So in an earlier post I inferred that the scariest part of this trip was not the possibility of running into Maoist rebels in Peru, nor street criminals in Rio, but rather skiing down a mountain in Chile. I was wrong. Pictures of us hang-gliding over the beaches of Rio are at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/48052163@N00/sets/72157606379874818/
While soaring past Christ the Redeemer was the highlight of Ashley´s life, mine was probably landing. This of course was after flying for a couple minutes, hearing the guy piloting the ´plane´talk to himself in Portugese, and then look over at me and mutter in broken English, ¨turbulance¨ as we headed toward the high rise hotels on the beach. This is a word that terrifies me in a real plane, never mind in something that looks like it was possibly made from Legos.