Curitiba: FIFA – Fairly Incompetent Fraudulent Association

Along with most of the other Australians over for the World Cup, we all left Florianopolis and made our respective ways to Curitiba for Australia’s last game of the cup. Although it was a dead rubber, a lot of people were excited to see how the Spanish would respond to being ousted so early, and to hopefully see the Aussies come away with at least a point from this cup.

We however weren’t amongst those dedicated enough to pay top dollar for a dead rubber (we didn’t get tickets during the ballot stages and weren’t willing to pay hundreds of dollars for a scalped one) and decided to watch the Aussie game out at the FIFA Fan Fest and then secure prime positions for the following Brazil game.

We were kindly taken out on the Sunday night by some Brazilian friends we had recently met in Chile, and the city centre was packed with fans from all over. Not standard for a Sunday night we were told, but Curitiba does seem like a place that enjoys a party.

Monday was game day, and after applying our patriotic makeup, and enjoying a few delightful malt beers (I couldn’t give them away and could only manage to struggle through a couple – it was like someone had mixed together a beer and coke, two things I quite enjoy on their own, but shit the bed they taste like ass when chucked in a can together), we headed off. After fighting traffic to get out to the Fan Fest, we were scrambling to make it in on time for kick off. After getting the run around to get wrist bands (and having to off-load Nic’s lunch from our bags) we were informed by some annoyed Australians that the Fan Fest was showing the Netherlands v Chile game (the other game from our pool). It is beyond me why FIFA had decided to do this as there was not a Chilean in sight, and besides my good self wearing my recently acquired Dutch flag, the Oranje were all in Rio marching towards Estádio do Maracanã.

Yes fair to say FIFA may have assumed that all the Australians and Spanish in town would be going to the game, but given this particular game was one of the first to sell out during the ballot stages, it would be a safe bet that some fans would have missed out on tickets but still wanted to be in the area to get amongst the atmosphere. Anyway, as I have learnt over the years, not everyone shares my opinions.

Luckily for us, some other baffled Aussies has stumbled across a small eatery selling froths and some sort of buffet, but more importantly contained a small box TV purchased in the 80s, and even luckier for all, Brazil hasn’t phased out analogue TV.

So with about 30 Aussies crammed into this tiny restaurant we cheered on the Roos amidst reception cut outs (often fixed, or attempted at least, with the good old fashioned whack to the side of the tele), actual customers trying to eat their meal in peace, and what appeared to be half the police force assigned to control the Fan Fest.

An excited bunch!

We did hear that the officials running the Fan Fest were alerted to their misguided game choice, more than likely through some choice words by some irritated fans, but more so due to the fact that the place was empty. So at half time they changed over to the Aussie game, but the majority of us decided to stay in our little restaurant – A: because FIFA are useless, and B: because they had cheaper beverages here.

With the Aussies bowing out in (somewhat) respectable fashion, we all navigated to the Fan Fest, where Nic and I were again stopped for trying to smuggle food (and yes it was only food) in. We took up position for the Brazil v Cameroon game and attempted to enjoy the pre-game entertainment which consisted of a Brazilian comedian who didn’t get many laughs from those who understood him, and then a samba band which did in fact get the crowd into game mode.

The Brazilians strolled over the Cameroonians (yeah it’s a word, I looked it up), with the local hero (possibly soon to become legend) Neymar Jr scoring twice to the roar and appreciation of the crowd. In fact some were so stoked with the performance that a few flares were let off – standard for a Brazilian football game, but given I couldn’t smuggle in a packet of chips and some chicken drum sticks, I can only imagine where they hid the flares!

Get your Samba on

Nothing much of note happened for the rest of the night, but Big Al did use his spider senses to sniff out a food market selling delicacies from all over the world.

 All in all glad we made the trip and no one can say the Socceroos didn’t give it their best shot. Most people we have met have been happy to find out we are Australian so we can only credit that to the way the lads have performed – let’s hope the rest of us don’t ruin their good work!

Tasty late night treats

Floripa: Where Everything and Nothing Co-exist

Floripa - Overlooking Lagoa da Conceição and Barra Da Lagoa

The logical place for all Australians to stop off at after the Netherlands game was Florianopolis – pretty much half-way between Porto Alegre and Curitiba, where Australia played Spain in our final group match.

Even though we are returning to Florianopolis, we thought we would follow the crowds and head there for a few days before the Aussie game. Leaving it so late to book meant we were short on options, but after a recommendation we tried our luck at Backpacker Sharehouse, who are the most accommodating hostel I have stayed at yet. They only had 2 beds for one of the 3 nights we wanted but offered to throw down a mattress so we could all stay in the same place and not have to move. Legends! They also serve up cheap home-cooked meals, where there is ample ale and you eat too much, but we can’t really blame them for that.

View from our dorm room at Backpacker Sharehouse

We had heard it’s a place where you can party if that’s what floats your boat, or relax if that’s what tickles your fancy. To be honest I think we were all quite happy to relax for the majority and throw in a party or two to keep us in the festive mood.

There was a Fat Boy Slim gig organised by the Fanatics on our second night, but given it was bound to be crowded with Fanatics we decided to stay clear of that one. Instead, after catching up with some mates, watching a few games and drinking a few froths, we hit up a local Salsa Club and attempted to dance the night away. I’d have to say I wasn’t drunk enough to perform to the best of my ability, but did end up being a 4.30am night after getting back to catch the last quarter of the Hawks v Pies game.

Lagoa da Conceição and Barra Da Lagoa

The rest of the time in Floripa was spent relaxing by the water, hiking up the hill to get a view of Lagoa da Conceição and Barra Da Lagoa, and over to Praia Mole.

Priaia Mole, Lagoa da Conceição and Barra Da Lagoa

All in all, a great place to do absolutely anything and everything, or nil, naught and f_ck all!

Praia Mole

Porto Alegre: Oranje Fever

After finally arriving in Porto Alegre we made our way to the hostel and made plans for the following day – it was the sole reason we were there.

We had heard that the Dutch organise a small party (more like a gathering in the main square) before their games and then all walk down to the stadium together. Given the Aussie’s lack that sort of organisation, we thought we may as well join them.

We got to the main square a little before 9am with a few tins in tow. One of the best things about most places outside of Australia is that you can street drink, so after a few tins, we found some more and joined the rest of the Dutch on the march towards the stadium.

The march towards Estádio Beira-Rio

On our way we meet Strapperoo, who was quickly becoming a minor celebrity in Porto Alegre. A mild-mannered, Italian accountant according to his bushy bearded mate, Bernie, Marco has been gallivanting around major sporting events (Football World Cups, Cricket World Cups) in a rather sweaty looking Kangaroo suit complete with boxing gloves and a large set of nuts! Obviously every man and his dog wanted a picture with Strapper so the walk was rather slow, but that suited us just fine.

Strapper conducting one of his many interviews

I’ll hand it to them, the Dutch know how to get in the mood for the game. Complete with marching band we slowly made our way towards the stadium, stopping along the way to top up our tins from opportunistic entrepreneurial Brazilians.

Arriving at the stadium we were all a good half dozen cans in, very jovial but not with too high hopes – how things quickly changed! I’m sure everyone has read and seen Timmy Cahill’s goal, but to answer the Dutch (and our Dutch Kiwi mates sitting next to us) so quickly with such a sublime effort was one of the best sporting moments I have had the pleasure of experiencing in the flesh!

Happy days at half time!

And after Mile ‘Mike’ Jedinak converted from the spot to put us in front, we really didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Our Dutch Kiwi mates were speechless, and the pure joy and adulation from all the Aussies in the stadium is what makes sports such a great part of our lives.

Jedinak coolly converting from the spot

And although that joy was short lived, it is something I will remember and cherish for a long time yet. After the game, Dutch fans were humble in their victory, with many feeling the same as a lot of Aussies – that they were lucky. And even though that result near on put us out of the Cup, most Aussies were still happy and proud with the efforts of the lads in yellow.

We then made our way to the fan fest to watch the Spain v Chile game, the result dumping us from the Cup but still, the froths were flowing and it was only 6pm. We had managed to meet up with some mates from home, and the night’s festivities were still to be had.

Although a fair amount of this is a blur, the streets of Porto Alegre were in full party mode, with the Dutch marching band assuring the party would go long into the night! It was during this time that I was offered a Dutch flag for my sweaty, beer stained Aussie fanatics singlet which I eagerly accepted and shall be getting on the Oranje bandwagon for the rest of the Cup.

The streets of Porto Alegre come alive to the sweet sounds of the Oranje marching band!

Porto Alegre – thanks for having us, sorry we made a mess!

Rio de Janeiro: Where Stars Shine, FIFA wanes and Froths Reign Supreme

After a longer than expected travel day we finally found our accommodation – all this with no signage out the front of the hostel, and our info telling us it was number 44, not 444!

The next day was World Cup Opening, and to be honest we really didn’t know what to expect. We spent the morning getting ourselves familiarised with Copacabana which was where all the action was to take place.

Luckily for us (and unbeknown at the time of booking) our accommodation was only a 5 minute walk from the Fan Festival and the big screens. After making some loose plans with some friends, we decided to skip the official Fan Fest area (people had been lining up since 10am for the 5pm kick, so it safe to say that place was packed!) and bring our own tins down to the beach and watch the game on one of the big screens set up on Copacabana Beach.

We set up shop nestled in with about 30,000 other cadets, most of them being Brazilian, but a fair representation from all over. Lucky, or unlucky, for us, a group of young English lads took up residence just behind us. These lads were to provide the majority of the entertainment for the first half of the evening. Especially when Brazil went down a goal. Just like the Barmy Army, these lads were full of chants, and they just kept them coming.

Copacabana on Opening Day - FIFA Fan Fest and Sugarloaf Mountain in the background

The sights, sounds and colours of Copacabana on opening day were what many lads would describe as ‘Dream Areas’. Brazilian’s clad as only Brazilians can be, hawkers selling everything from Caipirinhas to prawns on a stick, and of course the world biggest game, on the grand opening.

After the initial shock of going behind through an own goal, the prodigal Brazilian son, the guy on the back of 99% of Brazilian shirts, Neymar Jr. scored the equaliser that brought the crowd back to their feet. Fire crackers were set off, beers were wasted, shit I’m even sure I saw a free prawn sticks chucked around in celebration. And half way through the second Brazil got what they were ultimately after. A controversial penalty brought Neymar to the spot where he duly converted and had the crowd in raptures. I can only imagine the noise in the stadium!

The rest of the game was celebrated in true party style, with Oscar icing the celebrations during injury time. We milled around the beach afterwards and eventually made our way back to the hostel to see Patty Mills and the Spurs take a commanding 3-1 lead on the NBA finals. Along the way I introduced Nic and Al to the genius that is Frenchy - for those that don't know him, look him up, laughs all round!

Introducing Frenchy!

The next day, hangover in check Nic and I strolled down to Ipanema for a swim and some relaxing before backing it up for the Netherlands v Spain game, and the main event – the Australia v Chile game. This time we thought we would check out the FIFA Fan Fest area as we were sure the Aussie game wouldn’t attract as big a following as the Brazilian opener!

The Fan Fest is set up like a mini concert, with the main stage at the end with drinking outlets spread out on either side. The crowd had seemed to split into Australian and Chilean halves, so naturally we migrated to the rest of the Aussies.

Advance Australia Fair was sung with gusto I haven’t heard it sung for years – more than likely due to the fact that most of the singers were a good half dozen cans deep! I wouldn’t say we were stunned into silence with the 2 Chilean goals in the space of 3 minutes but from my vast football knowledge (which is limited at best) we had played better than a 2-0 start indicated.

We were quickly back up and about when Cahill got us on the board, and the Aussie contingent was by far the most animated for the majority of the second half. And again, I believe many would feel the 3-1 end shoreline did not give the Aussie lads credit. Still it had been a good start to the nights’ festivities, and when in Rio, the nights festivities are often long and fun filled.

T. Cahill in the moment!

We ran into the ‘Let’s Get Rugby League Drunk’ lads, and fair to say they may have been nudging ‘Origin Drunk’ status but were all in good spirits and fun to be around. So I suppose that might just make them drunk instead of the aforementioned levels of inebriation, as my understanding of ‘Rugby League Drunk’ is the tendency to cause inappropriate amounts of damage to anything and anyone in the near vicinity. Still, I’m sure they were feeling it the next day.

Commiserating post Australia v Chile in the FIFA Fan Fest

We made plans to meet up at one of the clubs in Lapa, but due to the differing levels of inebriation, the decided upon club was in fact in Copacabana, not Lapa. That said, we headed in to Lapa (after watching the Kings claim the second Stanley Cup in 3 years) with the hope of finding our friends. All to no avail and after walking around for a few hours taking in the famous Lapa Street Party, Nic and I were cooked.

Gettin' 'Rugby League' Drunk

Saturday was a more sedate day, as we took in Copacabana for what it usually is – a world famous tourist beach! The swell was actually quite good so I enjoyed myself for a good hour or two with Nic venturing past the shallows only when the waves permitted. It was actually quite a surreal experience to be catching some waves whilst also watching the Uruguay vs Costa Rica game from the big screen! Only in Rio. We stuck around in Copacabana for the England v Italy game and enjoyed a few cold froths and some illicit vodka in the Fan Zone before crashing back at the hostel.

Sunday was game day for us. Argentina v Bosnia in Rio’s opening match at Estádio do Maracanã. The Argentinians had been full of voice throughout the first few days of the Cup, and the noise of the stadium did not disappoint! With 75,000 people, we can only guess that about 50,000 were glad in blue and white, with about 49,999 wearing the number 10! The rest of the crowd appeared to be made up of a few thousand neutral (soon to be converted Argentinian) fans, a few thousand actual Bosnian fans, and 20,000 ‘whoever is playing Argentina’ Brazilian fans! The rivalry apparent between the two countries puts our Ashes rivalry to shame! But for the most part, all was done in good spirits!

Argentina v Bosnia at Estádio do Maracanã

The noise of the Argentinians was something that has to be seen to be believed – yeah I reckon you could see the noise as well as hearing it! They never stopped! And the Brazilians were quite adamant in their non-support to go along with it!

The Brazilian section of the crowd clad in yellow

One of the highlights for me came when Messi lined up to take a free kick yards out of the box. The Argentinians took up their chant of ‘Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole…Messi, Messi’, only for him to balloon the free kick well wide and not trouble the defence. This chant was immediately answered by the Brazilians with ‘Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole…Neymay, Neymar’. And not 2 verses (not sure if you can call them verses but you get my drift) into this, Messi answered all calls with a superb finish that sent the Argentinians into fever pitch – the ‘Messi’ah truly had returned!

Messi 'ballooning' the free kick

I have been to a few sporting contests in my time, but it’s safe to say I have never experienced anything of the like. The atmosphere, the constant noise and the spectacle has almost converted me – if only all ‘soccer’ games were like this!

Honorary Argentinian for the night

We have since spent 18 hours in transit making our way to Porto Alegre for the Australia v Netherlands game – and we are only half way there. We overnighted in Curitiba airport and have had our next flight delayed due to fog and weather conditions. This was all after thinking we were being kicked completely out of the airport at 12am. A breakdown in communication meant we were only getting kicked out of the departure lounge, the main areas of the airport remained open and we even stumbled across a ‘Fun Zone’ that had small mattresses for those lucky enough, and pillows that granted us a few hours of sleep before these further setbacks.

Our humble abode in Curitiba Airport

Hopefully I can post this one from Porto Alegre before gearing up to get back on the Cup bandwagon and see how much the locals love Brazil and hate FIFA!

All up it took us 23.5 hours, with only 2.5 hours of flying and 21 hours of waiting around! Got to love travelling!

On a side note, when we did finally touch down in Porto Alegre, there was a buxom vixen waiting for us handing out free cans of Budweiser – best landing present ever!

Duly rewarded after a hard day travelling

Ilha Grande: The Return of the Shitty Shower

Aquario Pousada - our humble abode for a few nights

We had a nice quiet few days on Ilha Grande, unwinding and relaxing before the festivities of Rio and the World Cup.

Ilha Grande is one of the most serene places I have been to. An island filled with rolling hills covered in jungle type vegetation, and surrounded by crystal clear blue waters. You can spend your days swinging in a hammock watching the world go by, or trekking to one of the many white sandy beaches with long right handers rolling through.

We spent our days doing a mixture of these with the highlight the 9km trek out to Lopez Mendez for a day of beach activities. The walk to Lopez Mendez takes you past three other beaches and up and over one of Ilha Grande’s highest hills where you get a view back down towards the main township,  Vila do Abraão, which is worth the hike in itself.

View back towards Vila do Abraão

After about 2 hours you are rewarded with the some of the softest white sand that squeaks underfoot, and the perfect break to appease the beginner surfer in all of us.

Lopez Mendez

We whiled away the night hours making our own Caipirinhas, slowly getting jolly enough to check out what Vila do Abraão had to offer. For about $3.50 AUD you can get your hands on a 1L bottle of Cachaça, steal some limes from the hostel fruit bowl (or bar), help yourself to the tea and coffee sugar supply, borrow some ice from some Frenchies and you have yourself and a few mates’ drinks for the night.

After one such night we headed into town to see what was happening. A few hours later we returned to the hostel to find somewhat of a raging party happening. Not really raging, but for Ilha Grande standards it was all they had. And given we appeared to be the only guests at the hostel when we left, to come back to a party was a strange surprise. This wasn’t the only surprise of the night.

Upon entering the bathroom to have a shower I noticed the hallway was flooded. Opening the bathroom door revealed a weeks’ worth of sewerage happily covering every square inch of the place. From the looks of things, the toilet had been clogged up and continual flushing had forced the toilet contents to find another pathway home via the shower drain. Fair to say I wasn’t volunteering myself to help clean the mess, and nor was I going to have a shower that night either.

We have since left the relaxing ways of Ilha Grande and familiarised ourselves with the organised chaos that is Rio de Janeiro.

Lopez Mendez

Paraty: Let’s Get Rugby League Drunk

Paraty

After 5 memorable weeks in Chile we flew into Sao Paulo for what is no doubt going to be one hell of a hectic month whilst the World Cup is on. But it is the reason we are here.

We met up with Big Al in Sao Paulo and introduced him to our way of travelling – usually the cheapest, and often the longest way of getting to places.

In hindsight we may have been better off staying a night in Sao Paulo, as the big fella had just come off about 50 hours of travel, and due to the size of the kid, he rarely fits on planes, let alone sleeps on them. But we didn’t. And after a local bus ride, a couple of trains, a 3 hour wait and a 6 hour bus ride we finally made it to Paraty late that evening.

Colours of Paraty's Ports 

Paraty is an old colonial town on the coast, filled with uneven cobble stone streets and surrounded by 50 something islands. We spent our first day on a boat cruising between the islands, making a few stops at a couple of the sandy beaches along the way.

One of Paraty's many islands

First beach stop

One of the benefits of having Al with us for this leg of the trip is that Nic no longer has to keep me amused by throwing the ball with me. Don’t get me wrong, Nic is usually keen to throw the ball around for a good 10 minutes, but unfortunately that usually isn’t enough for me. So with Al in tow, Nic gets some time to herself while me and the big fella amuse ourselves for hours on end like two dogs chasing the same ball. I suppose one of the negatives for Nic is now me and Al spend a good half the day talking sports. But you have to take the good with the bad, hey!

The following day we made our way out to a waterfall called Cachoeira do Toboga which has two different sections of the falls. One they call Tarzan Falls which has an 8-10m rock to jump off, and the second, Toboga, which you can slide down. We spent a few hours at Tarzan Falls before heading down to see what Tobogo was all about.

Tarzan Falls

After standing around for 5 or so minutes trying to get an idea of how and where you slide down it, one of the local lads comes strolling in, complete with budgie smugglers and a cheeky grin. He proceeds to splash water around, wetting the areas of the rock not already slippery as f_ck, then gets a run up, hits the slippery section and surfs his way down the rock, with nothing but his feet and budgie smugglers. Fair to say we hadn’t expected that! We then proceeded to make little kids of ourselves sliding down the rock on our arses, backs, stomachs, but no one could manage the stand up.

Toboga Falls

That night there were a number of football friendlies on with Brazil accounting for Serbia in the first match and Australia facing Croatia in the second. We had been steadily drinking with some Sydney lads who were somewhat more into their football than us. And on this particular night, somewhat more into their drink as well. After a rousing rendition of Advance Australia Fair, one of the lads exclaimed, ‘Let’s get rugby league drunk!’ Apparently this is a fair step up from your standard drunken behaviour, with only ‘State of Origin Drunk’ sitting higher on the drunk scale.

That gave us a nice little insight into what will no doubt be a nightly encounter once the World Cup begins.

Valparaíso: A Tale of Three Cities

The night lights of Valparaíso

After the excitement of Pucón we took the overnight bus to Valparaíso to get back into the ‘cultural backpacker’ swing of things. We did our first walking tour of the trip – something we did in pretty much every European city a few years back.

We both really enjoyed the Valparaíso walking tour, getting an insight into the city that only locals can give. Walking through the hills of Valparaíso both Nic and I were reminded of our time in Europe – not only because we were going to stooge the guide because we are stingy backpackers (don’t worry we tipped generously) but Valparaíso reminded us of three cities we loved during our time in Europe.

The city itself, with its 50 something hills meandering down towards the water reminded us of Porto, Portugal – pity they didn’t have quite as good supply of Port! The multi-coloured houses of the city took us back to Corniglia on the Cinque Terra. Literally no neighbouring houses were the same colour, and not too many were your standard white and grey, they are all bright colours (many in need of a new coat or two) and give the city a friendly, vibrant feel to it.

Valparaíso doing its best Corniglia impression 

Walking through the narrow, winding streets of the city, with colourful doors and doorsteps and many blind corners had us reliving our time in Chefchaouen, Morrocco – although from memory I was a little more afraid to fart in Chefchaouen, if you get my drift.

Valparaíso is also well known for its street art – with many famous artists invited to the city over the years to add to the vibrant nature of the streets. Although not quite in the realm of the East Side Gallery of Berlin, there a still a number that turn heads.

Valparaíso's very own classy lady 

We ended our time in Valparaíso in true ‘frisky’ backpacker style – a bottle of Valparaíso’s finest (and cheapest) Red, sampled out of Tupperware containers, up on a hill watching the sunset over the hills and the city night lights come to life.

Doing what backpackers do best!

Sunset over the hills of Valparaíso