Garotta z Ipanemy / Garotta from Ipanema

Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Bezdomni susza ciuchy / The homeless drying their clothes
Rio centrum / Rio downtown
Bieda na ulicach / Poverty in the streets
Katedra / Rio Cathedral
Katedra w srodku / Rio Cathedral inside
Dzielnica Santa Teresa - tramwaj / Santa Teresa nieghborhood - streetcar
Dzielnica Santa Teresa - muzeum tramwajow / Santa Teresa nieghborhood - streetcar museum
Stadion Macarana / Macarana stadium
Centrum / downtown
Centrum / downtown
Ipanema
Ipanema
Ipanema
Ipanema
Ipanema
Dziewczyny z Ipanemy / Girls from Ipanema
Asia i Raquel (syfne zdjecie, ale i syfny aparat :) / Asia with Raquel
Kosciol / Church
Palac cesarski / Emperor's palace - Rio
Rio centrum / downtown Rio
Plac Ghandiego / Mahatma Ghandi square
Budynek Petrobras / Petrobras building
Rio - Katedra / Cathedral
Rio - ul. Rio Branco / Rio Branco street
Ja i capairinha na plazy / Me sipping Caiparinha at Copacabana
Aska z karnawalowiczem / Aska with a carnival dancer
Rio - kosciol ; churh

Boliwijski pociag okazal sie calkiem fajny. W przewodniku pisza, ze to nieslawny Ekspres Wschodu, czyli Pociag Smierci, ale nie wiem, jak mozna wymyslic tak glupia nazwe bez powodu. No, chyba ze jedzie sie bez klimy, jak pozostali... wtedy tak. Mial faktycznie klime (ktorej nie docenialismy, ale o tym potem), calkiem nowe filmy na dvd (oczywiscie piraty) i obsluge cateringow (niestety platna) :)) Siedzenia wygodne, wiec 16 godzin minelo jak z bicza strzelil (no, powiedzmy jak z bicza strzelil w zwolnionym tempie :) Wysiedlismy rano w zadupiastym miasteczku zwanym Corrumba, w 37 st. upale, ktorym byl tym dotkliwszy, ze jechalismy z klima, wilgotnosci wzglednej bliskiej 100% (mokradla) i komarach w pelnym rozkwicie. Witani pelnymi satysfakcji spojrzeniami wspolpasazerow z nizszych klas wyruszylismy do granicy. Dojechalismy tam taksowka. Okazalo sie, ze wjazd do Boliwii jest gratis, o czym informowaly wielkie plakaty w kampanii Walcz z Korupcja :) ale wyjazd juz nie. Kosztuje ok. 1,5 USD od osoby. Dostalismy nawet pokwitowanie Wkroczylismy do Brazylii. Tu stemplowalo sie dopiero w pobliskim miasteczku, wiec z posterunku brazylijskiego skorzystalem tylko w celach sanitarnych. Po moim wyjsciu z WC mowiacy troche po hiszpansku pan usmiechnal sie i powiedzial: Duza kupa, co? Skwapliwie przytaknalem i zataczajac sie ze smiechu ruszylem w strone przystanku autobusowego (taksowki niestety sa tu sporo drozsze niz w innych krajach Am.Pld.). Podoba mi sie w tym kraju!
Ociekajacy potem dotarlismy na terminal. Niestety na razie nie pojedziemy do Campo Grande bo straz graniczna zamknieta do 14.00. A wiec czekamy. Wybralem sie w miedzyczasie po wode i do bankomatu. Po godzinie spaceru w lokalnym klimacie wrocilem ledwie zywy z mocnym postanowieniem niewychodzenia z dworca, a potem z klimatyzowanego autobusu. Granice otworzyli, paszporty sprawdzili. Pierwszy raz rowniez sprawdzali ksiazeczke szczepien (zolta febra). Zapachnialo cywilizacja. Cudem zdazylismy na autobus o 15:00. Autobus byl faktycznie wygodny, ale kosztowal nas wiecej niz nasz dzienny budzet na dwie osoby (na wszystko!). Cholera, duzo podrozowac tu nie bedziemy... Mial nas dowiezc do Campo Grande w 6 h, ale po drodze wsiadla jedna ladniutka pani policjantka (!) i sprawdzala nasze dokumenty i bagaze przez ok. 50 minut. Nieprzyjemne to nie bylo (fotek brak!) ale w rezultacie tego i pewnie znanych tylko kierowcy czynnikow dotarlismy blisko polnocy. Czyli punktualnosc jak wszedzie indziej, a juz sie balem, ze czeka mnie szok cywilizacyjny. Po drodze Aska chciala w przydroznej knajpie jeszcze sprobowac zupy z piranii, ale akurat ´wyszla´. Coz, moze pozniej...
Wszystko wyglada czysciej, bogaciej i jest w lepszym stanie niz gdziekolwiek indziej dotad na kontynencie, to trzeba przyznac. 4h do lotu. Na wpol spiacy, zwalamy sie do kafejki internetowej, gdzie spotykamy 2 Irlandczykow, ktorzy leca tym samym samolotem do Sao Paulo. Potem my przesiadamy sie na lot do Rio a oni na autobus, bo nie dostali biletow lotniczych do Rio. Czas mija szybciej na rozmowie i grze w karty. Taksowka na lotnisko tez taniej wychodzi..(po dowiezieniu nas kierowca mamrocze cos o sporej doplacie za bagaz, choc uzgadnialismy juz cene, ale splawiamy go 1 realem)
Samolot jest okropny. Wiem, ze to tania linia, ale nierozkladane siedzenia po katem prostym to juz przesada. Ilosc miejsca na nogi tez chyba niezgodna z konwencja genewska (punkt o godnym traktowaniu skazanych). Walcze ze snem i bolem uszu. Gdy juz zasypiam, ladujemy. Oczywiscie spoznieni, ale drugi samolot czeka. Drugi lot przebiega tak samo, tylko batonik jest lepszy. Ale za to juz po stewardessach widac, ze widoki na estetyczny urlop sa tu nienajgorsze :) Przez okno tez jest na co patrzec. Wyspy, wysepki, mosty, estakady, slimaki, plaze. I oczywiscie Cristo Redentor na wzgorzu. Gapie sie jak zahipnotyzowany....
Po wyladowaniu dzwonie do Raquel, naszej gospodyni i umawiam sie, ze zostawie rzeczy u niej w domu. Raquel mieszka na wyspie Ilha Governador, oddalonej sporo od centrum. Jedziemy tam autobusem kurczowo sciskajac plecaki a potem taksowka lypiac podejrzliwie na kierowce. Kierowca zadowolony dowozi nas na miejsce (kolejna roznica: taksometr, w wiekszosci innych miejsc uzgadnia sie cene przed kursem) i radosnie dolicza sobie real napiwku. Raquel mieszka w ladnym domku w spokojnej willowej okolicy! Duzy plusik!
Widze juz, ze jestesmy w zupelnie innym kraju. Porozumiewanie sie jest cholernie trudne. Myslalem, ze oni znaja ciut hiszpanski. Niestety, tylko na granicy. Jezyk pisemny rozumiem w 90%. Ale w mowie nie da sie zrozumiec prawie NIC! Akcent jest jak mieszanka francuskiego i... rosyjskiego! (przez to ich tylkojezykowe ´l´) A po angielsku nie kwapia sie mowic. Uchh...
Zostawiamy bagaze u babci Raquel, bo ona sama jest w pracy. Oczywiscie porozumiewamy sie na migi. Ruszamy do centrum. Rio jest zupelnie inne od dotychczasowo odwiedzanych przez nas stolic. Znacznie bardziej... bo ja wiem... metropolitalne. W centrum brak tu chaotycznej zabudowy i niskich domkow, tak powszechnych w Limie czy Bogocie. Gigantyczne fasady kamienic, od 12 do 20 pieter, nie daja chwili wytchnienia. Manhattan to dosc bliskie skojarzenie. Nie brakuje tez starych kosciolow i pokolonialnych zabytkow. Odleglosci sa gigantyczne. I tylko dwie linie metra, zupelnie jak w malym (w porownaniu) Medellin :) Zwiedzamy pobieznie centrum, zagladamy do futurystycznej katedry (wyglada jak ufo!!!) i jedziemy starym tramwajem do zabytkowej dzielnicy na wzgorzach Santa Teresa. No nonoo.. jaka zmiana otoczenia. Kojarzy mi sie to Lizbona, choc nigdy tam nie bylem. Beda fotki, ocenicie. (Przy okazji:przepraszam z gory za fatalna jakosc zdjec z Rio, ale tutaj jak pewnie pamietacie, poruszamy sie tylko z mala cyfrowa malpa kupiona za grosze w Limie). Turystow jest dziwnie malo, spotykamy pierwszych od poczatku podrozy Polakow i nikt nie skacze na nas z rewolwerem ani maczeta. Bardzo dziwne, moze to nie to miasto? Zaspokajamy glod w jednym z licznych tu barow, gdzie jedzenie w formie bufetu kupuje sie na kilogram. Miesa, ryze, frytki, warzywa, owoce, dodatki. Niesamowite, pyszne, calkiem tanie i ogolnie palce lizac. Czemu u nas tego nie ma????
Wracamy na nasza wyspe. Wiedzie tu ogromny most przez cala zatoke (ciesnine). Zdjec nie mamy, ale moze znajdziemy pocztowke. (Wspaniale wygladal z samolotu przy ladowaniu). Raquel jeszcze nie ma, wiec dopelniamy toalety, aby nie uciekla na nasz widok. Kiedy przychodzi, dowiadujemy sie, ze mozemy zostac przez caly karnawal (myslelismy, ze tylko pierwsze 3 dni, na pozostale dni mielismy zabukowany slono platny nocleg u kogo innego). Poza tym jest supermila i baaardzo pomocna. Nie ma jak glupie szczescie!!! Hurra!!!
Nastepnego dnia dowiadujemy sie jeszcze, ze z powodu karnawalu Raquel ma na razie wolne (jest anestezjologiem, pracuje w szpitalu, cos mi sie zdaje, ze w szczycie karnawalu powinna miec duzo roboty :))) i moze nas zawiezc na Ipaneme. Plaza...!! To jest to. To podobno jedna z najladniejszych plaz Rio, uwieczniona w slynnej piosence Jobima ´Dziewczyna z Ipanemy´(Garota da Ipanema). Jadac w wygodnym samochodzie Raquel podziwiamy okoliczne wzgorza, malownicze favelas :) Plaza jest faktycznie ladna, a ludzi jak na lekarstwo. Piasek parzy stopy ale jest sliczny i czysciutki. Woda, jak na tak piaszczyste dno zadziwiajaco piaszczysta. Fale ogromne. Szybko odkrywam, ze jesli stoi sie 12 m od brzegu n a fali mozna sie fajnie bujac, ale jak stoi sie blizej, to fala uderza czlowieka zamiast zalewac i go poniewiera. Poniewierka to wciagniecie pod wode, wlanie soli do wszystkich otworow ciala, dwukrotny obrot pod woda, sciagniecie kapielowek (!) i szorowanie tylkiem (wariant lepszy) lub brzuchem (wariant gorszy) po piachu. Widownia klaszcze i ma swietny ubaw :) Za chwile i ja biore udzial w widowisku juz jako widz. Hmm, juz wiem, czemu wszystkie dziewczyny wchodzac do wody przytrzymuja reka dolna czesc kostiumu
O dziewczynach w Brazylii pisac nie bede. To byloby dosc absurdalne z dwoch powodow. Po pierwsze opisac sie tego zbytnio nie da. A po drugie Aska wszystko by wyciela. Fotek brak, musicie wierzyc na slowo.
Wysyceni plazowa atmosfera i z sola w zylach udajemy sie spacerem w strone Copacabany, ktora zwiedzic trzeba, choc nie jest tak ladna. Potem udajemy sie metrem na obiad i spotyka nas srogie rozczarowanie. Juz 18.00 a wszystkie bary na kilogram pracuja w znanej nam okolicy tylko w porze lunchu! Jedziemy na spotkanie z Raquel, moze ona cos poradzi. Po napchaniu brzuszkow w innym barze wracamy razem do domku...
Jutro zobaczymy, czy uda sie nam dostac bilety na kulminacyjna parade szkol Samby, ´Sambodromo´, oczywiscie po cenach nizszych niz 6000 zl (za tyle chodza najlepsze bilety)....Poza tym, jesli bedzie ladna pogoda zwiedzimy pomnik Jezusa ´Cristo Redentor´ i moze znow poplazujemy. Ach.. zaczynam rozwazac przeprowadzke do Rio. Zwlaszcza, ze ceny mieszkan podobne jak w Warszawie...
P.S. Kuzyn Raquel zalatwil nam bilety na sobotni mecz klubow Vasco da Gama i Flamengo. Kosztuja chyba taniej niz na Mysliwiecka w Wawie (ok. 10 zl). Ta druga druzyna to w Rio najpopularniejszy zespol, a w tej pierwszej gra jeden z wielkich na R (Rivaldo, Ronaldinho, Reganaldinho, Romariabariamariarinho?) Jesli wiecie, jak znam sie na pilce, nie bedziecie pytac... :) Ale brazylijski futbol to najlepszy produkt eksportowy kraju (poza modelkami, to pewne), wiec isc trzeba.Fotki powinny byc.

The Bolivian train proved pretty cool. The guidebook says it is the infamous Orient Express, nicknamed the Train of Death but I don't know how you can come up with a stupid name like that for no reason. Well, unless you have no air conditioning, like other passengers... But at first we underestimated our A/C. It had new movies on DVD (pirated of course) and catering service (paid extra, unfortunately). Seats were comy, so 16 hours flew by before we knew it (well, before we got tired anyway). We got off in the morning in a backwater small town called Quijarro in a 37 C heat and relative humidity close to 100% (swamp region), which was all the more cruel in comparison with our air-conditioned car. Mosquitoes were rampant too. Greeted by self-satisfied looks of passengers from lower-class cars we left for the border, which we reached by a cab. It turned out that entering Bolivia is free, as advertised by huge posters of the Fight Corruption campaign, but leaving it is not. They charge you USD 1,5 per person. We even got a receipt We entered Brazil. Here they would stamp your passport only in the nearby border town, so I used the border post only for sanitary purposes. After my leaving the toilet, the guard, who spoke a little Spanish smiled and said: "Must have been a big shit, right?" I nodded and drunk with laughter I rushed to the bus stop (cabs are unfortunately a lot more expensive than in other countries around here). I instantly fell in love with Brazilians! :D
Dripping with sweat we reached the terminal. Unfortunately, for now we could not go to Campo Grande because the border control post was closed until 2pm. So we wait. In the meantime I went to fetch some water and take money from the ATM. After an hour's walk in the local climate I returned almost dead with a strong desire not to leave the terminal ever again and then stay in the airconditioned bus. The border was finally opened. They checked our passports. For the first time they also checked my vaccine certficates (yellow fever). Smells like civilization :) Miraculously, we made it to the bus at 3pm. It was really comfy, but it cost us a lot more than our daily budget for everything! Shit, we won't be travelling a lot here.... It was supposed to take us to Campo Grande in 6h but halfway through a cute policewoman hopped on (!) and checked our papers and luggage for abt. 50 minutes. It wasn't bad (no photos!) but because of this incident and for other reasons only the driver knew about we reached our destination close to midnight. Which means, punctuality like everywhere else in America. And I was already afraid I would be in for a nasty kind of a civilization shock. Duh! Before that we stopped in a roadside bar and Aska wanted to try a piranha soup but they were out for the time being. Well, maybe later.
Everything does look cleaner, wealthier and is in better condition than anywhere else on the continent, I must admit that. 4h until the flight. Half asleep we go to an Internet cafe where we meet 2 Irishmen, who will take the same flight to São Paulo. Then we change planes to fly to Rio and they go by bus, because they could not get tickets to Rio. How surprising :) Time flies a lot faster talking and playing cards. We split a cab to the airport too (after getting us there the driver suddenly says he wants to charge us more on account of our bags, although we had fixed the price already but we give him 1 real and away he goes).
The plane is awful. I know they're a low-fare airline, but non-reclinable seats positioned at almost the right angle are just oo much. Legspace probably also violates the Geneva convention (humane treatment of prisoners :) I fight off sleepiness and ear-ache. When I already manage to sleep, we land. Of course we're late but the other plane is waiting for us too. The other flight is no better, only the candy bar they give us is tastier. But just by looking at the stewardesses I can see we will have a good time in this country... :) And views out the window are splendid as well. Islands, islets, bridges, junctions, beaches. And of course Crist Redentor overlooking the city from the Corcovado hill. I am staring as if I'm mesmerized...
After landing I call Raquel, our host, and she tells me I can drop our bags at her home. Raquel lives at the Ilha de Governador island, far off from the center. We take a bus, clinging to our backpacks furiously then we change to take a cab, eyeing the cabbie in a suspicious manner all the time. The cabbie gets us there no problem (another difference: they have meters here, as opposed to other cities where you would set the price beforehand) and happily charges us 1 real more as a tip. Raquel lives in a pretty little house in a quiet wealthy neighboorhood. Goodie!
I can see now it's a totally different country. Communication is awfully difficult. I thought people speak Spanish here. Unfortunately, only in the border areas. I can understand written texts 90% of the time but spoken language is an enigma to me! Their accent seems like a mix of French and.. Russian! And they're not too eager to speak English. Ough...
We leave the bags with Raquel's granny, because R. is at work. Of course we use our hands for communication. We move to downtown. Rio is quite different from the capitals we visited before in South America. Much more... well.. metropolitan. Big-city-like. In downtown there is no chaos and no small rickety houses, which abound in Lima or Bogota. Giant facades, from 12 to 20 floors, leave you speechless. Manhattan is not that different. There are also quite a few old churches and post-colonial buildings, but not so many as in Lima. Distances are huge and only two subway lines, just like in the smallish (in comparison) Medellin :) We visit downtown quickly, we take a glance at the futuristic cathedral (looks like a UFO!) and we take an old streetcar to the historic neighborhood of Santa Teresa spread on the nearby hills. What a change of scenery! This brings Lisbon to mind, except I have never been to Lisbon :) Let me take a moment to apologize in advance for the awful quality of photos from Rio, but as you remember we are only using the small digital crap-cam bought for peanuts in Lima). Surprisingly few tourists. We met the first Polish travellers (a family) since the beginning of our trip. Nobody jumps at us with a browning or a machete. Strange. Maybe it's not Rio? We satisfy our hunger in one of the many per-kilo buffets around here. Meats, rices, fries, vegetables, fruits, sides. Amazing, tasty, pretty cheap and yum yum!!! Why not open places like these in Poland???
We return to our island. There's a huge bridge leading to Niteroi over an entire bay (strait?). Raquel is still not here so we jump into the shower so as not to scare her away with our 3-day stench :) When she comes, she tells us we can stay over the whole carnival (and we thought we would only stay for the first 3 days, and for the rest of our stay we had made a reservation at an expeeensive hostel). Besides she's supernice and superhelpful. Lucky us!!! Hurrah!
Next day we find out that Raquel has a few days off for the carnival (she's an anesthesiologist, working at a hospital, should have a lot of work during the carnival I suspect!) and can drive us to Ipanema. The beach...! That's it!! This is supposedly one of Rio's finest beaches and was immortalized in Jobim's famous song "Girl from Ipanema" ((Garota da Ipanema). Riding in Raquel's comfy car, we admire the nearby hills, and scenic favelas :) The beach is a beauty and not many people around. The sand is burning our feet but it is clean and extremely nice. Water, for a sandy bottom like that, is surprisingly clear. Waves are huge. I quickly discover that when you stand 40 feet from the shore, the waves will almost rock you to sleep, but if you come closer, they will smack you hard and instead of rocking you, will demolish you. Demolition means pulling you underwater, putting saltwater in all your orifices, twisting you two times under the water, pulling down your swimsuit (!) and rubbing your ass (best case scenario) or belly (worst case scenario) against the sandy bottom. The audience applauds and is having a great fun :) Soon I get to admire a show like that. Now I know why all girls hold on to their panties while getting into the water here..
I won't go into details about Brazilian girls here. This would be pretty absurd for two reasons: one it is beyond description and two - Aska would cut everything out anyway. No photos available. Take my word on it.
After the beach, with salt flowing in our veins we take a walk to Copacabana, which is required visiting, although supposedly not so pretty. I don't know... seems pretty amazing to me.. Then we take the subway for a dinner and we are grossly disappointed. 6pm and all per-kilo bars on the street we visited before are closed. They serve in lunchtime hours only! We go to meet Raquel. After quenching our hunger in another bar we return home with her... Tomorrow we shall see if we can buy tickets for the culmination parade of Samba schools - 'Sambodromo', of course cheaper than $2000 USD (best tickets' prices). Besides, if the weather is fine, we may visit the Jesus hill and go to the beach for some time... Ahh... I'm considering moving to Rio now. And prices of apartments are no higher than Warsaw!
P.S. Raquel's cousin got us tickets for the Saturday football game of Botafogo vs. Flamengo. They are probably cheaper than games in Warsaw (approx. USD 4$). The latter team is Rio's most popular club. Brazilian football is the country's best export product (besides models, that's for sure) so we have to go, although I don't know shit about footie. Should have some photos for you.

Lima i co dalej? / Lima and what now?

Lima Katedra / Cathedral in Lima
Lima Katedra / Cathedral in Lima
Grob Pizarra w limskiej Katedrze / Pisarro's tomb in the Lima Cathedral
Lima Katedra / Cathedral in Lima
Lima
Lima Katedra / Cathedral in Lima
Lima Katedra / Cathedral in Lima
Katakumby w kosciele Sw. Franciszka w Limie / Catacombs in St. Francis church in Lima
Palac Prezydencki / Presidential Palace - Lima
Muzeum Inkwizycji / Museum of the Inquisition - Lima
Lima
Muzeum Larco Herrera / Larco Herrera Museum
Muzeum Larco Herrera / Larco Herrera Museum
Muzeum Larco Herrera stosy eksponatow / Larco Herrera Museum heaps of exhibits
Muzeum Larco Herrera - roslinka / Larco Herrera Museum - plant
Muzeum Larco Herrera / Larco Herrera Museum
Muzeum Larco Herrera / Larco Herrera Museum
Lima
Lima
Lima
Lima
Lima
Lima katedra noca / Cathedral by night
Lima cwiczenia matadorow / Torreadors practising
Lima arena do corridy / bullfight arena
Lima zmiana warty / change of guard
Lima
Lima
Matka Boska z lama na glowie (mialy byc "plomienie", ale rzezbiarz byl lokalny, a "llama" to zarowno plomien jak lama, wiec wyszlo male faux pas / Holy Virgin with a llama on her head (she was supposed to wear a crown of flames but the sculptor was a local guy, and since llama means both flame and llama, a small misunderstanding ensued :)))
Pachacamac - roslinnosc / vegetation
Pachacamac
Pachacamac
Pachacamac
Pachacamac
Pies viringo w ruinach Pachacamac / Viringo dog in the Pachacamac ruins
Powrot z Pachacamac / Heading home from Pachacamac
Z Manuelem w Limie / With Manuel in Lima
Limska codziennosc (zartuje, to teatr uliczny) / Street life in Lima (kidding its a street theater :))
Santa Cruz - Katedra / Cathedral
Santa Cruz - Katedra w srodku / Cathedral inside
Firma autobusowa. Co na to Watykan ? / Bus company. What does the Holy See have to say? :)
Pociag Smierci / Death Train :)))
14 lutego. Po upojnej nocy w autobusie do Limy (8h) na miejscu powitala nas... pustka :) Poprzedniego dnia wyslalem mejla do Manuela, ale chyba nie odebral. Moze przyslal choc swoj adres... Trudna rada, musimy jechac na net, wysylac mu dalsze mejle. Miasto z okna autobusu, a potem i taksowki (znow trudne negocjacje ze stolecznym taksiarzem :) sprawia wrazenie ladnego, ale balaganiarsko urzadzonego. Ma cos z Bogoty. Jest tu ogromnie duzo zabytkow, ale sa one poprzetykane nowoczesnymi klocami z betonu, a calosc jest ciut niepoukladana. Poza tym dystanse sa olbrzymie. 8 mln mieszkancow sprawia, ze podroz z jednego konca Limy na druga (autobus) zajmuje prawie 3 godziny. Na szczescie nas to nie spotkalo :) W kafejce internetowej nadal brak mejla od Manuela. Zaczynamy sie niepokoic bo nie mamy do niego telefonu. Trudno, idziemy tj. jedziemy w miasto :) Autobus wysadza nas "tuz" przy rynku (15 min. piechota :) Zwiedzamy przydroga katedre (grob Pizarra), katakumby kosciola Sw. Franciszka (beda fotki z setkami czasek hahaha...) i straszliwe Muzeum Inkwizycji z nudnaaa przewodniczka (ziew). W kolejnej kafejce znajdujemy mejla od Manuela. Dzwonimy. Dostajemy adres. Ufff...
Czas na obiad. Po jedzeniu zmeczeni jedziemy do Manuela. Jego mieszkanie nie jest najpiekniejsze, ale za to przytulne. Przechodnie, wiec zero prywatnosci, ale skad my to znamy. Manuel ma 3 braci i bardzo serdecznych rodzicow. Jest net, ale dostep trudny, bo 2 bracia nie pracuja,a cala rodzina poza mama jest uzalezniona od netu (komp tylko jeden :) Do pozna rozmawiamy o Polsce, Europie i bzdurach. Jestesmy dla nich niezla egzotyka, staramy sie wiec wypelnic luki w ich wiedzy o Europie Wschodniej :) (no dobra, Srodkowej :) Spac..
15 lutego. Caly ranek zajmuje pranie i wieszanie ciuchow na dachu budynku Manuela :) Przed poludniem zwiedzamy Muezum Larco Herrera. 40 tys. wyrobow glinianych z epoki prekolumbijskiej. Zwariowac mozna od nadmiaru. Swietna kolekcja zlota i wazy obrazujace smiale kolekcje erotyczne :) Wszystko tak duze i tak ciekawe, ze lykamy nawet zaporowa cene 15 zl za bilet (tutaj to majatek), a i to ze znizka dla studentow (hehehe...). Muzeum jest daleko od centrum, na niezlym zadupiu, taksiarz krazy 1/2h probujac je znalezc. Na szczescie oplate ustala sie z gory :)
Potem krotki przemarsz po kosciolach w centrum, zakupy i juz zapada zmrok.. Dom, kolacja, rozmowy, spanie.. :)
16 lutego. Aska chora, nigdzie nie idzie. Ja decyduje sie spedzic dzien aktywnie. Lece z rana do Muezum Corridy. Ciekawa kolekcja strojow, zdjec, obrazow i utensyliow oraz przewodnik-pasjonat. To lubie, choc do Corridy sie nie przekonalem. Tuz obok arena (chyba w kazdym wiekszym miescie w Am. Pld. sa corridy), ale to akurat nie sezon. Cykam tylko dwoch mlodzikow, ktorzy udaja na pustej arenie matadora i byka (ze sztucznym rogami). Zasmialbym sie, gdyby nie to, ze te dwa podrostki w dresach to podobno szanowani matadorzy, majacy na koncie wiele byczych istnien :) Coz, stroj sluzbowy trzeba szanowac... Beda fotki. Potem lece na zmiane gwardii pod palacem na glownym rynku. Imponujace, ale 50% zaslania plot, a reszte policja, przechodnie i samochody. Co za pomysl... Potworny upal, zmywam sie w srodku spektaklu. Jeszcze szybka wizyta w klasztorze Sw.Dominika, ogladam grob 1szego czarnego swietego Ameryki Pld. (Sw. Marcin z Porres) i lece na autobus do Pachacamac (ruiny Inkaskie w odleglej dzielnicy Limy). 31 km. Godzina jazdy. Powinienem sie cieszyc, ze tylko tyle, ale nie moge... Docieram do ruin. Sa ogromne i sa na pustyni. O 16.00 juz tak nie pali, ale jednak... 2h szybkiego marszu i zwiedzam pobieznie ciekawy kompleks. Jest polozony nad samym oceanem. Niezle widoki. Wyczerpany wracam do domu...
17 lutego. Czas ruszac do Rio. Manuel prowadzi mnie do centrum handlowego gdzie za 300 zl nabywam cyfrowy aparacik-zabawke specjalnie do fotografowania w Rio (do odsprzedania juz za tydzien :), zapraszam! Jak go zwina czy wyrwa, nie bedzie zal :) (odpukac), a potem zalatwia nam u swojej znajomej bilety na 1szy etap podrozy - do Arequipy. Teraz jedziemy nonstop, bedzie meczaco, ale 1szy etap bedzie w luksusowym autobusie 1szej klasy (skora na siedzeniach, kolacja, tv, klima itp. - powaznie!)wiec zacznniemy lagodnie. Autobus o 17.00. Tu odjezdzaja raczej punktualnie w odroznieniu od Kolumbii, wiec trzeba sie spieszyc. 16.30 - decyduje sie isc pod prysznic, nie moge jechac do Rio bez mycia :) 16:40 wychodzimy. 1sza taksowka zajeta. 3 nastepne tez. Piata to tico, za male na nasze bagaze i 3 osoby (Manuel). Szosta to duze kombi. Zabieramy sie. Korek. 16:50. Kierowca zjezdza na stacje, bo mu wygodnie (tak tu robia). Ignoruje nasze blagania. 16:55. W Kolejnym korku samochod gasnie. Trzypasmowa droga. Wyskakujemy z Manuelem pchac, a wokol mijaja nas z klaksonami rozsierdzeni kierowcy busow i ciezarowek. 17:00. Samochod zapala, ale kierowca mija zjazd i musimy sporo nadlozyc. Kurfff... 17:05 ladujemy na dworcu. Kolejka. Nawet nie podstawili jeszcze autobusu... Ufff.. Daniel mowil, ze to sie nazywa czas peruwianski. Jak sie z kims umawiasz, pytasz czy to wg czasu angielskiego (normal) czy peruwianskiego (duuuuze opoznienie :) W tym wypadku przydalo sie... :)
18 lutego, rano. Budzimy sie w Arequipie. Faktycznie komfortowo. Teraz gorzej. Okazuje sie, ze do granicy nie ma nic bezposrednio i trzeba jechac z przesiadka. O 18.00 zamykaja granice, wiec MUSIMY zdazyc. O 15:30 z kolanami na uszach w za ciasnym autobusie dojezdzamy do Puno nad jeziorem Titicaca ale nie mamy czasu na widoki. Autobus stad do granicy dojezdza za pol godziny, a jedzie 2,5 (czyli na pewno nie mniej :) Nie mamy szans... Zaraz... kierowca mowi, ze granica do 20.00. Hurra! Wsiadamy. Miejsca tu jeszcze mniej, ale trudno. 2,5 h sie wytrzyma. Na granicy (4500 m npm) lapie nas okropna zimnica (wieczor) i ulewa. Oczywiscie nie ma dworca bo to wiocha, wiec wysiadamy na jakims placyku i w sekundzie mokniemy kompletnie. Pod jakims daszkiem przebieramy sie dygocac i lecimy na granice. Peruwianczycy chca nas przeszukac. Spinam sie, bo oczekuje juz jakichs szwindli, wymuszen lapowek, ale nie... Nie sa drobiazgowi, bawia sie moim chinskim sprezynowcem kupionym za grosze w Ekwadorze i puszczaja nas z usmiechem. Nawet wychodza na chwile, zebysmy zmienili mokre ciuchy. Lecimy do Boliwijczykow. Pan cztery razy pyta, z jakiego jestem kraju, jakby byl gluchy. Po 10 minutach znajduje nas na kartce pod haslem "wizy nie trzeba". Ufff... kretyn.
Do pobliskiego La Paz (150 km) lapiemy.. taksowke. 20 zl :) Mozna jechac mikrobusem, ale wtedy bagaz na dachu. W taki deszcz? Dziekuje.. 2 dodatkowych pasazerow i juz prujemy do La Paz. Prosta droga, zero ruchu, fajnie. O 21.00 docieramy do miasta. Chwila oddechu, lapiemy autobus do Cochabamby, na wschod od La Paz. 7h jazdy. W srodku strasznie marzniemy (wciaz gory, mokre buty, nieszczelne okna). Kierowca zatrzymuje sie Wyciagamy spiwory. Uff.
19 lutego rano. Cochabamba. Na watpliwe wdzieki boliwijskich pejzazy jestesmy zbyt znieczuleni. Lapiemy autobus do Santa Cruz. "Tak, ma lazienke". Ktora nie dziala. Aska znow wkurzona, ze nas nabrali. Na nogi malo miejsca. ale grunt, ze jedziemy dalej. I robi sie spooro cieplej. Za cieplo. Kleimy sie cali... Uff.. Kilka razy przestoj. Awaria? Nikt sie nie dziwi. O 17:00 docieramy do Santa Cruz (12h zamiast 10). Niestety jedyny autobus do granicy jest pelny. Jutro mozna zlapac pociag, nawet lepiej, bo nie groza mu przestoje spowodowane deszczem, a autobusom tak. OK, agent probuje nas naciagnac na jakies drastyczne prowizje, ale decydujemy sie kupic bilet sami nastepnego dnia (dzis kasa zamknieta). Jesli starczy. Wstaniemy o 6 i ok... Jeszcze wizyta w Irish Pubie. Swietne jedzonko, tanio, ale guinness sie skonczyl. Hehehe. Spac, jutro poranna pobudka. Chce isc o 6:00, wtedy otwieraja dworzec..
Nie moge spac przez upal. Nasz hotel tuz naprzeciwko dworca. 4:30, 20 lutego. Mysle sobie: wstane, zerkne czy ktos juz czeka. Okazuje sie, ze owszem i pod dworcem sporo luda. Gdy dochodze otwieraja sie drzwi i tlum rusza do srodka. Nie pytam po co, biegne za nimi. Docieram ok. 10-12 w kolejce. Nie jest zle. Ale zaraz, dworzec mieli otwierac o 6 a u mnie 4:50. Rety...w Boliwii czas przeciez o godzine pozniej niz np. w Peru czy Kolumbii. Ufff... no tak, glupi ma jednak czasem szczescie... Gdybym nie wstal... Do siodmej kolejka okropnie sie wydluza, ze 200 osob, boje sie myslec...
Kupujemy bilety na pozniejszy pociag na 17:00 w najlepszej klasie Super Pullman (a co!), za zastraszajaca kwote 40 zl od osoby (wczorajszy agent chcial wyludzic 2,5x wiecej!!!). Jest jeszcze pociag o 13:00, ale przyjezdza tylko 2h wczesniej (o 7:00 rano jutro, a nasz o 9:00) bo sporo sie zatrzymuje. Poza tym nie ma klimy i video :) a kosztuje tyle samo. Bagazy pilnowac nie trzeba, jest na nie osobny wagon i kwitki. Fajny pomysl. Jeszcze troche czasu na surfowanie w kafejce, pobiezny luk na miasto i wsiasc do pociagu...nananaan... Jutro dojezdzamy na granice w Quijarro. Stamtad "tylko" 7 h (znow na mapie tak krotka ta kreska :)) busem i jestesmy w Campo Grande. Stamtad pojutrze o 4 rano lot do Rio (4h). Oby nic sie nie opoznilo. Trzymajcie kciuki!

14 February. After the fun-filled night on the bus headed to Lima (8h) the welcome party is... not there :) The day before I sent an e-mail to Manuel but he clearly didn´t check his mailbox. Maybe he had sent his address or phone... Tough life, we need to look for an Internet cafe and keep sending him e-mails. Looking out of the bus window and then from a cab window (again we´re in for hard bargaining with the capital city cabbie:) the city seems pretty but quite messy. It reminds me of Bogota. There´s heaps of historic buildings but they are intertwined with modern concrete monsters and as a whole it looks kinda chaotic. Besides the distances are huge. With 8 million population that has to be packed somewhere, the ride between the two far ends of Lima (by bus) takes 3 hours. Luckily, we didnt have to take that ride :) In the Internet cafe, there´s still no news from Manuel. We start to get concerned cuz we have no other way of contacting him. We go sightseeing meantime :) The bus drops us “just” by the plaza mayor (15 minutes´ walk :) We visit the not-so-cheap cathedral (Pizarro´s tomb), St. Francis catacombs (we´ll show you photos with hundreds of skulls) and the yucky Museum of the Inquisition with the oh so booooring tourguide (yawning). At another Internet cafe, we find an e-mail from Manuel. We call him and get the address. Phew...
It´s dinner or supper time morelike. We grab something to eat and go to Manuel´s place, quite exhausted. His flat is not a palace but it´s cosy. It´s a railroad flat which means not much privacy but so is ours so we´re used to it. Manuel has 3 brothers and very warm-hearted parents. There´s an Internet connection but the access is tricky as the two brothers are home all the time and all the guys are hooked on Internet (while there´s only one computer :) We talk about Poland, Europe and all that till late hours. We´re quite exotic to them so we try to brief them on Eastern Europe (well, Central Europe, if you will) :) Off to bed.
15 February. Doing the laundry and hanging the clothes on the roof takes whole morning :) Before the noon we visit the Larco Herrera museum. 40 thousand Pre-Columbian clay artefacts. Too much, too quick!! A great collection of gold and vases with daring erotic scenes on them :) Everything is so big and so interesting that we pay the exorbitant amount of $USD 5 (it is really a lot for Peru) and that is a student price anyway! The Museum is far off from the city center. The cabbie cruises for 30 minutes trying to find it. Fortunately the price for the ride is fixed before taking off.. :)
Then a short tour of churches in the center, shopping and the dusk comes. Home, supper, talking late in the night, sleep :)
16 February. Aska is sick. She stays home. I decide to spend my day actively. I go to the Corrida Museum first thing in the morning. An interesting collection of costumes, photos, paintings and tools of the trade. And the guide - a true aficionado! I like that, although he didn't quite convince me it is a sport. Just outside there's the arena (they have bullfights probably in every major town on the continent), but now is not the season. I just take photos of two young sports who pretend to be the matador and the bull (with attached horns :)) in the empty arena. I would have laughed if those two youngsters in tracksuits had not been actual matadors, very respected ones and with a lot of trophies, too. Well, they're apparently off duty now. There'll be photos. Then I got to see the change of guard outside the palace in the main plaza. Impressive, but the fence obscures about 50% of the action, while the police, pedestrians and passing cars do the rest. What a silly idea...place the viewers across the road from a fenced palace. The heat is killing me.. I scurry away in the middle of the show. Now for a quick visit to the St. Dominic's convent, watching the tomb of South America's first saint (St. Martin de Porres) and I catch the bus to Pachacamac (Incan ruins in a remote Lima neighborhood). 31 km. An hour's ride. And I should be glad it is only an hour but I can't. Sooo slooooooww.... I reach the ruins. They are enormous and they're in a desert. At 4pm it is much cooler but still.. 2h of quick walking and I visit the entire interesting complex, if somewhat perfunctorily. It is located on the oceanfront. Nice views. Exhuasted, I head home.
17 February. Time to go to Rio. Manuel takes me to a shopping mall where I buy a toy-a digicam for $100 USD. It is only to take shots in Rio (will be selling it in a week's time, please submit your bids! :) If its stolen, no hard feelings :) (knock wood!) and then he gets us a discount for bus tickets from his lady-friend :) - the bus will take us to Arequipa. Now we will be travelling nonstop so it will be hard but the first trip will be in a luxury 1st class bus (leather seats, supper, dvd, air conditioning etc. - really!) so we start smoothly. Bus leaves at 5pm. They leave on time here unlike in Colombia so we must hurry. 4:30. I decide I have to shower. I can't go to Rio all smelly and sweaty. 4:40 Manuel and his family insist on souvenir photos. 4:45 we leave the building. 1st cab is occupied. 3 next ones too. The fifth one is a small Daewoo, our bags and three people (including Manuel) won't fit. The sixth one is a large station wagon. Off we go. Traffic jam. 4:50. The driver pulls over to take some gas at a gas station located conveniently on our way (that's how cabs work here) ignoring our terrified gazes. In another jam the car's engine dies. Three-lane highway. Me and Manuel jump out to push while enraged drivers use their horns on us in extenso. 5:00. The car starts, revving, but the driver misses an exit and we must take a longer way. Fuckkk...! 5:05 we reach the station. A long line. The bus is not even here yet. Whew... Daniel told me it is called "Peruvian time". When you set up an appointment with somebody, you ask them if they mean English time or Peruvian time (muuuuch later!) :) This time we pulled it off :)
18 February, morning. We wake up in Arequipa. This was comfy! Now it'll be worse. Turns out there's no direct buses to the border so we will need to take two. At 6pm the border closes so we MUST make it. At 3:30 with our ears between our legs in a cramped tiny bus we reach Puno at the Titicaca lake but we have no time for sights. The bus to the border leaves in half an hour and takes 2,5h to get there (which means AT LEAST 2,5h) No chances to make it.. Wait a sec... the driver says the border closes at 8pm. Hurray! We get on. Even more cramped than the last one, but what the hell. 2,5 h is not a long time. At the border (4500 m above sea level) cold weather chills us to the bone and a freezing shower of rain adds to the experience (late night). Of course no railway station because it is a small town so we get off at some square and after 3 seconds we are completely wet. We find a small roofed structure and we change our clothes shivering. We rush to the border. Peruvian guards want to frisk us. I get tense, because I suppose they might want something from us, a bribe or something but no. They're not very meticulous in their search, they play with my Chinese switchblade I bought in Equador for 2 bucks and they let us go with a smile. THey even let us use their room for us to change our wet (again!) clothes. We go the Bolivian post. The guard asks me four times which country I am from, just like he was deaf. After 10 minutes he finds Poland in a table that says "no visa required". Whew... dumbass!
To the nearby La Paz (150 km) we catch ... a cab. $6 USD. You can take a van, twice as cheap, but then they put the bags on the roof. In a rain like that? Thanks but no thanks. We take 2 additional passengers and off we go to La Paz. Straight highway, no traffic, great. First time I ride 120 km/h on this continent. We reach La Paz at 9pm. After 30 minutes and a foul meal we catch a bus to Cochabamba, east of La Paz. 7 hours' ride. We get awfully cold inside (still the mountains, my wet shoes, wind coming through shitty windows). The driver stops. We pull out our sleeping bags from the cargo bay. At last!
19 February in the morning. Cochabamba. We are immune to the unquestionable beauty of Bolivian landscapes. Too tired. We catch a bus to Santa Cruz. "Yes, senhor, it does have a bathroom!" Which is out of order, by the way. Aska is pissed again. THey tricked us one more time. Not enough legspace, but the important thing is we're moving on. And it is getting warmer. Too warm. We get sticky and sweaty. Whew... A few long stops. Breakdown? Nobody is surprised. At 5pm we reach Santa Cruz (12h instead of 10h). Unfortunately, the only bus to the Brazilian border is full. We can catch a train tomorrow, which may be even better because it won't be delayed by flooded roads, while buses may. OK, the travel agent tries to charge us some ridiculous commission (200%, as it turns out later) but we decide to buy the ticket ourselves on the next day (they're only available at the ticket office on the day the train leaves; only travel agents can buy them before; absurd system). If there's enough for all of us... Ok we'll get up at 6am and do it! We make a short trip to the city center and visit a local Irish Pub. Great food, cheap but they're out of Guinness. Alright, sleep! Tomorrow rising early! I want to go at 6am, which is when they open the station. I can't sleap because of the heat. Our hotel is just opposite the station. 4:30am, 20 February. I think to myself: I'll get up and see if anybody is there already. It turns out that some people are already waiting. When I reach the station, the doors opens and the crowd rushes inside. No time to be surprised, I run after them. I reach the line being 10th, maybe 12th. Not bad. But hey, this wasn't supposed to open until 6am and my watch says 4:50am. Oh my! Bolivia uses a different time than in Peru or Bolivia... Well.. that's just the my dumbass luck...! If I hadn't got up so early... By 7am the line gets awfully long, 200 people maybe. Scary to think what would have happened if...
We buy tickets for the later train at 5pm in the best class Super Pullman (you only live once!!! :) for a frightening amount of $13 USD each. There's another train at 1pm but it arrives only 2h before the later one (at 7am tomorrow, while ours reaches the border at 9am), because it makes a lot of stops. And it doesn't have air conditioning or movies :) and it costs the same. No need to watch your luggage. The bags travel in separate cars and you get receipts, just like on a bus. Great idea. Just have enough time to go to e-cafe, have a quick look at the city and borad the train. TOmorrow we will be in Quijarro at the border. From there it is just 7h (and it looked so close on the map!! :) and we're in Campo Grande. From there, we fly at 4am to Rio (4h) the day after tomorrow. I hope we're not late. Keep your fingers crossed!