SENSUAL HEALING
I sit listening to a vegan cafe proprietor tell me how São Paulo is the most sensual city in the world as he massages coarse scented salts into my hands. I’m unsure how to respond. He sprays a fine mist over my head which deposits into the enormous breakfast sat in front of me & proudly points at the egg. It doesn’t taste like an egg.
I don’t recall my first visit 14 years ago as being sensual, but this time around, I get it.
The buzz of the imminent carnival hangs in the air & lifts corners of mouths like it’s the first day of Spring. Sequins & lace hug scantily clad bodies as they shimmy towards the rehearsal shows, whistles hung around necks, cans of Brahma in hands.
The vibe here is different to Rio, where tanned, toned bodies with pert boobs & butts are the norm. There aren’t many places in the world where I truly feel part of society; I do here. I can be invisible yet seen, I can take part yet sit back, no one judges, it’s progressive, you’re never forced to dance, yet you’ll constantly feel the urge to. Uniqueness & diversity are celebrated. It’s a cultural swimming pool that makes you want to dive in, headfirst.
The last time I was in Latin America for carnival, I went in search of the smallest Andean town in Bolivia I could find (it was still crazy), but this time I was ready to embrace it fully. My adorable host took me to some of her favourite groups (bloquinos), all special in their own way. The all-female group (the only one that finished on time); the traditional Bahia group (where dancers performed with instruments known as the abe); the LGBTQIA+ group (what a party & it was only the rehearsal) & the most sensual group of all, where it appeared that anyone could be part of the band. There was even a bloquino that welcomed crackheads as a form of rehabilitation.
I reluctantly dance out of Brazil thanks to an expired visa. I’d move to the fourth most populated city in the world, & the most sensual, in a heartbeat.
💃🪘🪇☀️🌧️🍺🍷🥖🧀🍣🍜🍱☕️🕺🥁🎺🎨🥥
😍 Incredible street art
😬 Walking into crack-city, & walking out
😋 Indulging in the best sushi
🥹 Cute store owners gift me an ice-cold coconut
😬 Continuous flood warnings
SKY’S THE LIMIT 🌅
At the heart of South America lies a state the size of France and Germany combined. It’s Brazil’s third largest and boasts three biomes – the Amazon rainforest, the Cerrado tropical savanna and the World’s most expansive wetlands, the Pantanal. My curiosity led me to endure a 35-hour bus ride to explore the area, one with boundless natural wealth and home to some of the world’s richest fauna and flora. The state, Mato Grosso means ‘Thick Bush’ in Portuguese; I hoped it lived up to its name.
Hours after I leave the state of Para in the north, immense changes in the landscape are noticeable. The Amazon’s towering, luscious, thick bush dissolves into vast, expansive spaces. 34 million beating hearts of cattle vibrate through the plains. This is what the second-largest beef producer in the world looks like. Alongside the animals are never-ending fields of soybean and ugly industrial factories. It’s big business in Brazil; they’re global leaders when it comes to soybean production. Although policies are in place, it’s hard to imagine that large-scale cattle ranching and agriculture aren’t a major driver of deforestation.
Wrapped around these booming trades are an abundance of natural wonders – the mighty Chapadas (Highland plateaus) are home to beautiful waterfalls, regular sightings of jaguars can be found on the Pantanal, it’s awash with mountains, caves, forests and rivers. Unfortunately, I don’t explore much due to being struck down with Chikungunya, a mosquito-borne viral disease, that wipes me out for a fortnight.
What leaves the most lasting impression are the breathtaking skies, visible for kilometers across the infinite plains. They look like paintings and are as stunning as the skies that grace Serengeti.
☀️⛰️🧘♀️🥾🐵🦉🦋🦟🐄🥩🍞🧀🍱🍦🍻🏊♀️🤒🍝
☺️ A bus company worker personally made me coffee because I couldn’t find any without sugar
🥹 My gorgeous host who took me to the hospital, pharmacy and looked after me when I was sick
😬 The only non-meat offering at service stations – pão de queijo
😱 I stayed in a place so eerie that it felt like the perfect place for a murder
😂 My craving for a school dinner when I was ill
NORTHERN DELIGHTS 🕷️
You know those big, juicy, hairy spiders, the ones as big as your palm? Well, I’ve got over those. All it took was learning to live with crickets, thousands of them, an infestation. They got in my hair, face, clothes (that I had on), they loved hiding in my pants, flew into my bra as I walked down the street, hopped onto my food, casually appeared on my bed – it just got too much. They’re not dangerous or spread disease but the thing is, they jump, and then I jump. Spiders don’t jump. I can deal with spiders now.
Emit the 80K crickets (and a dusting of pervy men) and Alter do Chão is a joyful place (and one that rarely sleeps). The town still prides itself on a Guardian article about 15 years ago that states it’s the jungle’s answer to the Caribbean. I wouldn’t exactly say that the water resembles Caribbean green apart from some areas rich in algae, but being able to visit a beach town in the heart of the Amazon in Brazil is pretty cool.
Part of the journey to reach Alter do Chão involved a 38-hour ferry journey and sleeping in a hammock for two nights. The ferry meandered along the Amazon River in the state of Para in the northeast corner of Brazil, occasionally passing sleepy villages barely visible from the mystical weather.
I met so many locals from Rio and São Paulo who visited Alter do Chão for the weekend and never left. They welcomed me like one of their own, inviting me into their homes for a Christmas feast, coffee, to watch the birds, lunch, beer or just for a natter. This warmth and generosity led me to an indigenous community deep in the jungle where I was the first visitor ever to step foot in their forest.
I had to go through that travel thing again, the one where I try to leave a place that feels like home. The crickets finally fucked off, so I did too.
☀️🍉🏝️🥭🥥🐵🐛🦋🦗🛶⛴️🛖🦎🐠🐬🦜🧘♀️🏊♀️🚴♀️🪇
😍 Exploring swimming holes engulfed in nature
😬 Smashed a mirror trying to kill a cricket
😋 Daily visits to the lush cafe Ayô with the most gorgeous food
🥹 The community Christmas day for the kids, too cute
😂 I’d tell people I don’t speak Portuguese in Portuguese and people would just speak to me in Portuguese
JOY-FULL 💫
The firework I look forward to the most on New Year’s Day is the one composed of 365 scribbles on Post-its that fill my gratitude jar. I’m whisked back to tiny nuggets of joy, often recalling moments of how someone made me feel. It’s my perfect way to start the new year, reflecting on forgotten but significant moments that instantly lower my maxed-out cortisol levels & plunge me into a drunken oxytocin stupor.
Moments of gratitude are in abundance from the three weeks I spent in the Surinamese jungle whilst living with a Maroon community (plantation slaves of African descent who escaped to the Amazon). I’m welcomed with open arms & huge smiles. Some of the older generations only speak in their native tongue, Saramaccan, a Creole blend of English, Dutch, Portuguese & African. It’s challenging to grasp; I manage the very basics.
Daily rituals consist of filling buckets of water promptly at 6pm when it’s turned on, boiling, cooling, then freezing it; charging appliances all before the noisy generator switches off & retains calm after a few hours; snoozing in the afternoon after a glucose slump from the spongy sweet bread supplied by the only baker in the village & bathing in the river at sunset, the place that connects the community. I was never alone. Intrigued children visited me every day & were drawn to me like magnets as I meandered through the village (I looked like the Pied Piper). We’d pause under the shade to suck on sweet ice cream bean seed pods that they’d yanked from the tree.
Explorations included visiting eight villages dotted along the Suriname River, trekking through the bush, paddling down the tranquillity of the river to cool off in the rapids, kayaking amongst the eerie dead forest in Brokopondo & celebrating Saramaccan Day in a neighbouring village.
I leave with a lump in my throat & a full cup.
☀️🐆🌊🐚🥾🎣🐵🐠🎆🏊♀️⛪️🐔🪳🦎🦜🍉🥥🥖☕️🧘♀️🚌🛶🗺️🛖🌅🐦⬛🎨🥬
😍 Seeing 50 birds take a bath
😬 I painted a sign (not my best work) to assist a local farmer
😋 Making Bombay potatoes & chapatis with an Amerindian boy
🥹 The surprise of fresh green vegetables delivered from the city
😂 Seeing fresh jaguar prints & legging it
HAPPY LANDINGS 💫
The second I step onto Surinamese soil, I see a significant shift. Locals smile, they’re happy to help & arm me with insider tips on what I should see & do. For the next few days, my jaw aches from a perpetual grin that spreads from ear to ear.
Suriname, a former Dutch plantation colony, is sandwiched between French Guiana to the east & Guyana to the west. Of the 1M Surinamese, 60% choose to live in the Netherlands. A mass exodus fled the country in 1975 when independence was granted, fearing corruption & a collapsed economy.
I book into a hostel in the capital, Paramaribo, eager to talk to people & suppress the speech impediment that arose during Covid through lack of chat. I spend the next five days marvelling at the charming Dutch green & white wooden buildings that pepper the centre & connect with as many locals as possible in the hope of organising a trip to the ‘interior’ (The Amazon). The two metres of annual rainfall keeps this pristine forest, which makes up 80% of the country, green & luscious.
The country is beautifully diverse with multiple ethnic groups navigating life harmoniously with each other. This means that the culinary offerings are a blend of south Asian, Javanese, Creole, Western African, & Chinese. One Sunday, I cycle past a Muslim mosque that sits next to a Jewish synagogue en route to the Chinese market. I load my tote with flakey custard tarts, chewy dough sticks, crunchy walnut biscuits & bouncy pineapple buns & indulge in a (very unhealthy beige) breakfast that immediately whisks me back to childhood. The pastries might not top French Guiana’s, but Suriname trumps in every other way. I think I’ll easily surpass the fortnight I spent in French Guiana.
☀️🥥🥭🥮🍜🌶️🍉🫚🥟🍺☕️🫘🏊♀️🧘♀️🐵🦋🐬🦜🦥🌴
😍 The generosity of locals who will go out of their way to assist you
😬 The oppressive summer temperatures reach 35 degrees but feel over 40
😋 Saoto, a Javanese healthy brothy soup & chunky crispy cassava chips with a peanut sauce
🥹 The mother who announces that I can stay in her house in the interior minutes after meeting her
😂 I chew numerous ears off when I arrive after barely chatting for a fortnight
THE HARD STUFF
For the next half hour, my eyes swim from the luggage belt at Cayenne airport to the sea of diverse faces eager to reunite with loved ones after their summer break.
I’ve just landed in the furthest east of the Guianas (French Guiana) perched above Brazil. Neighbouring Suriname is sandwiched in the middle, with Guyana sitting further west & bordering Venezuela.
Two-thirds of French Guiana’s 300K inhabitants are foreign-born. Numerous historical events including slavery, political unrest, civil wars, the Space Centre, natural disasters & gold discovery, have contributed to continuous waves of immigration. The swell in population is primarily made up of Brazilians, Surinamese, Haitians & French but others span from as far as China. The influx of Chinese keeps curious minds at bay. No one bats an eyelid at me even though this country is one of the least-travelled places I’ve ever visited, receiving just 120K tourists annually.
The majority of residents live along the Atlantic coastal path. Venture into the ‘interior’ – dense tropical rainforest that makes up the Amazon & sweeps across 90% of the country – & you’ll discover Maroon (Africans who escaped slavery) & Amerindian (Indigenous peoples) settlements. I’m desperate to explore this area; I see very little.
The infrastructure for travellers is non-existent & if you don’t speak French few will assist you. It’s the most challenging place I’ve travelled to in the world & I’m beaten – both mentally & physically exhausted.
I’m the final person to leave the baggage hall with that heavy sinking feeling that my luggage isn’t going to arrive. This is the beginning of the end & sums up my whole fortnight in the country. I’ll always remember French Guiana in two words. Fucking. Grueling.
☀️😔🤦♀️🩲🐵🐠🥖🍷🍜☕️🧘♀️🏊♀️⛴️🏝️🗺️🥾🎋🌴🌊🐢🧳
😍 Nature walks and swims in the Atlantic Ocean at the Salvation Islands
😋 Vietnamese pho in Cayenne market
☹️ I missed out on a rocket launch in Kourou due to technical difficulties
😂 Surviving with one pair of pants for five days
🥹 The man who gifted me churros for waiting patiently as he set up
It was a pleasure to work on these prints for @accumulate_ldn ’s 10th Anniversary Art Exhibition. Here’s to the next 10 years of using art and creativity to inspire those who’ve been affected by homelessness. @maricecumber , you’re my absolute hero for making all of this possible ❤️
📸 @mrpaulrider@maricecumber
#accumulateis10 #art #artschool #homelessness #design
ON REPEAT 💫
I hit send on the shit sandwich of arduous travel days with a promise of paradise for three days as the juicy filling. I squeal in delight when Jo opts for this adventure over the comfortable tourist trail (and briskly check her tolerance levels). Reliving some of my favourite explorations with a visiting friend was a real treat after essentially, doing a giant recce of the country.
The rewards are immense – our own private island on Pearl Cays, situated off the Caribbean coast but not as far as the touristy Corn Islands. The exclusive Calala Cay (a mere $12,000 for 3 nights) is within spitting distance of Crawl Cay where we’re staying in tents. I was apprehensive about whether we’ll sleep in our sweatboxes, but the gentle breeze never ceases.
We’re woken by rats flying over our tents, a rat gnawing through my tent to chow on the bakery (bag of bread from the bakery) and invaders on ‘our’ island, only to discover they are night-divers looking for delicacies.
Easing into the day with an epic sunrise, practicing yoga, swimming, fishing, cooking up and devouring a rundown feast, swimming, exploring the other Cays, dining, swimming into the sunset, dancing to Banana signing with his guitar and drinking Gifiti (local medicinal liquor) makes for a perfect day. And repeat.
The back end of the sandwich was a bit mangey and consists of over 12 hours of travel and changing six times. Fading towards the end, we receive a boost when the bus turns into a nightclub complete with cheesy music and a disco ball.
We end the trip with 4 days of chilling at Laguna de Apoyo, cooking tasty food, swimming in the crater lake, watching hummingbirds and swinging in hammocks while spotting monkeys.
It’s emotional as I bid farewell to a country filled with amazing people. I head home with my 600 bites.
☀️🏝🌊👙🐚⛺️🧘♀️🏊♀️🎣🍺🚤🐌🍉🥥🐬🦐🐠🦜🐵🐀🎸💃🍞
😍 The purity of the Pearl Cays
😬 Our captain tells us he’s lost the panga engine key – eagle-eyed Jo finds it
😋 Delicious ceviche in Masaya
🥹 Grace in Bluefields asking her friend to open up shop so we can buy veg
😂 Sinking in the panga on the way to Kahkabila with essentially a boat full of fizzy drinks
TWIN PEAKS 🌋🌋
The most rewarding places are often those you have to work harder for. Blood, sweat, tears & the tightest of itineraries later, I arrive at a little slice of heaven. The rewards are high. Sitting at 1610m, Volcan Conceptión is a majestic & active beast. I marvel at her beauty daily with a sundowner – a view I never tire of. Her inactive little sister, Volcan Madera is poised at 1394m. Both dominate Ometepe Isla which sits on Lake Nicaragua, the country’s largest lake.
Home for the week, Finca Magdalena, spans 850 acres & is immersed in nature. Sitting at the foothills of Madera, the volcanic ash makes the soil especially fertile & yields bountiful crops. What makes the farm special is that it’s directed by a collective of two dozen partners & their families.
R&R is high on my agenda this week. My favourite places are cooling off at the natural pool, engulfed in what feels like rainforest & the Puma Cafe in Altagracia, a social enterprise, backed by expats in terms of expertise & resources but one that supports education & conservation for the community. I join a free weekly English class for locals where we learn about the similarities of idioms in English & Spanish. A student studying there kindly loans me his bike for my duration on the island.
Ometepe is awash with places set up by expats for travellers that benefit expats. It’s easy to see how tourists are lured into the comforts of yoga, vegan food, sustainable eco-lodges, a spiritual home & fun-themed nights. Essentially it’s a resort for travellers with little opportunity to connect & support locals.
One food vendor I met by Playa Santa Cruz, travelled hours to sell quesillos (corn tortillas with cheese) to escape the competition around her in Masaya. Her earnings barely covered her travel – that journey that nearly ended me, she did twice a day.
☀️⛰️🧘♀️🚴♀️⛴️🚌🌅🏖️🛵🍺☕️🥗🌊🌳🌺🦜🐒💅👙
😍 Restoring & connecting with like-minded travellers
😬 Hurtling downhill towards a herd of cows on my bike with no breaks
😋 The cheese toasty on sourdough at Puma Cafe
😖 Getting ripped off by professionals at a bus station
🤯 Doing all to avoid the capital Managua but I had to extend my stay
