaven can change the worse feelings in the world into a moment of beauty, and that's what happened when I reached the end of that 30 minute trek, pouring in sweat, hot, thirsty and not feeling the best.  We saw a little bit of heaven on earth and it beamed at us in all its glory and any bad feelings I had, subsided and where replaced with this over whelming feeling of happiness, and you need nothing more than this.  Lopes Mendes was just as beautiful if not more, as everyone had said.  A long stretch of white sand for as far as the eye could see, bordered with turquoise clear waters which were crowned with deep blue skies.  There was not a building in site apart from a rustic life guard shack.  There were no boats, no tacky souvenir shops, bars or touts.  The few people there was either basked in the sun and the waves or hid from the heat under the palms that lined the beach.  Heaven it truly was, but words don't do justice to heaven, because to truly feel heaven you have to see it with your own eyes.

Its hard to figure out what to do with yourself after having a little taste of paradise of which me and BB had experienced that day.  So we did the next best thing we knew which was to head to the bar and have Caiparinhas!!! Me and BB where sat in the "Happening" bar of the island that night, quite content in each others company when a guy approaches our table.  He's tall olived skin with a mop of dark curly hair. He's also extremely confident.
"Hi ladies, me and my friends, wonder whether you would like to join us for a drink?"  Me and BB look at each other.  "Why not?"
We sit down at their table. The instigator David, who has a slight American accent, lives in Sao Paulo.  Another is Raphael who is tall, fair with a warm friendly comic personality and who is also carrying a graze on his cheek from a fishing accident early that day, and then there is Thomas!  They are all French, but I had already figured that out before.  Since I have started travelling I have this habit of scanning a room and trying to figure out where people are from.  I couldn't really tell from David; Maybe  a little from Raphael, but Thomas yes! I can tell he is French.  He has that brooding moody look and doesn't smile much.  So that makes him French!  I decide to call him "Happy" due to this.  I sit down opposite him.  "He does have beautiful eyes though!" I think to myself.  We start talking.  It turns out he has a good sense of humour too.  Actually he's quite funny.  After one too many Caiparinias we find ourselves at the beach, where for some reason David thinks its a good idea to go for a skinny dip.  I try to be terribly English and try not to look, but of course I can't help but catch a glimpse and its at this point that I realise that David is Jewish (Figure it out)!  As David wades back to the shore after his little outing in the waves, there is a group of local men waiting for him.  Now let me explain something.  Brazil is probably one of the most sexual places I have ever been on my travels, where everything oozes sex, people stand around in trunks and bikini's that leave very little to the imagination, and monogamy isn't a very popular word. All that said Brazil still prides itself on being very religious and family orientated, so God help anyone who decides to go naked in public as David was about to find out.  The men approached him straight away and start shouting.  David who seems quite drunk, doesn't really seem to give a shit, which I think annoys them more.  David lives in Brazil, speaks the language, and clearly knows the customs, and that doing something like this is going to get him in trouble.  He acts dumb and says he's on holiday from France and its OK to go naked in France, which it is (The French love to get naked).   There is a point where I think he might get lynched or a least punched in the face, until another local guy cuts in and calms the situation.  David dresses and we decide to leave the beach before he decides to strip off again.  The guys walk us back to our guest house and wander off up the road, saying they are off to do some star gazing.  What the Hell!

The next day me and BB decided to take a boat tour round the island.  Its eventful for the fact that we seem to get adopted by the Brazilian family on the trip with us who can't speak a word of English and we no Portuguese, which makes communication interesting. We also I realise that we can't tell straight men and gay from one another in Brazil as straight men seem to dress just as camp here, especially in the swimwear department.  That night BB goes to bed early as she is not feeling well.  I bump into the little guy who's name I can't pronounce, who works at our guest house.  Through my shit Spanish I make out that there is a Samba band playing at the church square, and he wanted to know if I would go with him.  I wasn't in the mood for an early night (rarely am) so I say yes.  We walk to the square and as he said, there is a band playing Samba music.
I soon notice that the little guy with unpronounceable name is flirting with me. As he comes up to my chest and there is a big language barrier I'm really not interested. I suddenly spy the Frenchies at a table in a bar next to the square, sipping on caipirinhas.
"Oh I have to go and say hi to my friends. Bye!" I say as I dash away from unpronounceable name. I've never been so glad to see French people in my life and have soon resided myself with them sipping caipirinhas at the table. I'm quite happy, great music, great drinks and great company. Well that is until someone starts a fight in the square and the next thing there is smashed glass everywhere and the local police whacking the hell out of people with their batons. This ends the music and the festivities. We sit through the whole fight still drinking our caipirinhas watching the whole spectacle as if it's some nightly performance put on for the tourists.
Later, after a few too many Caipirinhas (Caipirinhas seem to feature in this blog a lot!) I find myself alone near the beach talking to Thomas. I'm not quite sure where the others are as I'm feeling a bit blurry. I like talking to "Happy." I like his humour and we get on, and he has the most beautiful eyes. It's at this point I realise I'm completely attracted to him. Oh shit! He suggests he walks me home. As we are saying good night outside my guest house, we linger a little bit too long and the next thing I know we are kissing the faces off each other. I like it and he's a good kisser.  I don't know how long this went on for but then in the corner of my eye I can see David and Raphael coming up the path. I freak out and push him off and shout "Goodnight. Bye!" And run off inside like a scared school girl.
Now I can't really remember a lot of what happened next. Most of this account comes from BB telling me the next day, but it kinda of goes something like this. I stumble into the room and bang around a lot.
"BB! Are you awake?" No response.
"BB! Are you a sleep?" I shout
"I was!" Responds BB.
"I kissed that French guy! Thomas!" I say drunkenly.
"He has a girlfriend you know?"
"Yes! I know! What am I doing? I'm meant to be going back to Uruguay to see Nico? I like Nico don't I? BB am I a bad person?"
"No carls! Your drunk and Nico is not your boyfriend so you are a free agent! Besides Frenchie does have beautiful eyes!" She replies.
"I know he does doesn't he. I'm been thinking that for a while now! Beautiful eyes! Hiccup!"
"Right I'm going back to sleep Carls" responds BB.
More banging around in the dark continues until:
"BB!" I shout excitedly "There is a armadillo in the garden! Hiccup!"
"Carls!"
"No BB there really is. You have to come see the armadillo now!"
I'm practically dragging BB out of bed to come see this bloody armadillo. I think she did like seeing the armadillo though I think she would of like it more if it wasn't 4am.
"Can I go back to sleep now Carls?"
"Yes! Hiccup! BB! I kissed a French guy and we saw an armadillo! Hiccup." No response. BB has either passed out already or decided to ignore the annoying drunken person. I wake up the next day hugging my tooth brush and BB's mobile, still half dressed.

We returned to Rio for BB's last day and night before she returned back to London. After spending a lovely day once again on the beach we decided to head up into the hills to Santa Theresa the oldest part of Rio. We had met a girl local to Rio in Ilha Grande who had told us about a samba troupe who practiced every Tuesday ready for carnival in a community centre in a favela up in the hills. She had said it was a 'must' to see, so off me and BB went. We arrive at the community centre in the middle of the  favela. On first impressions it didn't seem that appealing, with a ram shackled group of musicians warming up in the hall. Hardly carnival! There is also an array of varying characters. There is a guy dressed like a woman, dancing and rolling around on the floor, who is obliviously high on crack or some thing? Then there is a young girl wandering around in a bikini top with so much attitude she looks like she might explode from it. My favourite though is the frail old black lady who can hardly walk and sucks on her gums because she has no teeth. Yes it's all a bit odd. Then something strange happens. The drinks start following, the music starts to play, more and more people arrive, the dancing and singing begin. It's infectious. Soon everyone is dancing including the Tranny and Granny who may not be able to hardly walk but she still knows how to move. The sunsets over Rio and I have this most amazing feeling. You see heaven on earth can present itself in many forms, it doesn't have to be white sandy beaches, or grand palaces.  I'm going to sound like the biggest hippy now,  but it's not about what you see or where you are, it's about the feeling it gives you. It's the feeling of being more alive than you have ever felt. So in a Favela in the hills above Rio watching the sun go down, listening to the sounds of Samba, with a dancing Tranny and a Granny I found another little bit of heaven on earth , that  gives me that alive feeling. I turned to BB and said "This is why I come travelling; for moments like this!"

The next day BB left and I was alone but not for long. Lauren (remember her?) my long suffering travelling partner from India was in town, as she was travelling around South America with four friends. She convinced me to come and stay at her hostel. Now Lauren is 9 years younger than me at the age of 25, but this has never really been a factor in our friendship due to the fact I'm still acting like I'm 21, or maybe not? I started to realise maybe I was starting to get older as I checked into the party hostel she was staying at. The first signs of this was checking into my dorm to find one of my new roomies fully naked as he had just got out of the shower. Well I guess that's one way of getting to know someone quickly? I am then informed by my other roomie Brad ( a Californian life guard that rather fancies himself) that the bed I am occupying was last night used in a threesome by the last occupant, an Argentine guy and 2 girls he picked up.
"Man I don't know how he fitted them  all in there but they were fucking away all night man! So jealous!" Brad continues, as I lie down unsure on my bed looking for stains and hairs! I must admit that when I couldn't sleep that night I did find myself thinking of how the Argentine had managed it, in such a small space and what positions he might have used to over come this problem!  In the meantime I have received an email from "Happy" and Raphael asking me to meet them for drinks that night as they are in Rio, which is great as I need to get out if the party hostel and I'm rather keen to see "Happy's" beautiful eyes again after my sudden departure the other night. I go and find Lauren, who fills me in on her misdemeanours of her past weeks in South America.
"Carly I have been so bad! I don't know what's got into me.  I have just been man mad!"
"If you recall Lauren I was hardly Mother Theresa last time I was here" I say thinking of my past exploits on my last visit "I think they put something in the water here? Speaking of which I'm going to have a drink and go and meet a French man tonight if you want to come?" This is said casually as an invitation, but the next thing I know Lauren has invited all the girls, she is travelling which is cool, but then they also seem to invite the whole hostel, to something that was meant to be a quiet drink!
"So where is this bar? Is it any good? What kind of music do they play?" Is what everyone keeps coming up to me and asking. I look a little bewildered, and tell them I haven't got a clue and I'm just meeting friends for a quiet drink. Two hours later (as that's how long it takes to get a nearly a whole hostel of people together!) we leave. I'm sat in the taxi fretting as it's taken so long to get out of the hostel with everyone, I'm very late and the Frenchies could of left and I have no phone to let them know. The taxis drop our huge group outside a little old fashioned cafe with an open front with a group of old men playing samba music inside. This is our destination, which I think is rather sweet. I spot Thomas and Raphael and feel glad to see them again, especially Thomas. The rest of my group seem less than impressed by the choice of venue. 
"Is this it? This is shit! Oh my God this is a major fail on your part Carly!" are some of the comments. I'm stood feeling a little bit embarrassed, in front of Thomas and Raphael.
"Right we are off to go and find a proper bar Carly. This place is crap! Are coming?" asks Lauren. I then realise I'm not 25 and I am quite happy to have a quiet drink and chat and not go and get pissed up downing shots till the early hours of the morning.
"No I'm going to stay" I reply.
"Really! I wonder why?" Says Lauren looking at Thomas. "He is cute and has really nice eyes" Lauren says a bit too loud for my liking.
"Shut up Lauren!" I say under my breath.
"Enjoy" she says as she leaves with a knowing smile on her face. My face is bright red by now.
I spend most of the night talking to Thomas and trying not too much to look at his eyes, but I'm glad I stayed. Towards the end of the night I find myself sat in another bar with them talking about travels. Thomas talks about how he wants to travel more. We get onto the subject of Havana in Cuba.
"I have always wanted to go. I need to go before Castro dies" I say.
"Me too. I really want to go" says Thomas.
"Why don't you both go together?" Says Raphael out of the blue.  I laugh.
"Why not? Thomas you want to travel more and you don't want to go back to Paris. Carly you want to go and you love travel. You should go together. Its perfect!" continues Raphael.
Thomas looks at me, "OK! Yes why not? Let's go!" He says in that very matter of a fact way the French have. It's at this point I realise he's not joking. I think he's serious?
"We can't! You leave tomorrow and you have a girlfriend and a job to go back to and I can't just change my whole travel plans, can I? It would be crazy!" I say a little speechless.
It's the end of the night and Thomas has walked me to a taxi and Raphael has conveniently disappeared again. It's that awkward moment when you are trying to say goodnight.
"Can I see you again tomorrow?" He asks.
"Yes" I reply and the next thing we are kissing each others faces off again. I'm sat in the taxi alone on the way home thinking "Why do you always get yourself into these situations?"
We arrange to meet the next day in a bar. This time Thomas comes alone. We talk for a bit and decide to walk to the beach. As we walk the subject of Havana comes up again.
"We should go. Why don't you come with me to Texas tonight on the plane and then we can get to Havana" he asks.
"I can't! I met this guy in Uruguay I'm meant to be going back to see him. I like him and besides you have a girlfriend remember?" I retort.
"I really like you!"
"I like you too!"
"Then you have a decision to make. You can either go back to Montevideo or we go travel together?" He says.
I don't know what to say. It's this kind of crazy stuff that I love. The impulse! Every part of me wants to go and buy a ticket to Havana. We walk a long the beach.
"You should go for a swim" he says. I suddenly feel quite shy at the thought of stripping off to my bikini in front of him, which isn't like me and I think he senses this as he says "You nothing to worry about, you look good in a bikini. Your perfect!"
I should have told him I wasn't perfect, far from it, but for once I'm speechless. No one has ever called me perfect before. We sit and watch the waves, and talk, then lay there, until our time has run out. I walk him back to his hostel.
"Don't go to Texas. Stay here with me. We can go to Paraty together!" I blurt out in desperation as I realise I don't want him to leave, but we both know it's not going to happen. We kiss goodbye one last time and I get into a taxi.  As  the car pulls away I wind down the window and shout,
"Good bye Happy! Always remember to be happy!" He waves and smiles goodbye.
A week later I get an email. It's Thomas.
"I want to come back please" he says.
I tell him it's too late, that he should of never got on the flight. I'm back with Nico in Montevideo. The decision has already been made. I'm not going to lie though; I often think of what it would have been like running off to Havana with a French man with beautiful eyes, but I guess I will never know sadly.
Next stop Montevideo again.