South America | A Tale or Two to Tell......

” We are Inca, children of the sun….. our father the sun, our lord the sun.…. ”

This is a line in a song I was taught as young girl at primary school in Sydney Australia.

We performed it as part of the combined schools choir at the Sydney Opera House. I remember how exciting it was listening to hundreds of voices singing that line, chanting it over and over, getting louder and louder as it echoed off the walls of the concert hall and built in momentum. It sent chills down your spine.

At the time, Inca to me were some mythical magical creatures, not a real lost civilisation to be found in South America.

Many years later I set off to find this lost civilisation, trekking the famous Camino Inka, to the City of the lost Incas.

This is a place that is mountain after mountain after mountain, and I was climbing them, one after the other after the other.

One mountain was very appropriately named ” Dead Woman’s Pass“, found at a cool (literally) 4,200 metres above sea level. This is the summit reached on day 2 of the trek. It is imposing as all hell, it’s steep, the air is thin, and to get there you literally shuffle up that mountain, stopping constantly for “air” or to catch your breath.

It really was breathtaking on more than one level, as the scenery changed from rainforest, to cloud forest to alpine. Stunning natural beauty.

I am having some serious flashbacks to that time. It was an extraordinary experience !

* Sorry for the dodgy photos taken with the best “point and shoot” camera in those days 😉

Brasil: Land of the world famous carnaval, cachaca, buff bronzed bodies, Copacobana beach, the bold, the beautiful, soccer, slums, fiestas, samba, plastic surgery, havaianna’s, that epically enormous critso luz, caipirinhas ( sensing the booze theme here?) , voluptuous bottoms and verrrrrry skimpy bikinis.

Adventure: Not something I seek on the extreme level. But something that tends to hunt me down at every turn.

Combine these together, and I bring you one hell of a story !

All this recent reminiscing and reflecting has bought about some wonderful and certainly amusing memories, this one in particular being a real beauty !

Going back some 12 years ago now, I was just preparing to start a 2 month adventure. Destination: South America. I was joining my friend from Argentina on a little adventure. My first time on the continent and I had no idea what to expect. Exciting.

Oooh can I tell you a tale or two from that trip……

After travelling through Peru and Argentina, we spent a week in the small coastal holiday town of Camboriu in northern Brasil. In true 23 year old ” I don’t have a care in the world ” style, the night before we were due to leave we got heartily stuck into the potent cachaca pineapple cocktails, dizzily salsa-ing the night away, completely absorbed into the festive Brasilian lifestyle. What a life.

The next morning I awoke foggy, hungover and with no sign of my friend J in sight.

Moments later, there she is knocking at the door.

It turns out that after getting me to bed she had walked our friends out with the door locking behind her. In my alcohol induced comatose state I had not heard her incessant knocking, and she had to alert the building manager to plead for a bed in another apartment for the night.

Oops-a-daisy !

Great start to the long journey we had this day.

The day ahead involved an 18 hour bus ride from Brasil to Argentina.

18 hours. Hungover. With no food. And in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Joy.

Add to that the dodgy types such border crossing trips seem to attract and the reputation of Brasilian bus drivers as being some of the worst in the world and you have yourself one hell of a journey.

Fortunately for me I managed to sleep through most of the trip, waking as we pulled into the border town in Argentina.

Being a local to the area, my friend J had arranged for an old family friend to pick us up. What a kind man he was. The father of a family in her home town.

You are probably wondering what on earth all the fuss of this story is about, well here it comes.

As we are loading our bags into the boot of our car, I look up to find we are surrounded by men who are holding rather large shot guns !

Christ almighty.

Now most normal people would be absolutely crapping themselves stupid at the thought and in reflection, I really should have been, but I was simply far too tired, far too hungover, and far too hungry. Not many other emotions get a look in when I am in this state of affairs.

Within minutes we are ushered into the car, and in jumps the leader. There is a rapid fire of frantic conversation going on in Spanish at this point. I couldn’t catch a word.

What the hell is going on, where are we going. Who are these people ? Police ? Military ? Bandits ? Had Mr Family man done something wrong ? We had visas, what was the problem ?

Just to paint the picture for you a little more, in this part of Argentina its very rural and arid. Its like a giant dust-bowl of red dirt and desert like scenes. It is hot, it is dry and there is not a lot of life around. It is remote and desolate. Much like the small building we arrive at.

As it turns out, this is the local police station.

Great. Corruption and bribery spring to mind when I think of South American Police. We’d had a few dodgy encounters on our travels, this however was so far to be taking the cake.

Still with no idea of what is going on, I follow silently as we are ushered from the car and into a prison cell. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I have been inside a South American Prison cell. Now that is one thing that was never on the “list”.

Thankfully my time “inside” was to be short lived as within minutes we are back out of the cell and at the boot of our car where ” the leader” as I will call him, demanded we empty our bags.

Please note that to this moment I had not spoken a word. Very unusual for me. I simply did not know what was going on and couldn’t understand what was being said. There had not been time for my friend to explain. It was all unravelling very quickly.

As I watched my freshly washed and folded clothing being thrown into the red dirt, I began to feel that starving, hungover, lacking in sleep inner “monster” arise in me.

Please note that I had never expected myself in such a situation ever, but I would have thought a certain amount of fear would be present inside me in a moment like this. However at this moment , not so…..

” What are you doing ” I grumbled as I start picking my belongings up off the ground and start shaking the dirt of them angrily huffing and puffing as I do so….

The Leader stops, looks at my friend, I hear the word ” Australia” mentioned, I flash my passport, the boot is swiftly closed, we are all bundled back into the car with Mr Leader, speed to the bus station and Mr Leader is gone without a word.

Right then.

*******************

” Drug couriers ” I exclaim loudly !

The scene had now been explained to me. We had been detained for being suspected drug couriers.

As Mr Family Man had been waiting for us at the bus station, two men had approached him to ask where the bus from Brasil would be arriving. He spoke to them momentarily.

It was this encounter that led the undercover police following these men to believe that we were in fact two drug couriers who had been expected to cross the border on our bus.

Oh my lorrrrrrd.

To this day you hear and read of horror stories in these parts of the world, but to be living one was far from my list of things to experience in South America.

On my life long list of adventures, I shall give it a giant big tick for ” been there, done that – lived to tell the story”. However I think it warrants a “x” rather than a “tick” for successful achievement.

Was there a moral to this story ? I really am not so sure. But what I do know is that the proceeding toasted cheese and tomato sandwich was one of the best of my life.

When my baby…..when my baby smiles at me I go to rio…… de janeiro….