Black Gold

Otherwise known as Ouro Preto in Portugese. Pretty mining town 6 hours north of Rio with colonial buildings scattered around steep, winding cobbled stone streets even the locals find difficult to navigate. No wonder we missed our first bus of the trip. Not like we didn't give it our best (see sight of the week). More gold plated kirks than the vatican and a few ghosts of African slaves who mined the gold haunting them.

Got a feel of the mines ourselves in an Indiana Jones like adventure. Hopped into the original mine cart (with new cables - we hoped) and were lowered 300m at light speed down the shaft. After a tour of some of the shafts, some now under water, we asked the guide if we could swim in this underground pool (mineral spa anyone? well more like mineral freeze). With a "No problem" wave of the hand he left us on our own in the now eerily quiet and dark mine. Great op for silly photos just had to make sure we were out and changed before the next cart load of tourists arrived (hopefully that day?!).

Heading north, Brasil is becoming livelier (if that's possible) with African influenced music and partying filling the balmy nights, days and early mornings - yawn! Below is Stu being convinced by a local that no-the Bahian Berimbao is a musical instrument and not a fishing rod gone wrong. Shame Stu´s sense of rythym wasn't up to their version of the wobble board. Got a chance to hear the berimbao being plucked professionally later in Salvador and while maybe not appreciating its sound we appreciated the difficulty factor.You would have thought after our Cochamo hitchhiking adventure we'd have given up with the more off the beaten track journeys. But no - swelled by our mine cart adventure we decided to hit the tracks, with one of Brazils more pituresque train trips. That this train left from a two bit mining town in the middle of nowhere didn't deter us, nor did the locals finally convincing us that the train didn't actually leave from this town but another even smaller and more remote. Nor having to get out of bed at 5am to catch a bus to get to the train with only 3 bucks to our name due to small town ATM malfunction syndrome. Nor did finally getting to the train station (without tickets, gulp) to see this (Stu thought he'd bunk down on the pile of coal on the right but wanted to know if it was semi-cama, it's 12 hours to Vitoria afterall!).

All worked out well in the end with our party train full of locals hopping off and on between mining towns, cute kids selling us ices through the train window, the regular amusment of lifting our feet for the train sweeper, our cheese wine and coconut ice and pretty views of Brazillian rain forest - and not so of Brazillian rain-deforestation.

Arrived in Vitoria 12 hours later, covered in black soot (we understood the signs saying close the windows when the train goes through a tunnel, even if the locals didn´t). Ahh the glamour of international travel. See a sooty ear and fluffy hairdo below.

Love the travelling glamourpusses (still in love despite grot)

Sight of the week: 2 bright red, sweaty backpackers running up hills, so steep even the locals prefer to take a bus 50m uphill. But it gets better.....2 gringos who missed the bus, trying to catch it in a speedy taxi, unfortunately not speedy enough. Two unhappy gringos sitting at a bus station in the next town discovering that this small town has buses every hour to the place they are trying to get to -humph!