In all we spent just over three weeks in El Salvador, mostly staying with the matriarch of Cindy’s family, Mama Tita, in San Salvador (the capital). It is probably fair to say that in El Salvador, well off people live well, and Mama Tita is lucky to have the help of an amazingly caring housekeeper, Elma, who also spoilt us while we were there. From Monday through Friday every week, Elma prepares a massive lunch for Cindy’s extended family, who still drop in on their work/school lunch breaks whenever they can to have a meal at their mother’s/grandmother’s table. Being able to join in this day-to-day ritual was a great way for Sam, in particular, to get to know Cindy’s uncles, aunts and cousins.

Later in our trip, Cindy’s family also took us further afield to the dark sand beach of El Dorado to enjoy a beautiful lunch at a dreamy beachside ranch. For Sam, perhaps the most interesting family day trip was to Tenancingo, the small town where Cindy’s mum grew up, which had been ravaged during the civil war but is now experiencing a resurgence of sorts.

We left Costa Rica having been impressed with almost everything we saw. We were looking forward to our next destination, Nicaragua, because we had heard rumors from other travelers that it was at least as beautiful as Costa Rica, except much cheaper. In-fact, it’s common these days for backpackers to catch a bus from Panama to Nicaragua, bypassing the relatively expensive Costa Rica altogether. Immediately after negotiating a chaotic border crossing, we started to question the accuracy of that theory as the landscape almost instantly changed from the lush green we were used to to a relatively barren brown. Even so, we tried to keep an open mind.

Our first stop was San Juan del Sur, a small surf town on Nicaragua’s southern pacific coast. The town itself doesn’t have a great surf beach; the prominent gringo surf population just use it as a base and take 4x4 day trips to better breaks to the north and south. What San Juan del Sur does offer is a beautiful, calm, crescent-shaped west-facing beach, and the opportunity to enjoy memorable sunsets from one of many chill beachfront bars. For us, sunset was the clear highlight of each day, not only because of the view but also because it brought relief from the stifling daytime heat. We stayed in a nice hostel on the hill, enjoying elaborate cooked breakfasts every morning on the rooftop terrace with views of the town and beach below.

Puerto Viejo is a small beach town on the Caribbean coast just north of the Panama border. Eight years ago Cindy fell in love with the town for its laid back Caribbean/Latino vibe and its long stretch of pretty beaches. This time around, Cindy couldn’t help but feel the relaxed vibe had been weakened by increased tourism traffic, and it was clear that recent storm activity had taken a toll on the beaches. Even so, we enjoyed some relaxed meals and a nice long bike ride along the coast before heading to our next destination, Manuel Antonio.

The Manuel Antonio national park has been named as one of the twelve most beautiful national parks in the world, and, in our experience, for good reason. The park is on the Pacific coast, which meant that we were in for a long day on slow buses, crossing coast to coast from Puerto Viejo via the capital. Lots of locals had said we wouldn’t be able to make it in one day, so when the bus pulled in to the town of Quepos (near the park entrance) at 6pm, we were very proud of ourselves for again ignoring the locals and backing our gut instinct. Unfortunately, we quickly went from feeling very smart to feeling very stupid when we realised that the national park was closed the next day. What looked like being our first really silly mistake proved to be a blessing, as we spent the entire following day on playa Espadilla, the long white sand beach neighbouring the park. Featuring the perfect combination of long gentle waves, tropical (but not too hot) temperatures, and jungle scenery (including the occasional monkey sighting), we both instantly agreed that playa Espadilla was the best beach either of us had visited anywhere in the world.

After wandering through all of the park’s walkways we arrived at its most iconic beach which, although stunning, was already overcrowded at 9:30am. After a quick swim we laid out our towels to attempt to relax on the beach, but were constantly interrupted by confident wildlife attempting to search our bags for food. When an anteater rubbed his nose all over our unsuspecting friend’s head, we decided it was time to leave the park and head back to the more relaxing and less populated (both by humans and animals) playa Espadilla.

After saying goodbye to our favourite beach we sat down for lunch at El Avion, a famous hilltop restaurant built around a hollowed-out cargo plane. We then picked up a rental car to drive to our next destination, Monteverde. Prohibitive (and back-packer unfriendly) costs had until now turned us off the idea of renting a car, but our research had shown that with Costa Rica’s network of largely dirt roads and frustratingly slow and indirect buses, the bus alternative was even less attractive. The advantage of hiring a car in Costa Rica over anywhere else we’d visited is that almost every part of the country offers beautiful scenery (whether costal or mountainous), and it was really nice being able to stop whenever we liked to take it in.

Monteverde, although notoriously hard to get to due to poorly maintained and rarely signposted dirt roads (we got badly lost on the way there), is as good a place as any to experience Costa Rica’s iconic cloud forests. The small town is increasingly popular among tourists, particularly birdwatchers who often spend a week patiently wandering through the nearby cloud forest reserves. We wouldn’t identify ourselves as either patient or birdwatchers, so for us a brisk 3-hour walk through the award winning Curi Cancha reserve was more than enough.

The main reason we visited Monteverde was to do the longest zipline in Costa Rica, and one of the longest in the world. In total we did 13 ziplines, the longest being a mile-long ‘superman’ style (facing the increasingly distant ground) that was a lot scarier than expected. The zipline tour included a tarzan canyon swing as a no cost option. Sam had done something similar in New Zealand but tried his hardest to underplay how scary it was when convincing Cindy to give it a try. The bungy-like adrenaline rush was a nice was to finish our time in Monteverde.

One of the reasons we opted to hire a car was that we wanted to explore some of Costa Rica’s northern pacific beaches before dropping the car off near the Nicaraguan border. All started well, as we arrived at the beautiful beach town of Samara for a seafood lunch on the sand. However, as we attempted to continue north to the next beach town we were faced with dirt roads in such bad condition that driving more than 40 kilometres an hour was impossible (even in a high ground clearance hired 4x4 with full insurance). Instead of paying $15 a day to rent a GPS we opted to take iPad screen shots of our preferred route, but we hadn’t anticipated that this route would have a river running through it. Just when we thought it the road conditions couldn’t get any worse, it started to get dark, 2 hours before scheduled sunset, and we were met with torrential rain so heavy that our headlights were reflecting off the rain and back into our faces. We soon decided to turn back, having to go through flooded roads but then reached a dead end as rivers of water meant we had no idea where the road continued. We tried another path, but it lead to another dead end. Eventually we were able to get out of there, back on to the main road and to our hotel at our next destination, Tamarindo, all be it a few hours after we had intended to arrive.

Tamarindo is a small town with a pretty, although not spectacular, beach. What we loved about the place, and the reason we ended up staying an extra night, was the relaxed vibe and the nice and affordable food. There are plenty of Costa Rican beach destinations catering to the backpacker crowd, and plenty more that exclusively host 5-star resorts, but we found that Tamarindo struck a nice balance between the two extremes. After three relaxed days chilling out on Tamarindo and neighbouring beaches, our two weeks in Costa Rica ended with us catching a series of chicken buses to the Nicaraguan border.

After an eight hour coach ride and a one hour trip on a chicken bus, we arrived in Boquete at 9pm to find a sleepy small town. Boquete sits in the hills of western Panama near the Costa Rican border and, with an altitude of 1200 meters, boasts a climate much cooler than the rest of the country.

We had heard that Boquete had become the second most popular town outside the US for american retirees, and that 14% of its permanent population were expats from over 30 different countries, so we decided to come and see what all the fuss was about. We discovered a town that was pleasant enough (particularly if you live in a gated gringo community on a golf course), without being particularly pretty or memorable. Our theory is that expats are primarily attracted to Panama for tax, health care and cost of living reasons, and they end up settling in Boquete because it is one of the only places in the country with a climate that westerners would find comfortable.

With added international interest, the tourism industry has steadily grown in Boquete. As in Baños in Ecuador, tour operators in Boquete offer adventure sports like white water rafting and ziplining. Unlike Baños, however, these activities actually take place an hour or two away from town, making for a long day. The region around Boquete has a growing reputation for low production, high quality organic coffee, but again we felt that we’d had the optimal coffee experience in Colombia earlier in our travels.

The main attraction in Boquete is the nearby Volcan Baru, a dormant volcano that, at its 3474 meter peak, is the tallest point in Panama and offers, on a clear day, the unique opportunity to see both the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. There are essentially two ways of getting to the top - a grueling 12-hour (round trip) hike leaving at 11pm, or a 5-hour (round trip) ride in a 4x4. We chose the latter, less exhausting but also substantially more expensive option, not just because the hike was not very appealing but also because we had always wanted to go on a 4x4 adventure and thought this was as good a place as any to do it.

Our first stop in Central America was Panama City. After our plane from Medellin touched down we had to wait half an hour to collect our bags while two different breeds of sniffer dogs were guided through them a few times (the whole time we were wondering whether bags from any other destination would get as thorough an inspection).

We spent our first afternoon and evening in Casco Viejo, the fortress city the Spaniards built in the late 17th century after the first city was burnt and looted by pirates. Built on a peninsula and surrounded by walls, the city has been nicely preserved and since earning World Heritage recognition in 1997 has become an increasingly popular tourist destination. After touring around the various churches, government buildings and museums, we had dinner and cocktails at a rooftop bar, enjoying watching the sunset over the old town as the skyscrapers in the distance gradually lit up.

We woke up early on our second day to check out the attraction that drives not only the tourism sector but the entire economy in Panama; the canal. After negotiating our way through the crowds we were able to see the engineering masterpiece in action as a couple of ships were guided through the locks at the Pacific side of the canal. The price of admission was bundled with a 3D movie and entrance to a museum, which dealt with the history of the canal and offered some subtle patriotic comments on the complex US-Panama relationship.

We had heard great things about the Panama causeway, a modern, palm-tree lined strip of land connecting four islands near the entrance to the canal. We wandered along much of the causeway, enjoying views back to the sky scrapers of Panama along the way, but after about an hour the heat got the better of us and we decided we’d had enough.

With the exception of a visit to a local Crossfit gym, we spent the rest of our time in Panama City in its two biggest malls, enjoying the best shopping we’d had for months, eating at some American chain restaurants and watching a movie, all in air conditioned comfort. We admit that this wasn’t the most culturally adventurous experience we’d had in the last few months, but we found that Panama generally, and in particular Panama city, is so americanized that it can sometimes be hard to find anything other than American food to eat.

Our next stop, the San Blas islands, promised to be more culturally interesting. We’d arranged to stay on a tiny island as guests of the local Kuna indian owners. To get there we woke up at 5am to catch a windy 4x4 ride to a tiny town on the Caribbean coast, where the owner of our island met us in a small motor boat. After a one hour ride out to sea, we arrived at the island and were shown to our spacious beachside hut, complete with thatched roofing and a sand floor.

The view and proximity to amazingly still turquoise water were five star, but the amenities were certainly not. Fresh water was available but was only really useful for manually flushing the toilet (the smell turned us off the idea of using it to shower). Electricity was limited to just a couple of lights, and in truth we probably preferred the combination of darkness and silence that came when the generator was turned off at 10pm each night.

The standard cuisine was also pretty basic, consisting of chicken or white fish with rice and salad, but by paying a small amount extra we were able to source incredibly fresh lobster and crab. Meals were prepared by the Kuna women on the island, who only spoke their native language and were incredibly shy, so much so that they’d wait for us to leave the table before clearing our plates. The men on the island were more outgoing and spoke Spanish, so we enjoyed playing football, beach volleyball and even working out with them.

For our first night on the island there were only two other tourists with us, although on the second night the island was at full capacity with eight tourists in total. After each lunch, as we were starting to get bored of swimming and laying in hammocks, we went for short trips to other islands.

For our second excursion we went snorkeling around a ship that had run aground next to a nearby island. Coral had covered the ship and plenty of tropical fish had moved in, making for a memorable experience. On the way to the shipwreck, we stopped at a shallow pool in the middle of the ocean, which gave us an idea of what might happen to many of the hundreds of San Blas islands if sea levels continue to rise.

After a couple of days on the one island we opted for a change of scenery and moved to another island for our last night. This island, although no bigger, had many more huts and as a result many more tourists. Although the food was worse and showers were still not possible, we enjoyed being able to talk to some more people and seeing something different.

When the time came to leave San Blas and head back to Panama City, we were ready to go. Having anticipated that island conditions would be basic, we had splurged on a five star hotel our return, and having that to look forward to helped us make the best of our time in the islands. As soon as we checked into the hotel we blasted the air conditioner and had a long hot shower (probably not helping the rising sea level problem, we know), before retreating to the most comfortable king size bed we’ve ever encountered and switching on the TV. After spending almost every hour from check in to check out in the room, we headed to the bus station to catch a bus west to our next destination, Boquete.

We initially weren’t too sure whether visiting Medellin was a good idea. The city is still most famous as the place Pablo Escobar called home during the peak of his powers in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, when Medellin was awarded the dubious title of world’s most violent city.

We had heard that Medellin had changed a lot since those days, and by taking an excellent walking tour of downtown we were able to understand both how the city earned its dangerous reputation and how it has worked hard to turn things around. A key to the transformation has been turning criminal slums into public parks and libraries. Another key has been building a progressive public transport system, featuring Colombia’s only metro system as well as cable cars and escalators that enable poorer people in the hills to come to, and feel part of, the city. This urban planning resulted in Medellin being named as the world’s most innovative city last year. We found that the best way to appreciate the scale and impact of these initiatives was to ride the free cable car over the slums to the top of Medellin.

During the darker Escobar years, an interesting ritual developed in very religious Medellin, where hired guns would go to church both before clocking-on for their commandment-breaking day job (to say they know what they were about to do was wrong) and afterwards (to be completely cleansed of their sins). Although there aren’t as many hitmen anymore, prostitutes of all types (ladies, men and somewhere in between) still station themselves outside city churches, allowing their clients to complete their cleansing ritual.

Paisas, the residents of Medellin and surrounding areas, have always been known as proud people (other Colombians would say too much so). We got the impression that Paisas are particularly proud of their city’s resurgence. The Medellin metro, a central symbol of the transformation, is the only public transport either of us have ridden anywhere that has absolutely no graffiti. Although we’re definitely not trailblazers (tourists have been increasingly coming to Medellin for over a decade), the locals still seemed genuinely pleased to be seeing us in their city, with many stopping to say hi. In-fact the closest encounter we had with a dodgy looking character in Medellin was a guy who approached our walking tour group and said, in intoxicated spanish, ‘I know I’m a junky but I just wanted to say hi and I hope you enjoy your stay’.

The welcoming theme continued when we visited a local Crossfit gym. At the start of the workout the coach introduced us and gave a really nice long speech about Crossfit being a global community. When after the class we asked if they had any t-shirts for sale, instead of just saying ‘no, sorry’, the coach tried to offer Sam the shirt off his back. Of course we couldn't accept that, so instead we arranged to come back a few days later to pick up some shirts and have another workout (although they didn’t let us pay for any of it).

The day after our workout we woke up with very sore legs, so our timing wasn't great to take a day trip to the nearby small town of Guatape, where the main attraction is climbing 740 steps to the top of a 200 meter high granite monolith. At least the view from the top of the surrounding lakes and green hills was worth the pain. The town of Guatape itself was also definitely worth a visit, featuring a fairy tale mix of cobblestone streets and colorful buildings.

While in Medellin we also took a day trip to the more historic Colonial town of Santa Fe de Antioquia, which was established in 1541 and has been very well preserved. Although less colorful than Guatape, the town featured plenty of beautiful streets, buildings, churches and plazas.

The most famous legal Colombian export is coffee, and the vast majority of the stuff is grown in the highlands between Medellin and Bogota. Cindy, in particular, didn’t want to leave Colombia without visiting this region. We chose to stay in Salento, a tiny town that was built along a key trade route but was cut off when the route was diverted. The result is a beautiful small town that feels like it has been frozen in time, although perhaps not for too long as it is an increasingly popular destination for Colombian weekenders and backpackers from around the world.

On our first full day in Salento we rented bikes and rode down a steep dirt road to take a tour of a boutique organic coffee farm. Our tour guide took us through the whole coffee production process, and was able to explain to us why we hadn’t found as much good coffee in Colombia as we had expected. Apparently when coffee pods are extracted from their shells and put in a bath of water, the good quality coffee (which sinks) is separated from the not so good stuff (which floats). Because Colombians are generally reluctant to pay big money for coffee, the cheap stuff stays in the country and the nicer stuff is exported to more discerning, and less price sensitive, coffee addicts around the world.

The next day we headed to Salento’s other main attraction, the nearby Corcora Valley. Lonely planet calls this valley a lush, tropical version of Switzerland. Although Sam thought this analogy was a bit of a stretch, the valley certainly is beautiful in its own way and is well worth a visit. The first half of our hike was through dense forest, following and regularly crossing - often on rickety one-person-at-a-time bridges - a small rapid-lined river. At the midway point the trail climbed steeply out of the shade to La Montana, offering views of the beautiful valley below. For us the highlight was on the way back down the mountain when we walked through a massive field of 60-meter high palms. After powering through the supposedly day long hike before lunch, we returned to Salento for a relaxed last afternoon and evening in the beautiful town.

The next day we headed to Salento’s other main attraction, the nearby Corcora Valley. Lonely planet calls this valley a lush, tropical version of Switzerland. Although Sam thought this analogy was a bit of a stretch, the valley certainly is beautiful in its own way and is well worth a visit. The first half of our hike was through dense forest, following and regularly crossing - often on rickety one-person-at-a-time bridges - a small rapid-lined river. At the midway point the trail climbed steeply out of the shade to La Montana, offering views of the beautiful valley below. For us the highlight was on the way back down the mountain when we walked through a massive field of 60-meter high palms. After powering through the supposedly day long hike before lunch, we returned to Salento for a relaxed last afternoon and evening in the beautiful town.

After a long bus trip back to Medellin we caught a flight over the Darien Gap to Panama City, marking the end of 18 unforgettable weeks in South America. We wouldn’t claim to have done the whole continent, with the main omissions being a wintery Patagonia and the politically unfriendly Venezuela, but we hope to visit both at more suitable times in the future. Otherwise, we managed to knock a whole bunch of items off our bucket list and we had a lot of fun along the way. That said, we’re definitely not ready to drop the backpacks and return to our western professional lives yet. Next stop Central America!

The World Cup was a major focus of our travels, but as sad as we were to leave Brazil we knew we still had plenty to look forward to. Our next stop, Cartagena in Colombia, was one of the more anticipated destinations ahead of us. Despite stifling hot temperatures and going without any water (so no showers) for two days, we really enjoyed our time there.

Cartagena was founded almost 500 years ago and in its early life was the main port used by the Spanish to transport treasure that they’d plundered from the natives back to Spain. The treasure  helped build a beautiful city, but also attracted plenty of pirates. After five sieges, the Spanish built a wall around the city, which is why most of the cobbled alleys, plazas, churches and beautiful buildings have survived until today. To get a deeper appreciation of this rich history, we took a segway tour around the walled city, which was a lot of fun.

We found that Cartagena was at its best around sunset, when temperatures start to drop and the city feels most romantic. At night we enjoyed some of the best (but certainly not the cheapest) food we had in Colombia, with the highlight a Peruvian/Japanese fusion restaurant. During the day, we watched each of the World Cup quarter finals in various air conditioned bars, including the Brazil v Colombia game. The atmosphere around Cartagena before that game was amazing, rivaling the atmosphere in Brazil before their national team played, but after the game the place was silent. Colombians were convinced that the game had been fixed (something to do with Fifa wanting to manage bad press in Brazil around World Cup spending). Cindy’s alternative, more plausible, explanation, that the better team on the day won, was generally met with cold looks and deepening conspiracy theories.

While in Cartagena, we took a day trip to a beautiful white sand beach, playa blanca, enjoying a nice fresh fish for lunch and trying not to stare at some of the most obvious plastic surgery customers we’d ever seen.

From Cartagena we took a bus along the Caribbean coast towards Venezuela in search of more beautiful beaches. We stayed in Santa Marta, a small town with a rich history but not too much, in terms of colonial buildings and public spaces, to show for it. While there, we visited the nearby beach towns of Taganga (hippy town with a dirty beach but a nice relaxed vibe) and El Rodadero (a more modern beach town preferred by Colombian holidayers that’s relatively lacking in character). We also visited the final residence of Simon Bolivar (famous military and political leader who helped Venezuela, Panama, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia all achieve independence from the Spanish empire), which has been turned into a nice open museum.

The main attraction in the Santa Marta area is Tayrona national park, home to some of Colombia’s prettiest beaches, including Cabo San Juan which Lonely Planet uses as the cover photo for Colombia guide books. The problem with Cabo San Juan is that it’s not as accessible as many would like, requiring a one hour bus trip to the national park gates followed by a two hour hike in 35 degree heat. The alternative is a pretty scary, and relatively expensive, one and a half hour boat trip through relatively rough seas. For this reason a lot of people decide to camp overnight (in extremely hot tents or in cramped hammocks) to get maximum mileage for the time, money and effort it takes to get there.

We decided to get up early and just do a day trip. The two-hour hike through nicely set out trails offered lots of beautiful vantage points along the way. Two thirds of the way there the searing heat started to get the better of Sam, as he reflected that it wouldn’t have been difficult for the Conquistadors to sell Christianity to the locals, since it promises believers will either go to heaven (which sounds like a good place) or hell (which would at least offer cooler temperatures). At that point, we arrived at La Piscina, a protected beach that afforded us a much-welcomed opportunity to jump in the water and cool off.

We got to Cabo San Juan before 11am and immediately booked the 4pm boat trip back to Taganga (at that stage an overpriced near guarantee of sea sickness seemed more appealing than repeating the hike). The twin beaches at Cabo San Juan were at least as beautiful as the lonely planet pictures suggested and we really enjoyed spending several hours in the turquoise water. However we were ready to go when it came time to board the boat back. The boat trip lived up to its dubious reputation, with the beachside boarding and initial efforts to get out past the waves particularly hair-raising. One American passenger (not Cindy this time) seemed to be particularly convinced that the boat was going to be the end of her, but in the end we all got back to Taganga safely and without any dramatic episodes of sea sickness.

Sam woke up the next morning looking forward to the day ahead, watching Brazil hopefully beat Germany in the World Cup semis from an air conditioned bar before flying to the significantly cooler city of Medellin. In the end Brazil lost 7-1 and the locals threatened Sam with everything from deportation to rape just for wearing a Brazil jersey (which is pretty disgusting, but also sad since when we were in Colombia in March all the locals we asked had said Brazil was their second favorite team). After the game we headed to the airport only to be told that, despite getting two confirmation emails, there was a problem with our reservation and we couldn’t get on the plane (in short, don’t book with Viva Colombia unless you want to know what an airline worse than Easyjet or Ryanair looks like). At that stage the last buses and planes had left for the day, but after much pleading with rival airlines, internet scrambling, expense and inconvenience we were able to fly to Medellin the next morning from the somewhat nearby city of Barranquilla (Shakira’s home town).

Our first World Cup game was probably the one we were looking forward to the most. The game featured Argentina (v Bosnia-Herzegovina), which, of the teams with a realistic chance of winning the Cup (so excluding the US and Australia), was our favorite team. It was also the first game for the Cup at the Maracana, and was being played exactly 64 years after the iconic stadium opened. But we had to get there first...

On the morning of the game we woke up in Foz do Iguacu more than a little anxious to get to the airport and get off the ground without any delays. When we landed on time (but only four hours before kick-off) the dozens of Argentinian fans on board breathed a huge sigh of relief, and a few (including Cindy) joined an impromptu chorus of blue and white vuvuzelas.

The Argentinians weren’t the only noisy ones at the airport. The baggage carousel next to ours was surrounded by Chileans yelling their favorite, and to us it seems only, team chant - ‘Chi Chi Chi Le Le Le, Viva Chile’. Having seen Chilean fans this excited three days before their game against Spain, we weren’t too surprised to hear that 85 of them got deported after breaking into the Maracana to try to see it.

Getting off the train at Maracana station we were greeted by hundreds of desperate Argentinians offering up to four figure sums for tickets (selling tickets other than through FIFA was supposed to be highly illegal but at the games we attended we didn’t see any evidence of FIFA or the police trying at all hard to stop it). The game itself, with the exception of one beautiful Lionel Messi goal, was not all that impressive, but the atmosphere was amazing.

We had come to the game having rote learnt the main two Argentinian chants, but a third, brand new chant, proved to be the most popular. This chant gave us our first insight as to why Brazilians really don’t like the Argentinian football team (in-fact most of the Bosnian supporters at the game were wearing Brazilian jerseys). The lyrics of the chant serve only to taunt Brazilians, asking them what it feels like to have their father in their house and insisting that Maradona was better than Pele.

After the game we caught up with Cindy’s brother and a dozen other friends in Lapa, Rio’s party district, to watch the San Antonio Spurs win the NBA title and to drink more than enough Caipiroskas to celebrate both victories. At the end of the night we caught a cab back to our hotel allowing just enough time to shower, pick up our bags and head to the airport to catch an early flight to Belo Horizonte. That morning we endured the worst hangover we’d experienced since our respective Bachelor and Bachelorette’s parties in Vegas.

Leading into the World Cup there was a lot of talk about Belgium being the dark horse to win the Cup, since this year it featured a golden generation of stars who play at many of the best European clubs. Unfortunately, the Belgians didn’t look all that impressive despite getting the win they needed. Even so, the atmosphere was again fantastic, with plenty of Belgians and a surprisingly large amount of Algerians there to support their teams.

After the final whistle, the stadium emptied in no time, as all eyes turned to the Brazil v Mexico game starting one hour later. We watched most of that game at Bianca’s house, sitting on a rooftop terrace, seeing the sun set over urban Belo Horizonte and enjoying her husband’s Brazilian barbeque. Just as well the setting was so memorable because the game itself was far from it, ending goalies and leaving many Brazilians almost ready to write their team off as genuine World Cup contenders.

The next morning we flew to Sao Paulo for a short three-day trip. We had heard plenty of people tell us that Sao Paulo isn’t worth a visit, but we decided to go anyway so we could reach our own conclusion. That conclusion, in short, is that there really is very little to see in Sao Paulo, despite the fact that it is the most populous city in the Southern Hemisphere and the financial hub of South America. Very little, but not nothing.

Like a lot of large South American cities, Sao Paulo has plenty of nice buildings in its historical centre, which is where we stayed. As young professionals we were more interested in the more modern, commercial, part of Sao Paulo, so we took a walking tour through Paulista Avenue. We saw some impressive architecture (in particular the MASP museum), ate some really nice (but expensive) Brazilian and international food, and visited the Bohemian bar district of Villa Madalena to watch Colombia beat Ivory Coast. We spent the rest of our time in the FIFA Fan Fest, with the highlight being Tim Cahill’s goal of the tournament in Australia’s impressive loss to the Netherlands.

We returned to Belo Horizonte the night before our third game, Argentina v Iran. Our plane was full of Argentina fans and when we touched down we all chanted ‘Vamos Vamos Argentina, Vamos Vamos a ganar…’. On the way to the game the next day we were even able to get Breno, a staunch Brazil supporter, to learn the chant and become an Argentina fan for the day.

The atmosphere at the game was the most impressive of the seven games we attended. For ninety minutes neither side was able to open the scoring and the Argentinian fans responded by chanting louder and louder. In injury time the stadium erupted when Lionel Messi slotted a beautiful left footer in the corner of the net. Celebrations were still in full force half an hour after the game finished when we heard the first and only announcement in Spanish at the World Cup, a
reminder to the Argentinians that the game was over accompanied with an invitation for them to go home.

A few hours after the game we boarded an overnight bus to Rio de  Janiero, arriving on the morning of our fourth game, Belgium v Russia at the Maracana. This game was the most disappointing of the games we saw, with a standard of play that would be familiar to people who regularly watch US and Australian domestic league games. When one fan was caught on the big screen sleeping nobody was surprised. The only redeeming features were that we were able to see the game with Cindy’s brother, Napo, and Belgium finally managed to score a goal late in the
second half. With Russia hosting the next World Cup and Qatar the one after, it looks like Brazil will be the last host country for at least a decade that will play more than three games in their home
tournament.

After the game we headed to Copacabana to catch up with a couple of our friends from Australia, Varun and Ish, for dinner. We then met up with half a dozen American friends, including Napo, to watch the US v Portugal game from a packed Fifa Fan Fest on Copacabana beach. The setting was really special, with a crowd largely consisting of patriotic Americans and Brazilians loyal to their mother country. Unfortunately, a goal set up by our least favorite player, Christiano Ronaldo, in the last minute of extra time meant the US was denied the win. To drown our sorrows we migrated to the Bacardi bar next to the beach to get stuck into some very large mojitos. At two in the morning we convinced a local to lend us his soccer ball so we could play a short game on the beach. What started as four on four (Aussies v Americans) quickly became fifteen on fifteen as people came from the beach, bars and boardwalk to join us. Two local kids no more than 12 years old ended up stealing the show with a far superior mix of skill, athleticism and sobriety.

The next day we slept in, did some shopping at the iPanema markets and had lunch with Napo before catching a bus back to Belo Horizonte, arriving the night before our fifth game, England v Costa Rica. At that stage, Costa Rica had already beaten two previous World Cup winners in its group (Italy and Uruguay) and needed only a draw against a third, the Poms, to advance as the most unlikely of group winners. On the way to the game we watched a motorcade come past transporting a very famous royal football fan (hint: this time he had clothes on). The result was the nil all draw that Costa Rica seemed to be playing for, which at least allowed England to leave yet another disappointing World Cup with a single point. Even so, there was still plenty of energy in the stadium, with the defiantly loud Brits only just drowned out by a chorus of Costa Ricans and Brazilians singing 'Ole Ole Ole, Ticos, Ticos’.

Following the game we headed back to Aline’s family’s restaurant to see replays of Luis Suarez inexplicably biting an opposition player…again! Just as ugly was the attitude of some British fans also sitting at the restaurant. They had turned up to the game dressed as flashy knights knowing that their team had already been eliminated, but when after the game a local wanted to take a photo with them (remember that people from Belo don’t see foreigners very often, let alone foreigners dressed up like that) they knocked over beer bottles on their way to shoving the camera away. You’d think that after so many poor World Cup performances in the last 50 years, the Brits would have gotten better at losing.

After saying goodbye and a thousand (but probably not enough) thank yous to Tanya and her extended family, we flew to Brasilia for our final two Wolrd Cup games. The first of these games was Portugal v Ghana, featuring Christiano Ronaldo, one of the most talented and least popular players in world football. There was some added excitement for us in this game because in a lot of ways it had more bearing on whether the US advanced to the next round than the US v Germany game that was being played at the same time. The formula was quite complicated, but essentially we wanted either a draw or a narrow Portugal win. When Portugal scored first, we started cheering the Ghanaians, but switched allegiances again after Ghana equalized. The 2-1 Portugal win combined with a 1-0 US loss was good enough, and when the final whistle blew the loudest cheers you could hear at the National Stadium in Brasilia were ‘USA, USA…’. During the game, Ronaldo did nothing to improve our very negative view of him, sulking around for ten minutes like a six year old boy because a teammate didn’t pass him the ball.

Our second Brasilia game was a few days later, so in the interim we did some sightseeing and spent some more time with our Aussie friends, Varun and Ish. We realized pretty quickly that Brasilia - the capital of Brazil that was created from scratch in just three years in an effort to encourage Brazilians to move inland rather than concentrating in southern coastal cities - is a very unusual place. It features some beautiful architecture that, in the 1960s would have looked futuristic, but in 2014 looks a little retro (but not in a tacky way). When the city was planned and built in the late 1950s, planes and cars were all the rage, so it was designed in the shape of a large airplane and it is a nightmare for pedestrians. The soil is a deep red that left us constantly wanting to wash our feet, and made us wonder how they manage to grow any fauna at all in the area.

Brasilia is also unusual in that almost all of the locals live a long way away from the planned centre of the city, which is mostly reserved for hotels and government buildings. The Fifa fan fest was initially proposed to be put in the hotel district, but was moved closer to the locals (presumably for political reasons), so to watch the Brazil v Chile round of 16 game we had to catch a train for half an hour and walk an hour (in total) to get there. The locals’ outpouring of excitement (and relief) when the Brazilians finally won the game in penalties was one of our more memorable World Cup experiences. With hindsight though, you have to wonder whether a round of 16 loss to Chile in penalties would have been less demoralizing than the semi final annihilation at the hands of Germany that followed a week later. 

Our final World Cup game was France against Nigeria, which admittedly was one of the least interesting round of 16 games but that’s the luck of the draw (if results had panned out differently, we might have seen Argentina play Switzerland). Even so, we were still thankful to be able to attend the Estadio Nacional - which we’d rate, together with the MCG in Melbourne, as our equal favorite stadium in the World - one more time to see a relatively free flowing game. After watching the last two round of 16 games (an Argentina win and a US loss, both in extra time) from various Brasilia bars, we headed to the airport, a little stunned that our month in Brazil, which we’d looked forward to for such a long time, had come to an end.

Before we finish our blog, we wanted to address one frequently asked question - was Brazil really as disorganized and dangerous as it was made out to be in the lead up to the Cup? Certainly there was plenty of evidence that Brazil could have been more organized, however mostly this didn’t impact our experience. The thing to remember is that Fifa  doesn’t just expect a host country to produce one stadium, two goals and a football - Brazil, as with any other host, was expected to
produce 12 new (or significantly remodeled) stadiums (we think 8 would be plenty and would have avoided some of the most passionate protests around this World Cup in particular, but lets not get into that). Host countries are also expected to produce a huge amount of broader new
infrastructure, including public transport, hotels, fan zones, media hubs etc etc.

In Brazil, the important stuff was ready enough in time for the Cup and nobody really missed the stuff that wasn’t ready. For example, I’m sure Fifa would have liked to see colorful sign-posts telling tourists how to get to the Fan Fest in Brasilia, but the black and white printed A4 piece of paper stuck lopsidedly to the metro station wall did the job. Seeing how slowly Brazilians work (for example we spent  an astounding one hour in a Brasilia airport baggage drop queue less than 8 meters long), it’s a wonder that they got anything done at all!

On the security question, we’re perhaps not the best judges since we spent most of our time in the safer parts of the safer (southern) cities, and had recently visited relatively more dangerous places like Bolivia. The security warnings were really directed at western tourists who were under the erroneous assumption that Brazil is as safe as home (so not us). The reality is that there is a lot of crime in Brazil and they don’t have enough police to get the problem fully under control. Even if you’re lucky enough to see a policemen driving through a suburban street their lights will inevitably be flashing; we’re told the intention is to tell criminals to wait until they have left the area before committing a crime. During the Cup there were plenty of extra police around the stadiums and Fan Fests, but we’d often see 20 of them standing together talking and then not encounter another for a kilometer or two.

In the end, we thoroughly enjoyed being able to see a World Cup in the spiritual home of football - a true once in a lifetime experience. Although we were sad that it was over, we flew to Colombia knowing that we still had plenty to look forward to in our backpacking adventures.

The Iguassu Falls sit on the Brazil-Argentina border near Paraguay and can be seen from both sides of the border. We arrived in Foz do Iguacu, the town on the Brazilian side, a couple of hours before the opening game of the World Cup, and headed straight to a sports bar to cheer on Brazil with the locals. The game got off to a bad start with a Brazil own goal but the atmosphere lifted as Brazil finished the game by putting three goals in the right net.

As it turned out, this was both a good and a bad time to visit Iguassu Falls. Good because torrential rain in the feeder areas during the previous week meant water was flowing over the falls at record levels (to be exact, at 33 times the usual rate, smashing the previous 1992
record). Bad because as a result the river below the falls had risen substantially, meaning the water had less distance to fall and had a distinct brown color. The Brazil side of the falls, which offers the more panoramic perspective from a higher position, was still fully open, and the views were incredible. While on the Brazil side, we took a boat trip under the falls, getting completely soaked.

As a result of the record water flow, a few of the trails on the Argentinian side of the falls were closed. This led a lot of people to decide it wasn’t worth the effort to cross the border. A key factor in our decision to go ahead and do it was the promise of one more Argentinian steak lunch. After overindulging on beautifully cooked meat and matching Malbec, we needed a nice long walk, and the trails around the Argentinain side of the falls were as good a place as any to do it. By affording us the opportunity to get much closer to the falls, the Argentinian side proved to be at least as impressive as the Brazilian side, so if you visit you really need to do both.

After filling our day pack with Argentinian colored face paint, beer, and musical instruments, we crossed the border back to Brazil more excited than ever about our first World Cup game the next day, watching Argentina play at the Maracana. There’ll be plenty about that, and the rest of our World Cup experience, in our next post.