Arse numbing cold snap
Later that night, the weather inverts and drops a near twenty five/thirty degrees forcing us to grab our coats (we weren’t expecting to need them until we got to at least Bolivia). Lucy has to resort to thermals, which are at least good protection from the Mosquitos. We actually have to put the heater on in our room. I’m not sure that has ever happened in Matto Grosso de sul.
The morning after, we watch the news to see a Brazillian hurricane ripping through the southern parts of the state and wonder if we are anywhere near the hurricane season. The cold air nips at the nose and seems fairly unprecedented in this region. The locals of the region blame the weather on Patagonia and shrug, getting on with their jobs wearing jeans and warm coats. The Lontra Pantanal visibly does good business in selling fishing trips to business men but due to the cold snap there were to be no trips today, or business in general. The recession reaching far and wide hitting this place as hard as any. Commonly we notice a significant lack of travellers in the hostels we stay in. Almost no English travellers from rio to the Pantanal apart from a small group in the Aquario poussada in Ilha Grande.
Our morning trip freezes us to the bone as we are transported a long distance for an “Eco-walk”. Even Carlos the guide feels the cold, donning a fetching multi-hide jacket with leather and suede (think apparel de Steven Seagal). Today he carries his giant machete knife to cut back the foliage or perhaps to tangle with Jaguars. He shows us a big cat footprint along the way hidden underneath a pile of leaves. There is only one print, so I assume it’s a one legged Jaguar. Very rare in these parts.
The return trip is equally bone chilling and we are relieved when after checkout on the way to the next transfer point, the driver lets us sit in the cab. He is sporting some 80s style ripped jeans akin to those made famous by Matt and Luke Goss from Bros (I’m guessing that was the look he was going for). Our driver picks up one of the local “honeys” en route but she is made to get in the open back of the truck. She wobbles when we encounter the rickety bridges and I am too cold to be chivalrous today.
Our transfer minibus to Bonito is full and we endure the conversation of German boy-teens trying to pickup Croatian girl-teens in English. Please don’t think me xenophobic, but everything you have heard about German lack of humour from these particular teens was demonstrated to an excruciating level. If someone had a four hour recording of cats being tortured whilst playing the One Direction discography (including bonus tracks) played up to an ear splitting two thousand decibel volume, it would have been sweet… sweet relief from having to listen to this drivel. Nobody should have to endure the abyss of humour nothingness we stared into.
(Imagine German accent here:)
“Kevin, when we get to Bonito will you be hiring… A pink bicycle!?”… Said Andreas.
“No, I don’t think so” said Kevin.
“Time for tea” says Peter.
“Sunshine” sings Andreas.
German boys are now laughing with Andreas in a strange scene that now reminds me of the German nihilist characters from “The Big Lebowski”.
Having just come from the Pantanal, they then convince the bus driver to stop to take pointless shots of bored looking birds. Cameras primed will full zoom they achieve…
Argh, who cares, I need to stop ranting and get to the good stuff… I’m sure it was just because they were young…
Lucy calms me down with a calm voice and a calm look. I feel calmtastic. Calm happens after we get off the bus and enter our new hostel “Catarino’s…