Fake money is burned and food is laid out for spirits many times throughout the year in accordance with the lunar calendar, but Ghost Month and particularly Ghost Day is the grand daddy of them all.  It is much like westerners consuming candy many times throughout the year until the feeding frenzy when the candy mother ship comes calling on October 31^st.  Typically, a table or tables are set up in front of the home, business or apartment building and food is laid out in a colorful arrangement, incense are lit and a steel cauldron resembling a medium size trash can is wheeled out in front of the table, or a makeshift fire pit is made, so that stacks upon stacks of fake yellow ghost money can be burnt.  Black plumes of smoke are seen billowing from street sides everywhere, making the air very hard to breathe. Since more than 90% of the population here are either Buddhist or Taoist, that means over twenty million people on this tiny island are burning stacks of paper at roughly the same time (Buddhist and Taoist ghost day falls on different days, but around the same time), even when most days reach a sweltering 36C degrees.

Makeshift fire pit for burning ghost money. Fongshan City, Taiwan.

Makeshift fire pit for burning ghost money. Fongshan City, Taiwan.

Nowadays, the festivities and superstitions are taken less seriously by younger generations, although they still take part in the ceremonies. The food laid has more to do with not needing an excuse to pig out on junk food, again, much like our Halloween. You will see a lot of chocolate bars and Oreo cookies and Coke, since the ones who will enjoy the food are the same people that paid for it with real money.  There are companies here that produce and distribute the yellow ghost money, and with twenty-plus million folks burning it on a monthly basis, I would imagine business is good.  I just wish they could produce something that millions of people could burn that didn’t insult the lungs and still somehow managed to appease the wandering souls. For more information on ghost month in Taiwan, click here.

Pigs are a traditional part of the Ghost Month feast, and you can literally see horse-sized pigs in parts of Taiwan during ghost month. Pigs are injected with water to bloat them to massive proportions. This pig, in Fongshan City, is relatively small.

Another unlucky fellow sacrificed to appease the spirit world. Fonghshan City, Taiwan.

In the early 17th Century, the Dutch arrived in Taiwan (then known as Ilha Formosa) in search of an Asian base for business with Japan. After driving out competing colonialists, the Dutch East India Company set about administering the island. Some of the locals — almost exclusively non-Han aboriginals at this point, as Mainland Chinese didn’t start to migrate to Taiwan until a few decades later — weren’t too keen on becoming a Dutch colony. When the Dutch ship The Golden Lion was shipwrecked in the coral surrounding Xiao Liu Qiu in 1622, the locals set-about sending a message to the Dutch by slaying all on-board. Nine years later, another Dutch ship, the Beverwijck was wrecked on the coral with similar results. As you can imagine, The Dutch were none too pleased, and in 1636 a Dutch ship landed on Xiao Liu Qiu to avenge the two shipwreck massacres and send a message to aboriginal groups still resisting Dutch rule. The Dutch chased about 300 islanders into the cave that is today known as Black Ghost Cave, blocked up all the holes, and poured noxious sulphur and pitch into the mix. After days of screaming, all 327 inhabitants in the cave suffocated, and the remaining inhabitants were captured and sold as slaves. Numerous other raids resulted in the island being completely and totally depopulated in 1645, when the last 13 locals were removed.

We awoke early on Saturday and drove our scooters South along Route 17 to Dong Gang, which lies about 11km south of Kaohsiung County, but took about an hour-and-a-bit to get to from our apartment in the north of Kaohsiung. It’s easy to say Taiwan is a juxtaposition — few countries don’t have dichotomous sides and angles — but it amazes me how Taiwan is at the same time both breathtakingly beautiful and hideously ugly at the same time. The drive south through the industrial parks outside Kaohsiung city took us past pipelines, smokestacks, abandoned gas stations, and a scarred and abused countryside, with patches of fertile green desperately reaching up through the concrete.

Fleeing the industrial outskirts of Kaohsiung, Taiwan

Once in Dong Gang, we found the wharf without too much difficulty, making it just in time for the 9:00am ferry. Round-trip tickets cost NT$410, with an additional charge to bring your scooter on board. Our 150cc bike cost NT$200 each way. The ferry only takes 25 minutes or so, and we stood on the lower deck to watch the city, and the smog, recede from view. Breathe in. Fresh air. Ahhhhh-mazing! As we got further from the “mainland,” the water changed from the opaque, soothing grey I identify with as the Pacific from my childhood to the vibrant and deep color of a sapphire — the Pacific of dreams and musicals.

Onboard the ferry from Dong Gang to Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan

Our bikes, some fresh pollution, and a receding view of Taiwan's main island.

Peace on the ferry to Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

We arrived on the island around 9:30am, had a short wait for our bikes to be driven off by ship stewards, and drove into the fresh air, sunshine, and tiny port community lined on the one side of the street with tourist shops and on the other with boats populated by fishermen, some of them already sharing Taiwan beers in preparation for the long and already hot day ahead. We drove uphill, around a bend, and arrived at the Lingyun Temple, a typically colourful Taiwanese temple with a spectacular view over the Taiwan Straight. From the temple, we were able to wander down to the ocean, past old women making ghost money and an old man selling dried fish, where we caught our first glimpse of Flower Vase rock, one of the premier attractions on the island. Taiwan’s tourism industry is an enigma to me: many sites labelled as tourist attractions really shouldn’t be. Marketing strangely shaped rocks as can’t miss tourist sites seemed to be Xiao Liu Qiu’s specialty.

Arriving at Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Morning Beer. Some fishermen in Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Ling Yun Temple, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan

If I were Confucius, I'd be happy with this seaside shrine. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Flower Vase Rock is a star attraction on Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

From flower vase rock, we hopped back on our scooters and drove to a platform overlooking and affording a spectacular view of the sea. From this vantage point, we could see the coral reefs surrounding the island and a few sea turtles flopping in the distant waves. Standing there, overlooking the lush green foillage, the sandy beaches in the distance, and the bright blue sea, we felt like we were in a universe entirely apart from the smog and people in Kaohsiung – spectacular!

View from Sea Pavillion. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Sea Turtle. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

We next visited a site which is called — depending on the source — the beauty cave or beauty hole. Like flower vase rock, the beauty hole was one of many strange rock formations located in close proximity, each of which was uniquely named and presented as its own attraction worthy of a photo. I got my photo taken at the Lover’s Platform, but lost steam and breezed through Bat Cave, Fairy Spring, A Thread of Sky, Banyan Rock, and Valley Rock. By this point it was close to 11am, and the heat was stifling. We checked the temperature as we were leaving Kaohsiung before 8am, at which point it was already 31C. We drove to Geban Bay for a swim and some beach combing.

Cooling off at Geban Bay, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Throwing the disc around. Geban Bay, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Being a coral island, there was lots to be found on the beach. Geban Bay, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Being a coral island, there was lots to be found on the beach. Geban Bay, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Treasures. Geban Bay, Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

After cooling off, we set off to find Black Devil Cave, where the 327 islanders were trapped and suffocated by the Dutch. The cave was surrounded by busloads of eager tourists trying to get in. The entrance to the cave was down a steep set of narrow steps, and there seemed to be a perpetual train of people trying to both enter and exit the cave through the entrance, making the cramped space all the more uncomfortable. When we got to the narrowest part of the cave, we saw why. It was a sliver through which everyone who had already climbed down the steep steps and waited in line was expected to shimmy through. Of the four of us, only one managed to actually climb through the sliver and exit the cave through the intended exit. The rest of us had to turn around and fight the wrong way up the stairs to the entrance, against a new busload of people eagerly awaiting their turn. Not well thought out.

We hopped back on our scooters and drove to Lobster Cave, oddly named given we didn’t see any evidence of lobsters (lots of crabs though) and the site wasn’t in fact a cave. We finished circumnavigating the island about four hours after we began, and drove back into town for some refreshements at the 7-11. We caught the 3pm ferry back into Dong Gang (it left at 2:45 – arrived early), and began the drive back into town, crowning the day with a well-deserved nap. Despite the tourist attractions that aren’t particularly noteworthy if not for the quirkiness of it all, the island itself is an attraction: it’s a beautiful speck in a bright blue sea, easily accessible from the smog of Kaohsiung.

Being an island built around fishing, there is seafood everywhere. Dried silver fish. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Dried silver fish. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Swordfish? Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

Gutting a fish. Xiao Liu Qiu, Taiwan.

When one lands in Taiwan, one is issued a 30 day landing visa which permits one to stay in the country for…you guessed it, 30 days.  This is a non-transferable type of visa.  This means it cannot be transferred to a working permit.  A tourist visa, which you must purchase beforehand can be.  The way around this is to simply land, find a job and have your employer apply for an extension which can be transferable within the 30 days you are allotted.  Closer inspection of my passport, however, revealed that I was given a 90 day landing visa when we arrived, not 30.  Katie was given the proper 30 day visa from the customs agent that she passed through, I went through another booth.  Katie’s documents were processed in time and she didn’t have any issues.  I, on the other hand, presumed that 90 days meant 90 days.  I have been to many countries now and I stay as long as they say I can stay, which is recorded in your passport.  The labour office, who was processing my work permit, alerted my employer of the error and that they had notified the Foreign Affairs Department.  The Foreign Affairs Department said that I was issued the wrong stamp upon arrival and that I needed to have that stamp voided and a new stamp (30 days) issued retroactive to the day I landed.  Herein lies the problem, I have already been in the country more than 30 days.  Foreign Affairs now says I must pay a fine, have a permanent record for overstaying my visa and leave the country.  Ok, what?  Overstay, what?  Arguments ensued  between my employer and the Foreign Affairs Department but there is no winning that battle.  Their fault?  Yes, does it matter?  No.  24 hours, leave the country, don’t care where.  What do I do?  I call my wife, who is in the middle of teaching a class, and inform her that I will be withdrawing a large sum of money from our bank account and I will be in Hong Kong until further notice.  I leave on a Saturday for Hong Kong, my passport sets off an alarm at the emigration counter, more arguments and filling out paperwork and by the end of it, receiving a full page stamp in my passport indicating that I am not allowed back into the Republic of China for one year, unless, I return on a working visa.  What the what?  The passport office in Hong Kong did not open until 9am Monday morning.  I arrived at 9:01am and took my number and waited.  I was armed with every document I could get my hands on.  An invitation letter from my employer, an approved copy of same stamped by the government, an approval letter from the labour board, a copy of my contract etc.  When my number was called, they inform me that they do not issue working visas at their office, resident or tourist only.  Crap!  Double crap!  A flip of the coin told me to apply for a resident visa and hope for the best.

I returned at 4pm that afternoon to pick up my visa.  What they do not tell you is that they actually don’t even issue visas of any kind.  They simply approve you, staple a document inside your passport and tell you which office in Taipei’s Taoyuan International Airport  you can pick up your visa.  Ummm, I am not going to Taipei, I am going to Kaohsiung.  Uh-oh, came the reply.  So now I don’t have a working visa, or any visa.  I have a piece of paper that says I can get one in Taipei, but I certainly don’t have what they told not to come back without.  I threw a good deal of caution to the wind and returned to Kaohsiung.  Humming and hawing and reluctant to let me pass, but the customs agent lectured me and let me in under strict orders to sort out my paperwork within one week.  Agreed.  Since then my documents have been processed and I now have my Alien Resident Certificate  (ARC), my work permit and I am awaiting my national health card.  Although I have no fondness for how the situation played out or how it was handled, I kept my composure through it all.  As much as I wanted to play the blame game, raise hell and start pointing fingers, customs agents and Foreign Affairs Departments are not people you want to piss off.  With a quick click of a mouse they can make any future travel plans pretty miserable.  And besides, as Katie pointed out to me, we have spent the last year of our lives paring down to be easily mobile and ready for adventure, let the universe decide if we are to be in Taiwan.  As it turned out, it’s Taiwan for now.

So with a couple days to kill in a very rainy Hong Kong, I charged up the camera and went walking.  The first night was spent over a lonely couple of beers at Lan Kwai Fong, a party and bar area of the central district.  Over the next couple days I strolled the streets from the Western District to Central, past Admiralty to Wan Chai, where the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre is, and on to Causeway Bay, then a bus to Stanley Market, when I was tired, I took the tram, when it poured I stopped at a coffee shop and watched business men and women running to and fro with newspapers over their heads like they do in the movies.  Hong Kong is full of breathtaking views and stunning architecture with just enough english to be comfortable, but with all the Asian randomness and wonderfulness thrown in.  It has a good mix of old and new world.  Competing hard for the title of “fashion capital”, every brand name under the sun has a shop and likely a trade office also, more cargo companies than you can count, embassies, electronic and airline companies.  If you can think of any large company, they will have an office in Hong Kong.  It truly is the business gateway to Asia.  Here are some snaps on my time in exile:

A political protest, Hong Kong

The world's longest covered escalator, Hong Kong

Iron gates and steps to a mosque, about halfway up the Mid-Level Escalators, Hong Kong

Streetscape, Hong Kong

Skyscrapers, Hong Kong

A view of the harbor, Hong Kong

Hong Kong at night, Hong Kong

We met at a restaurant called Gonpachi which is noted for being the inspiration for Quentin Tarantio‘s Kill Bill movies.  It kind of feels like you are on the set as soon as you walk in.  Being with a noted celebrity definitely has its advantages: heads immediately turned as soon as we entered, and the bar manager and maitre’d were quick to approach, shake hands and offer up the best table in the house.  It wasn’t long before the owner of the restaurant was over to take our order and offer his recommendations.  There weren’t many vegetarian choices for Katie, but with a quick wave of the hand the owner said the chef would make something special and not to worry.  The rest of the meal consisted of Kobe Beef skewers, Fois Gras, avocado sushi, a wonderful cesar salad, edamame, tofu with sea salt, and beers.  At some point during our meal, the owner returned with a gift: a ten year old bottle of Dom Perignon Champagne.  Once that bottle disappeared, another delicious but dangerous bottle was quick to follow.  We were prepared but thankful to not see that bill at the end of the meal.

After departing the restaurant, it was off to a private lounge on the sixth floor of a fairly nondescript building in Ginza.  Here we were greeted by the owner once again, seated, and again offered a vintage bottle of the best champagne in the house.  It was a celebration and an honor that our rock star friend would come to his establishment.  It’s good for business.  Instantly recognized by the few other patrons of this lounge, a businessman also lavished our table with nothing but the best – more vintage champagne.  At the end we calculated that we went through $1,600.00 of the splendid drink.  At this lounge we were also greeted by one of Blaise’s friends, Cyril, a famous magician often referred to as the David Blaine of Asia.  He is a Japanese Californian with regular 2 hour TV specials and very well known throughout the continent.  He treated us to some of his slight of hand magic which left us scratching our heads, and making sure our wallets were still in our pockets!  After all the gifts, the hand shaking and pats on the back and all the “I’m your number one fan!” comments throughout the evening, it was still pretty hard to believe that this was the same person I knew in college.  With heads spinning, we decided to get some noodles and call it a night.

After all the champagne, we didn’t feel quite so elegant the next day, but we soldiered on despite of it.  We met Blaise again and were treated to a tour of his record label, learned about his solo project and heard the story of how his band became the Cultural Ambassadors for Japanese/Canadian relations.  He told us about performing for, and dining with, the Emperor of Japan and playing music in Ottawa and Vancouver on a recent Canadian tour.  He served as a great tour guide as we marched through Harajuku, Ginza and Roppongi before having lunch and parting ways.

It was great to see an old friend doing well and doing what he loves.  Behind the rare blue diamond rings and diamond studded earring, behind the designer fitted clothes and the custom fitted hat, is still the same down to earth guy I knew.   He is a performer, and he is always performing, a character he created, only the curtain never goes down and the lights don’t go out.  After the show is over, he his still his character.  Lucky for him most Japanese people are too polite to be bothersome to his privacy.

Monkey Majik have a new tour starting in October 2010 and since we are living in Taiwan now, we are already making plans to catch a show or two.  A very special and warm thanks to Blaise Plant and Cyril Takayama for a wonderful and unforgettable time in Tokyo.

www.monkeymajik.com

www.cyrilmagic.com

10 year old bottle of Dom, Tokyo, Japan

One of a few bottles of Dom Perignon, Tokyo, Japan

Cyril Takayama, Geoff, Katie and Blaise Plant, Tokyo, Japan

Katie and Blaise at Binyl Records, Tokyo, Japan

Our first night started off with a bang when we hooked up with an old friend. We dined at a restaurant in Tokyo’s Ginza district noted for its history of distinguished diners, including former US president George W. and Hollywood director Quentin Tarantino (the restaurant was actually his inspiration for the Kill Bill set). As we made our way through Kobe Beef skewers, Fois Gras and avocado sushi with beers, we also managed, over the course of the evening, to drink our way through $1,600.00 of Dom Perignon vintage 2000 Champagne.

The next day we decided to leave our hangovers in our hotel room and commit to a full-day of exploring. We met our friend again to tour of some of the trendier areas of Tokyo, hitting up super-futuristic Roppongi, a maze of awesome architecture and statues, then onward to the fashion district of Harijuku. The theme in Harijuku seems to be “anything goes” as long as it’s worn with purpose and confidence. It would not be uncommon to see a three-foot high hairdo paired with goth make-up, pink hot pants and gold colored cowboy boots on a male or female!  But for some odd reason the crazy fashion just seemed to work in this setting – nothing was shocking, and best of all, everyone seemed to revel in the madness of it all! We tended to stare more with admiration of the boldness rather than scoff. The sidewalks are veritable fashion runways, something we haven’t seen anywhere else to quite this extent.

Harajuku fashion. Tokyo, Japan.

Roppongi Hills shopping complex was so futuristic, it was super-futuristic. Tokyo, Japan.

Beware: Spiders from the super future are larger than life. Tokyo, Japan.

The De Beers building in Ginza is all about the curves. Tokyo, Japan.

Up close of the De Beers building. Tokyo, Japan.

After lunch it was time to say good-bye to our friend and continue onto Tokyo’s extensive subway system to explore on our own. As far as we could tell, Tokyo’s subway system is made up of three private companies working directional lines of every color, operating on at least six different levels below the city streets.  Fast, easy, and cheap, the network will take you anywhere in the city. Just don’t think about earthquakes when you’re that far below one of the world’s largest cities!

We happened to be in Japan at the tail end of the famed cherry blossom season, so went to one of the famous parks, Shinjuku Gyoen, to catch a glimpse. We were a bit too late: the park was beautiful and there were some branches still holding on, but for the most part, whatever blossoming there was to be done, had been done.

A few cherry blossoms hanging on at the tail end of the season. Tokyo, Japan.

Next stop was the Imperial Gardens. On weekends, the streets around the palace are closed to cars and set up only for cyclists.  I think other cities should take note of this splendid idea if they haven’t already. This was an eight lane road so there was plenty of room for both children and hard core cyclists to enjoy. The Imperial Palace is the home of Japan’s royal family, so most of it is off limits to the public with the exception of some holiday special functions and Imperial family parades. With an area of almost 7.5 kms in the centre of Tokyo, its likely the most expensive piece of property in the world. The East Garden is open to the public year round and even has some remnants of the historic Edo Castle. Many Japanese people dress in traditional Yukata cotton dresses as a show of respect when visiting the area.

Road by weekday, bike path by weekend. Near the Imperial Palace, Tokyo, Japan.

Bonsai! Imperial Palace Gardens, Tokyo, Japan.

We then went up the Roppongi Hills City View Tower to look down upon the “little” fishing village and harbor “town” formerly known as Edo. Unfortunately, I had to admire the endless city solo as my co-pilot (wife) wouldn’t get close enough to the windows to admire the panoramic view. On a clear day even the famed Mt. Fuji is visible in the distance. This was not one of those days, but no less impressive is the Tokyo Tower. This looks very similar to the Eiffel Tower of Paris, but is actually a communication tower hosting numerous satellites and receivers. These are actually found in most Japanese cities, and this one is over 300 meters tall and is brightly colored for air traffic safety.  Most impressive when lit up at night.

The city that never ends. Tokyo, Japan.

Hanging for dear life? Geoff climbs the Tokyo tower. Tokyo, Japan.

Katie climbs the tower, too. And poses for a photo. Tokyo, Japan.

If you have the good fortune of having a stopover in Tokyo, take it. The exceptional subway will allow you to see more than you bargained for or even thought was possible in the short time you have. There is no telling how many “only in Asia” moments you will have. Overpowering and impressive, yet bursting with culture and life and pushing new trends, a city like this just has to be visited by everyone. A simple experience like crossing the street in front of the train station at Shibuya is a jaw dropper. Take the bullet train to Osaka, or if you come at the right time of year, take in the cherry blossoms or a Sumo match. Whatever your fix, you’ll find it here.  So, if you want to get a glimpse of not just the future, but the super future, make sure your itinerary says Tokyo on it somewhere.

People wait to cross the street at Shibuya Crossing on a Sunday morning. Tokyo, Japan.

Geoff in the middle of it all. Tokyo, Japan.

Shibuya crossing on a Sunday. Just imagine what it would look like during weekday rush hour! Tokyo, Japan.

This car is smiling because its so earth-friendly. Nissan's zero-emission concpet car. Tokyo, Japan.

Sweet potato ice cream, anyone? Tokyo, Japan.

You can't smoke inside OR outside in Tokyo. Smokers must stop at designated areas to lightup, making walking on the sidewalk plesantly smoke-free! Tokyo, Japan.

Tokyo is so clean, that this is the only litter we saw in our three day stopover. We were so excited, we had to take a picture. Tokyo, Japan.

When you’re traveling, any amount of time away seems like both a lifetime and the blink of an eye. On the one hand, we moved so quickly from place to place, and saw so many things, that our three months of traveling seemed like much longer; each day was saturated with so much more newness than a typical day in the daily grind. On the other hand, each day seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye.

Getting home — and not yet having any idea what to do next — meant that we had to face an undetermined amount of time of nothingness ahead of us: no newness, few changes of scenery and, to top it all off, it wasn’t that hot out and it rained a lot. After three months away, moving from place to place with very few responsibilities to speak of, this was where the real challenge began: What do we do next?

Luckily, we were now surrounded by people who knew us well and in a city that truly must be one of the most beautiful in the world, even with the rain. Our cat slowly began to forgive us, allowing us to pick him up, feed him, spank him, and generally grovel for forgiveness through the provision of treats and unrestrained affection. We went out for drinks with friends, went on a seed bombing mission with Mary from Social Alterations, went to Yuk Yuks (if you want to feel some environmental outrage, ask for a glass of tap water at Yuk Yuks Vancouver), and began sorting through the pieces of our lives that remained in boxes and needed to be either donated or reorganized for transport to our new home.

Mortimer, our seed bombing friend

Seed Bombers and their Amo

Beautiful Vancouver, BC, Canada

We took a bitter-sweet trip to Calgary, giving us a total of 22 hours in the car to talk about what to do next, and where we should do it. When we got to Calgary we were comforted with our decision to leave, not because we won’t miss our friends and family there dearly, but because it wasn’t the right fit for us: jumping back into that life would have eroded the muchness reclaimed through travel. And on the way back from Calgary, we talked, and talked, and talked, and talked, and we realized it was time to head back to Asia.

If you asked me my future plans three weeks ago, I undoubtedly would have answered that we were moving to Argentina to start a wine tour business. Just over three weeks ago, Geoff and I were sitting in Posadas, Argentina, blissfully sipping Cerveza Quilmes with potential business partners in a recently formed idea for an Argentine venture. So why did we end up buying one-way tickets to Asia? It took us three weeks of ups, downs, and adrenaline, but we eventually landed on the choice — and the life and the region — that is quite simply, much muchier us.

And so onwards we march. Next stop: Tokyo.

Colonia del Sacramento is home to just over 20,000 people, and the historic district, which is only about 10 square blocks, can be seen in a day. There are frequent ferry and bus departures for traveling back to Buenos Aires or onward to Montevideo, so we decided to store our luggage at the terminal and rent a scooter to buzz around town with the idea of taking a bus that evening to Montevideo. I must admit that after 3 months of travelling to what seems like every protected heritage site known to man, I wasn’t that thrilled to see more colonial architecture and another handicraft market. However, there were plenty of museums and picturesque streetscapes: Colonia reminded me a lot of Cartegena, Colombia, with old canons and the ruins of the walled city. Colonia really requires only an afternoon, which leaves enough time to climb to the top of the lighthouse for spectacular views of the Rio de la Plata and walk or scoot throughout the tree-lined and cobbled streets.

Picturesque Colonia del Scaramento, Uruguay.

An open door in Colonia del Scaramento, Uruguay.

Quiet tree-lined streets are the norm in Colonia del Scaramento, Uruguay.

View of the Rio de la Plata from Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay.

View of the town from the top of the lighthouse. Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay.

Uruguay’s capital city, Montevideo, is a bustling port city of over a million inhabitants, and only a two-and-a-half hour bus ride from Colonia along a scenic highway. Like many South American cities that have experienced conflict and natural disaster in the past, it has an old city and a new city. Between the two is the important Plaza Independencia, which is surrounded by the country’s oldest theatre, Solis Theatre, the impressive Palacio Salvo, and governement buildings. In the centre of the Plaza is a statue and monument to Jose Artigas, a key figure in the Spanish resistance; his ashes are on display and guarded in a mausoleum directly under the monument. We got to the monument in time for the military changing of the guard, which is every weekday at noon.

Plaza Independencia, Montevideo, Uruguay.

Changing of the guards at the Plaza Independencia, Montevideo, Uruguay.

In the Plaza Independencia. Montevideo, Uruguay.

Airconditioners. Montevideo, Uruguay.

A short walk from the plaza is Uruguayan artist and writer Joaquín Torres García’s former home, which has been transformed into a museum showcasing his work. Another site well worth a visit is the shrine to world football and site of the very first FIFA World Cup, Estadio Centenario. The stadium comes complete with a football museum comemerating football’s once feared dynasty (Uruguay), which is now overshadowed by neighboring football giants Brazil and Argentina. For those into the beach scene, Playa Blanca is only 200km up the road from Montevideo, although in the summer months it’s filled with the who’s who of South America’s rich and famous (read:expensive).

All in all, I found Uruguay exceeded my expectations, especially considering it isn’t one of the countries that immediately pops into your head when you think of South America. It is a little on the expensive side, but it helps that most museums are free to enter. It is politically stable, its citizens enjoy a high standard of living, and it is the least corrupt country in the continent; furthermore, Uruguay was the first country in Latin America to legalize same sex marriages, making it one of the more liberal societies in the region. If traveling to the region around Brazil and Argentina, put Uruguay on the agenda as you won’t need a great deal of time in this little country that packs a big punch.

Picturesque or decrepid? Montevideo, Uruguay.

Like in Buenos Aires, Uruguay's capital is covered in colourful graffiti. Montevideo, Uruguay.

Balcony. Montevideo, Uruguay.

An (hopefully) abandoned balcony. Montevideo, Uruguay.

Traffic. Montevideo, Uruguay.

Rio is a city I’ve wanted to visit for years. With its famous and omnipresent statue, gorgeous beaches, unmatched carnival, and its residents’ free-spirited attitude, it has quite a lure. After the earthquakes hit Chile, we were forced to rearrange our travel plans and decided to head north from Buenos Aires to the world-famous Iguazu Falls, located near a triple frontier between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. After checking out Iguazu and finding out how inexpensive domestic flights within Brazil are, we figured we’d be stupid not to explore Rio, a city of so many travelers’ imaginations.

Once in the city, the heat is stifling and overwhelming. With temperatures reaching up to 37 degrees and with relentless humidity, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would spend our time in Rio sweating from every pour. After settling into a rundown and overpriced hovel of a hostel, we set about navigating Rio’s subway system to find the world famous Maracana football stadium. 2010 marks the 60^th anniversary of this national monument, which hosts all the major football matches in Rio and has been the site of many famous football moments: Pelé scored his 1000^th goal at Maracana; it was home to the 1950 FIFA World Cup; and it will feature prominently in the 2014 FIFA World Cup and 2016 Olympic Games. While it once had standing capacity for up to 200,000, it has since been renovated due to safety concerns to hold a modest 88,992. This hasn’t diminished the fans’ spirit though: the Lonely Planet guidebook warns against sitting in certain sections, as fans throwing bottles of urine from the top bleachers onto fans below is not altogether uncommon. We toured the stadium, taking in the locker rooms, entering the field from the same place the players do, and checking out the VIP seats in the stands. Throughout the stadium, many of the walls are covered with life-sized photomurals detailing Brazil’s long and steeped football history, its five World Cup victories, and its most famous football son, Pelé, dancing with the ball through his opponents.

Maracana stadium, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Maracana stadium, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

The next day we took in almost the entire southern zone of the city. We left our hostel at 10 am and drove toward Tijuca Forest. The trip took us past several of Rio’s notorious favelas (slums), many of them situated next to mansions or adjacent to prime real estate (five star favelas!); Copacabana beach; and one of Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer’s homes, which is set in the middle of Tijuca forest, built around a large rock, and is notable for having no doors. At an impressive 102 years old, Niemeyer, whose credits include a number of buildings in Brasília as well as the United Nations headquarters in New York, lives in an apartment by the beach, but opens his home to tourists and visitors. We didn’t have time to go in, but it would be well worth a visit next time.

Tijuca Forest is the largest urban forest in the world, and is a mostly protected area that was once home to coffee farms owned by French, Dutch and Portugese folks and run by their slaves (Brazil was the last country in the Western Hemisphere to abolish slavery).  In the second half of the 19th Century, the government ordered all the coffee farms shut down due to their negative impact on Rio’s water supply, and the forest was hand-planted to become what it is today. Although much of it is protected as a national park, some parts house communities, including a favela (favla in the forest!). While in the forest, we saw a pau-brasil tree, which some believe accounts for the country’s name. The etymology of Brazil is actually debated, but it sounds like it’s true.

A young pau-brasil tree. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

After a short walk to a waterfall in the forest, we continued by car to the famed statue of Christ the Redeemer, whose outstretched arms mimic the position of Christ on the crucifix, but also welcome visitors to Brazil’s most prized city.  Built by the Catholic Church with parishioner donations (at one time Brazil was over 90% Catholic; today it is closer to 70%), the statue was an ambitious and lengthy project: planned in 1921, construction did not begin until almost  ten years later; the exterior is made from Swedish concrete, while the core is Brazilian soap stone to prevent corrosion; the head and hands were built in France and shipped to Rio by boat; and the statue, visible from almost anywhere in the city, stands almost 40 meters tall and is almost 30 meters wide.  Fortunately for Rio it has been voted one of the new seven wonders of the world. This was unfortunate for us as, because of this, the local authorities decided that Jesus needed a bath. Mere days before we arrived in Rio, workers began surrounding the statue in steel scaffolding in preparation for some power washing and small repairs. Although still wonderful to see, and with an unparalleled view of the city from the base of the statue, we were disappointed not to see the statue in its full splendor. However, it did lead us to some humorous titles for this blog: Jesus Takes a Bath; Extreme Makeover: Christ Edition; A Face Lift for Jesus; Soaping Our Savior; Lathering Up the Lord…

Christ the Redeemer is visible from most areas in the city. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Christ the Redeemer. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Workers prepare the statue for restoration work. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

After the statue, we made our way through the historical district of Santa Teresa, a bohemian neighborhood which boasts an Open Door Festival once a year during which artists open their homes to the public. While Santa Teresa was a refreshing change from the hedonistic beach scene, like much of Rio, it is pretty run down: some of the mansions here look as though they belong in a horror movie. From Santa Teresa, we went to check out Lapa, the last stop of the day and home to the Steps of Lapa, or Selarón steps: a staircase completely covered by Chilean artist Jorge Selarón  in brightly colored tiles. Selarón, who has traveled, worked or lived in more than 50 countries and has collected and painted tiles from each to incorporate into the installation piece, began the work 20 years ago and is still at it today.

Santa Teresa neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Santa Teresa neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

The steps of Lapa, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

The steps of Lapa incorporate tiles from around the world. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

One of three Canada tiles in the Steps of Lapa. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Not wanting to miss Rio’s most celebrated attraction, we spent the next day sampling the famed Ipanema and Copacabana beaches.  They are both full of buff, groomed, well-oiled, bronzed and waxed beachgoers only too eager (and perhaps a little over confident) to show off their new speedo or thong.  The beaches are always busy when the sun is up – one dial we saw had the temperature at 37 degrees – leading us to wonder if residents of Rio ever do anything other than hang out at the beach and party. The vendors at both beaches are relentless, selling everything imaginable, and the beaches are dotted with little restaurant and beer huts which make a great spot to sip a Brahma under the welcome shade of an umbrella. People watching is a pastime practiced with much gusto here, which is understandable given all that skin out there, and there are always impromptu football or volleyball games kicking up sand or surfers shredding waves to make an afternoon of people watching worthwhile.

Beach Bum. Copacabana Beach, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Beach Bum. Copacabana Beach, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Founded in 1565, Rio is one of the youngest cities we have visited on this trip. While it is undeniably beautiful, and it oozes attitude and character, it was not a city either of us fell in love with. For the young surfer type with a party all night attitude, Rio could easily be paradise. For us, it lacked the sophistication of Buenos Aires or the rawness of Quito, seeming more like a promiscuous younger sibling at which you roll your eyes and worry about in equal measure: closer to a shot of tequila than a nice glass of red.  It is also a city where the rich and poor live together: sometimes beside each other and sometimes right on top of one another. While this is a fact that residents say define the city’s culture, it also makes safety a concern.  However much of an effort made by police, cabs are a must after dark, romantic walks along the beach at night are out, and carrying anything of value is a risk. So while it is truly a fantastic site, it is unlikely we will be calling Rio home anytime soon.

Our destination this time was northeastern Argentina, where Argentina meets Brazil and Paraguay on the mighty Iguazu River, a stone’s throw from the thunderous roar of the world famous falls. The Iguazu falls are a series of over 250 waterfalls, the most famous of which is the Devil´s Throat, Garganta del Diablo. Legend has it that a couple of aboriginal lovers ran away (well, actually they canoed away on the Iguazu River) to be together, and the sinners were swallowed by the devil (let that be a lesson to us all!). The Devil’s Throat section is undeniably the main attraction of the falls: a horseshoe shaped fall 270 feet high with an unforgettable roar and crash. Equally incredible is the mist which, on a sunny day contributes to some spectacularly vivid rainbows.

Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Up close and personal at the Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Geoff at the Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Once inside Iguazu National Park, well-maintained paths and tourist booths help guide people to the attractions. There is also a train running between different stops, each with different views of the falls. In addition to the Devil´s Throat, there is an upper and lower circuit consisting of man made platforms built with views of the falls. The upper pathways include bridges that take you over the crest of some of the smaller falls, making your stomach lurch and tingle. The lower pathway takes you to the bottom of the falls, where you can feel the spray and, if you pay a little more, board a rubber dingy and get up close and personal or visit an island in the middle of the river. The pathways also have some great signage warning of the dangers nearby.

View of the falls from the superior circuit, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Stay on the path, or a snake may eat you. Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

Don't jump! Garganta del Diablo, Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

The falls make for great photos if you can squeeze in between the throngs of tourists. From sun up to sun down the park is absolutely filled with tourists and the prices reflect it. Entry into the park is ARS 85 per person (~ CAD$22.50), and the vendors capitalize on the fact that you’re in the middle of a forest by hiking the prices for everything. If you go, pack a lunch and bring all the water you need. Be warned, it is a long, hot, and expensive day.

Although the falls can be experienced from both Brazil and Argentina, as the park entrance fees are quite high and we’re near the end of our trip, we decided to cheap out and view them from the Argentina side only. Most travelers we talked to told us the view from Argentina was the best, although Brazil offers a different perspective.

The point of access to the Argentinean falls is the town of Puerto Iguazu, a touristy but pretty laid back place. Aside from the falls, people use it as a jumping off point for trips into Brazil (Foz do Iguacu) and Paraguay (Ciudad del Estse). Canadians need a visa to visit both countries, but visas can be obtained from the consulate same-day if you arrive early.

After the initial shock wore off, we began to appreciate Argentina on another level, and settled into a very comfortable routine in each city: mornings were spent at street-side cafes in one of the many large squares, eating pastries and sipping espresso or hot chocolate served with sparkling water. This was followed by wandering through artsy neighborhoods covered in intricate and colorful graffiti, often stopping for a beer at another cafe when shops shut down for siesta (1pm to 5pm). In the evenings, we checked out artists markets and strolled through the plaza before settling in for a late dinner over bottles of malbec, chilled rose, or sparkling white. The fact is, Argentina’s urban spaces, which seem to effortlessly achieve a perfect mix between bohemian, sophisticated, colorful and laid-back, make it difficult to find the motivation to do anything other than simply relax, enjoy, repeat.

Salta's main square is lined with cafes. Salta, Argentina.

Outdoor cafes in Cordoba, Argentina.

Outdoor Cafes in La Boca neighborhood. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

The streetscapes are equally wonderful, many of which ooze with bohemian goodness: in addition to the European architecture dotting many of the cities, many also have neighborhoods populated by hip young artists and young people who cover the walls with art. Indeed, much of life in Argentina seems to take place outside, with people gathering in large and leafy central squares or on cafe-lined pedestrian malls to meet friends or lovers, paint, walk, chat, protest, sell crafts, or play music. While there are great museums, galleries, and landscapes in Argentina, we found it difficult to tear ourselves away from the cities.

Strolling. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Cordoba, Argentina.

Pedestrians on Florida Avenue. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo still meet every Thursday to demand justice for children that disappeared during the dirty war. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Feeding pigeons. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Dogs wait for a walk in the park. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Artists' market in Cordoba, Argentina.

Artists' market in Cordoba, Argentina.

Artists in La Boca neighborhood sell their work. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

A makeshift bad jams on Florida Avenue. Buenos Aires, Argentina.