As incongruous welcomes go, a dodgy waxwork of Will Smith welcoming visitors to one of the Seven Wonders of the Natural World must score quite highly. But his effigy graces the arrivals hall of Foz do Iguaçu airport, at which we arrive having flown over large tracts of rainforest and the huge snaking Iguaçu river before rolling green pastures appear as we come into land.

Late night cocktails and samba moves mean we're knackered and slightly hungover when the alarm goes off, fortifying ourselves with a very hearty breakfast including multiple pão de queijo - chewy cheese puffs made with tapioca instead of wheat - and copious coffee to get us through the day ahead. Fortunately Coman opts for the correct lift this morning having got stuck in a service elevator with some confused chamber maids yesterday, much to my amusement.

Visiting any great city usually comes with recommendations from friends and acquaintances who have been before and with Rio we have been inundated with suggestions for restaurants, nightclubs, favelas and more. We've also learned that Felix, a guest on the Iron Maiden tour I met a few weeks ago in Mexico City, jumped ship when the band arrived in Rio and has thrown himself into the fabled nightlife scene. He's promised to take us to some backstreet samba bars to dance the night away.

It's almost 11pm on Easter Monday when we arrive into Rio and our guide Luana is waiting for us at the airport. She whisks us to our hotel on Copacabana beach in super quick time as there's little traffic to contend with at this time of night. We discuss the sights she's taking us to later this week and the very obvious one we're missing - Sugar Loaf Mountain or Pão de Açúcar as it's known to local Cariocas. The Number One sight in Brazil.

What a difference a day makes. Blazing sunshine greets us after yesterday afternoon's grey skies and an early morning run reveals a beautiful endless beach, fringed with pretty villas and coconut palms.

It's our final morning in Salvador, and hotter than ever; just stepping out of the air-conditioned environs of the hotel ensures we're dripping from every pore within just a few metres. The humidity is really quite overwhelming.

I've got four of them. Red, livid welts on my ankles. Nasty victories for the little bastards we'd done so much to protect ourselves from last night. But despite the long sleeves and trousers plus high factor deet repellent we'd sprayed in the evening, the mosquitos had got us both at lunch time in the hotel garden without us noticing. So for breakfast in the same place it's time for drastic measures - Marmite!

Eight years ago I was lucky enough to visit Sao Paolo with Iron Maiden. It was quite literally a flying visit as part of the first world tour they did in Ed Force One, their own jumbo jet. We returned to Brazil a couple of years later to premiere the film of that tour in Rio and take a boat trip up the Amazon to a gig in Manaus, made miserably more memorable by a severe reaction to my malaria medication.