Nationalities

For the next couple of weeks after the big football match, I counted down the remaining days of work at the hostel. Time was nearly up and the family were coming for a holiday. I spent my time working the bar and talking to the guests, but my friends had gone and I was becoming a little bored repeating the same conversations over and over again "Where are you from? How long are you out here for? Where are you going next?". I'd had enough of the hostel life, though Rio still did it for me, and was anxious to see the family again. I started thinking back over all the people I'd encountered and the different nationalities I'd met.

The most common nationality we'd had as guests was undoubtedly the Israelis. They had all completed their mandatory 3 years military service and, with the money they'd saved, come travelling. It's easy to stereotype nationalities in a place like the hostel, but it's even easier when the group in question almost entirely lives up to it. The majority of Israelis I met were travelling in groups of 5, 6 or more and largely kept to themselves. Some took this to be a rather elitist, position on their part and avoided them. Others took it to be just plain rude and did the same. As the barman, I was in a position where I came into contact with all guests, whether they wanted to speak to me or not. Speaking to one Israeli girl I discovered that their feeling towards the other nationalities was perhaps a mixture of ignorance and cautious curiosity.
"Why doen't anyone like Isrealis?" she asked, "nobody wants to speak to us".
"Maybe it's because you guys never speak to anyone else" I suggested.
"But they don't understand us. They just believe their media and think we're the bad guys. We don't want to kill people, we just want peace. What would you do if someone was bombing London everyday?". I hadn't even mentioned politics. This was one of many similar conversations I'd had with Israelis, who seemed to have, for want of a better phrase, a kind of quick-fire defense system of repeatable one-liners, when it came their dubious global image.

The second biggest group of travellers, for the obvious reason of proximity, is Argentines, though they come and go at particular times of the year. Unlike the Israelis, who appear in Rio all at the same time, as dictated by the one government travel advice website that most of them use, the Argentine travel season coincides, more logically, with their summer holidays. As the universities break up for 2 months, students from the other South American countries descend on Rio, but financially it's far easier for Argentines and Chileans to come to visit, hence their large numbers and the conspicuous absence of Bolivians, Peruvians and Equadorians. The young Argentines reminded me of British youths on booze-up trips to Ibiza or Faliraki. Loud, in-your-face and always demanding the dreaded Reggaeton (a monotonous, pop-dance genre, the most popular music of Argentina), they propped up my bar from open till close. Every night. I couldn't really hold it against them. They were just making the most of their time off and at least they were friendly. The Chileans were far more reserved in their drinking habits, but no less friendly and they became one of my favourite travelling nationalities.

After these, come the British and Australians. At least I knew what to expect from them and some of the best friends I made at the hostel were Brits and Aussies. The only other big nationality travelling were Canadians. Fun, easily approachable and culturally familiar, they came consistantly throughout the year, usually in groups of 2 or 3. Me and an American friend Luke noticed that most Canadanadians, as we called them, wore the Maple Leaf on their backpacks,
"It's so people don't think they're American" explained Luke with a smile. With this in mind, whenever a flag-bearing Canadanadian checked in, we'd break the ice by asking, "So, which part of America are you from?" which always provoked the same mock-shocked look and over- exagerated offence "Oh God no, we're Canadian!!" "Oh terribly sorry. Where abouts in Canadia?". This routine never got boring.

After re-living my days in Rio for 2 weeks, my friends Ben, Tom and Robin returned from Argentina for a couple of weeks which coincided with my family visiting. I caught up with everyone, showed Mum, Dad and Rosie around the city and savoured my last days in Brazil. Next stop: Argentina.