The girl from Ipanema

Last week we celebrated the extra day of leap year by boarding a plane to Rio de Janeiro for a final fling before returning to the rigours of the new school year this week (more about that to follow)...
It was a fabulous trip to what must be one of the world's most naturally beautiful cities. Situated on a sprawling bay overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Rio is a metropolis with protruding hills and palm trees along miles of sweeping, golden beaches...all under the out-stretched embrace of Christ the Redeemer on one side and the imposing Sugar Loaf Mountain on the other. As we left the airport heading into the city we looked up and saw huge dark birds circling and gliding overhead... just one of the signs that we were somewhere new, exciting and exotic.
Exotic is probably a word which sums up Rio rather well, from its landscape, its vegetation, its tropical climate, its scantily-clad inhabitants to its food and cocktails, all of which we encountered at some point during our stay. Due to the Brazilians having already adjusted their clocks (an aspect which wasn't entirely clear to us for the first day and a half), we were in the same time zone as Santiago but suddenly in quite different surroundings and climatic conditions. While Santiago is warm and dry though cool at night, Rio was hot and humid all day long which was rather uncomfortable at first. Also this meant that indoors the air-conditioning was invariably set at full blast therefore also not ideal (a scarf or cardigan was essential extra clothing). Needless to say we tended to prefer the natural environment outdoors and just tried to keep ourselves hydrated as far as possible, although the inevitable traveller's tummy struck its evil blow (fortunately limiting itself to DH and myself, thus sparing us the agony of sick children on holiday). Interestingly there were very few families on the tourist trail but lots of gay and straight couples and also young adults in general.
We managed to strike a reasonable balance by aiming for half a day of sightseeing activities in the morning and spending the rest of the afternoon on the beach. The sand on Ipanema beach was as fine as golden flour, while at the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain it was more like brown sugar. The girls were happy either way, busily digging and burying, shaping and constructing. Meanwhile the water of the Atlantic was turquoise and clean although the waves were often huge and the pull of the undercurrent dangerously strong.
One of the most memorable moments of the trip came as we were finishing lunch in Santa Teresa, a bohemian area on a hill whose cobbled streets and inviting shops, cafes and art galleries wouldn't look out of place in a fashionable part of London. A trio featuring a trombonist, an acoustic guitarist and a pianist began softly playing authentic bossanova which perfectly captured the mood and setting. We managed to linger at our table for long enough to savour the magic while the children attempted to take photos of the musicians until DD2's wriggling and fiddling with the trombonist's microphone became too much and we had to leave the establishment to remove the disturbance... Maybe Rio is more of an adult destination, though the girls loved the train ride up the Corcovado to see the statue of Christ and the cable cars up Sugar Loaf went down very well too. Plus the incredible beaches... An unforgettable and essential part of the South American experience for all of us.

Weekend at the beach

It has to be said that a rather wonderful aspect of living in Chile is the possibility of taking off for the beach for a weekend in January. Of course January here is the meteorological equivalent of July in the northern hemisphere, thus you begin to imagine the crowds, the difficulty in finding suitable accommodation, not to mention the traffic on the motorway... However, undeterred, we booked ahead and set off bright and early on Saturday morning for our chosen destination of Quintay, a picturesque and largely unspoilt fishing village with a tiny bay frequented only by fishermen, divers, the odd adventurous (or foolhardy) family and lots of seagulls. It was dull and overcast when we arrived, almost reminiscent of the English seaside were it not for the dramatic landscape, including valleys of fertile vineyards one passed en route to the almost vertical slope we had to walk down (and later up again) to get to the sheltered cove at Quintay itself. After a quick wander around the miniscule beach (dodging the stray dogs) we headed for a hearty fisherman's portion of fish and chips, Chilean-style (no batter, enormous quantities) and very good it was too. As we were settling the bill and ready to reach for the buckets and spades, DD2 announced she didn't like beaches after all, which was rather a bad omen for the two days we had planned of exactly that...
We attempted to begin to digest our lunch by visiting the ex-whaling station, now a vacant, shell of a museum mainly containing black and white photos testifying to its somewhat unfathomable past incarnation. As so often happens in Chile, the sun suddenly emerged from behind an apparently impenetrable layer of cloud to produce an absolute scorcher of an afternoon, thus we hurried to Playa Grande, a nearby stretch of golden sand which became more and more full of holidaymakers as the day went on... We had only just remarked on how peaceful it was when at around 4pm a sound system was plugged in and a DJ began blasting what can only be described as beach house music to a not completely gratified public...
By evening we were too happy and tired to care much that our cabaña, while recommended in two of our guidebooks, had in fact been a disappointment in terms of cleanliness and hygiene which may have been why some of us didn't have the best night's sleep...
The next day we set off further down the coast for Isla Negra, not an island but a locality so-called for its clump of dark granite rocks along the beach and also home to one of Pablo Neruda's houses, now a museum of the poet's eccentric and extravagant personal items collected from his travels around the world. Unfortunately choosing to visit Neruda's house in Isla Negra on a Sunday in January was a little like choosing to visit Shakespeare's birthplace on a Sunday in the summer months, that is to be avoided at all costs due to hordes of people, long queues and the selling out of tickets... Never mind we thought, a great excuse to go back to visit this little gem at another time of year. Instead we made straight for the beach which was beautiful and very atmospheric although made up of fine pebbles therefore not as interesting for more advanced construction purposes. However we still managed to keep busy for an entire day, making stone soup and tea amongst other delights and contemplating the ocean, whose icy water we paddled in but could not swim in. Clearly Chileans are made of sterner stuff than some of us...