Salvador is one of the more exotic places to visit in Brazil - it's got a completely different vibe to it. The center of the slave trade until its abolition (which only completely ended near 1900), this community has a strong african heritage, and is the home of condomblé (a mix of catholicism and arfrican mysticism) and very different food culture. It was also where everyone, including lonely planet, says "if you're going to be mugged/robbed anywhere in Brazil, Salvador will be it." Um, sweet.

So we arrived in an en-garde posture, and while trying to figure out how to get to our couchsurfing hosts apartment had our first bahian street food - acaraje. It's basically a hushpuppy, cut in half, with a creamy paste and shrimp inside (this first one was meh, so we actually didn't try it again for several days). We took the bus to his house, and that night the three of us went to the Pelorinho - the historical center of the town, which surprisingly, is also still the poor neighborhood despite being the tourist part. We would end up spending most of our time here, as it's the picturesque and cultural center of the city.

In the following days we walked along the coast, seeing the beaches filled with colorful sunbrellas, take a stroll through a few handicraft markets, touring magnificent (and oftentimes decaying) colonial buildings and churches, the squares where slaves were brought and sold, and running into bands of drummers parading down the cobblestoned streets. We ate the regional dishes like Moqueca (fish stew) and Bobó (another kind of stew).

Every day we would turn an extra corner and find another wonderful hill full of colorful houses. This was truly the first place that we got to take our time in a place (i know, i know, 5 days is only a relatively long time to be in a place).  Only once did I feel unsafe in the city, while carrying two hammocks through the emptying streets around 9 at night. And only really because the street vendor insisted we get a taxi for the three block trek home. 

Well, there was one other time that I felt nervous for our safety. We took the bus when we left our couch surfers apartment and headed into town to our hotel. We had all of our things in our large packs and the bus got very crowded. We had taken this bus several times in the couple days we had there, and knew that we went down the coast, up a hill, down a hill, up a hill, down it, and up one more hill to the Pelo.

I mistimed our trek and because it would be a struggle to pass all the people in the aisles to the exit, we got up early and started moving up. Unfortunately we got up way too soon (one hill early) and it was almost impossible for people to get by us to the exit of the bus, AND we were standing in the "reserved for disabled/pregnant/retired persons" section and a few of these retired people started verbally assaulting us and pushing me, forcing us to get off the bus about 1km from our destination. I owed Erin a drink for that one.

On our last day we opted to have a guide take us to a few places that would be difficult to do on foot and on our own. We first went to a local market that sold the food to restaurants and the people that sold fruit on the street, as well as many goods required for condomblé rituals and offerings. There are a lot of similarities between condomble and other african-based new world mysticisms, such as Louisiana Voodoo and Haitian Vodou (I almost bought a voodoo doll). It was interesting how the catholic church tried to combine this mysticism into it's calendar and saints in order to phase them into christianity, but were unsuccessful at actually getting the locals to give up their spirits.

Speaking of which, our next stop was the Bonfim church. You may have at one point noticed a little string tied around my wrist, which is a lembranca do senhor do bomfim, but are sold all over brazil. It was exciting to see the origin of this practice and to see the magnificent display of these little strips tied to every available surface in the church as a prayer offering.  Lastly we went to see an Orisha fountain, a controversial public work due to the rising evangelical population who see condomble as a devil worshiping cult (to be fair, they do have witches). We then took a little trip out of downtown to have two of the disputed best acaraje's in town. They were worlds better than the one at the airport (go figure).

All in all, I loved Salvador. I would love to come back here. But shortly after we left we were reminded how lucky we were to have felt so safe. Four days after our departure, a third of the city's cops went on strike, prompting a severe week-long crime wave including about eighty murders. It's terrifying to that there is such a delicate climate in this town, especially in the growth of Brazil as the worlds fifth largest economy. Along with the overt violence that happened in Salvador, and has historically happened in the favelas of Rio, many of the arcane purchasing restrictions that we've encountered on our trip are supposedly created to hinder crime, creating a frustratingly complex system to hold the balance of money and power.

The disparity between the haves and have-nots in Brazil (and furthermore in Mexico) have made me draw disturbing parallels with political discussion happening in the US. But lets not go into that. I'm also not going to focus on our frustrating and expensive last night in Brazil back in Sao Paulo. Nevermind that I bawled at the airport. The trip is taking it's toll on us, but  we're focusing on the great things we're able to experience.

We've got two weeks in Mexico before home, and we're going to make it a grand vacation.

-SB

Sao Paulo

Sao Paulo was not really a tourist stop. This is a city that I spent about two weeks every summer vacation hanging out with my grandparents and whenever my other relatives could stop by, with them. And that's pretty much what happened this trip. We arrived and our four days were a whirlwind of visits and trips with my relatives. We celebrated a birthday with my cousins, had pizza with my uncle, visited the soccer museum and historical center with my aunt, and had street food and played cards with my grandma.  I'm not sure erin had a great time, what with me having to translate everything that was going on, and not having any of the freedom to roam that we've had the past six months, but I was thankful to get to spend time with my family, which I see way too seldomly. Example: the last time I had come to visit, they weren't sure I still spoke portuguese. So I proved my continuing fluency, met the new girlfriends, learned about the new jobs, and promised to keep more in touch.

Parati

Giving my grandma a final big hug, we shoved off back to the bus station and hopped on a bus to Parati. A city of great importance in the 16th century as the port for gold, diamonds and coffee it lost significance with the building of an inland railroad to other ports. Now it's a quaint little colonial town surrounded by islands toward the sea and waterfalls to the hills. We only spent two nights here, but I could have spent much longer. Our favorite spot was a cascade called the toboggan, because the moss covers the smooth rock surface and ends in a pool, making it the coolest natural slip 'n slide ever.  This is one of those places where words cannot describe its quaintness, so please check out the pictures. you'll see.

Rio

While it was unfortunate that we had to leave Parati, we had a date to keep, as I was invited to referee a the Rio beach rugby tournament that weekend. I was pretty excited to take part, as I had never actually seen beach rugby before, but figured I could pick up on the differences pretty easily.

We had a stroke of extreme luck in that while we were going to be in Rio, a close family friend was sending her daughter to Buenos Aires to stay with my mom. So the two of them exchanged daughters and we had a wonderful room close to the metro and buses. Oh, and breakfast and wonderful food to come home to every night. Yes I will, thank you very much!

Henrique, the local ref, picked us up after a lovely breakfast and we arrived a couple hours before any games started (rugby is universal in it's tardiness). But once the games started there was hardly time to have food. One thing I hadn't really thought about was the fact that sand is effing hot in the summer in Rio ("duh", you may say - Hush, i reply), so Erin had to run and buy me socks so that I didn't burn my feet to a crisp. Even with the socks I was halfway to the refs tent while blowing the final whistle to save my feet. After two very sunny days, the final was played in a freak downpour which may not have been welcome by most beach-goers, but was perfectly pleasant for the players and refs.

Rugby duties done, we set our goals to touristing the city. Want to know a great idea in theory? climbing Corcovado, the 2400 foot mountain with Christ the Redeemer at the top. The first 45 minutes of the hike were fine, no big deal. But then we get to the climbing, and I mean this thing goes straight up for 1000 feet through a steep, hot, humid jungle. We only brought a liter of water (how hard could this hike be?), and when we got up to the top, we didn't even get a discount  on entry (why would you do that to yourself?). But it's fun to say we did it, not to mention the crazy looks we got from the locals when we told them we climbed.

And then we walked and walked around the city. We spent time in center, seeing spectacular old buildings, strolled in the posh Ipenama and Leblon beachside neighborhoods. We listened to live music in Lapa and went to the Sambodromo and watched a few Samba schools warm up for their Carnaval parades. And we went up to Santa Teresa, a bohemian neighborhood traditionally reached by a cute little train. Unfortunately the train was shut down last August when a crash killed 5 people and injured many others when due to several mechanical failures. eek. Luckily, because we had to walk up, we stumbled upon the famed Selaron staircase, which I've confirmed I'd seen in a music video.

We somewhat reluctantly left the city for a few days, originally to go to trendy and beautiful Buzios, but failing that due to holiday price hikes, we went to Ilha Grande, a large (and also beautiful) island halfway between Parati and Rio. A string of bad luck dampened the excursion, what with bad weather, erin being sick, and a botched hotel reservation (don't say you're ON ilha grande, when you're not). But we made the most of it with a full day snorkeling excursion.

We may have had time to do more if we hadn't had trip-planning to do. Besides the failed Buzios /Ilha Grande hotel debacle, and the normal couchsurfing requests, we found out mid-week that the flight that we'd bought at Christmas had never been purchased, thanks to a "sorry about that" email from the travel agent. Thanks. So, we literally spent 4 hours trying to buy another ticket online, and in the end had to ask our host to front her credit card and then go to the ATM to pay her back. grrr.

Luckily I'm not worried about missed opportunities in Rio, I'll be back. Maybe, quite possibly in 2016??

-SB

PS - Next up Salvador do Bahia and some final thoughts on Brasil.

Brazil may be the wildest place I've ever been.  That's counting Cambodia, Croatia, Bosnia and Thailand.   For our three weeks in the country, we went to quite a few cities, and it felt the same in each place.  The entire country (or at least the parts of it we saw) feels as though it might be reclaimed by the rainforest at any moment.   Palm trees sprouting straight out of concrete, the rainforest swallowing walking paths and every kind of insect poised to attack the moment a little skin is shown.  Camping was interesting.  After Iguazu Falls we we had planned on going to Florianopolis, a small beach town south of Sao Paulo.  However, when we went to buy our tickets, as would become the rule rather than the exception, we found that we had to change our plans.  Tickets to Florianopolis were sold out, so we decided to head to Curitiba instead.  

Four hours later we boarded our very fancy overnight sleeper bus.  Very fancy except that the seats didn't actually lay flat like the ticket seller claimed, and as soon as we were on our way, we found that the overhead compartment was so loose that with every small bump it emitted a very loud squeaking noise.  Not exactly the makings of a good night's sleep.  Now, as a kid growing up watching MacGyver, I'd always dreamed of being able to thwart bad guys with a rubber band and a pencil, build an internal combustion engine with things found on the beach or fix a squeaky overhead compartment with the contents of my backpack.  So I set to work on it.  First, I added as much weight as I could to my reusable shopping bag (luckily I had just bought a bunch of Spanish baby books for some friends of mine) then tied it to the railing closest to the noise (also luckily the seat below was empty).  This helped quite a bit, so I settled in to get a little shut-eye.  About one minute later, I quickly realized a flaw in the plan.  Every time the bus took a turn the shopping bag would swing wildly on on its handles, and I was easily able to picture my knot coming loose, and the books knocking either Steph or me (or an unsuspecting sleeping passenger) unconscious.  No good.  So I got back up, zipped my jacket around the bag and attached one of the sleeves to the window of the still empty seat.  Problem solved.  New problem created…on my way back to my seat I stepped on a full juice box that was sitting on the floor.  Juice everywhere, all over my legs, on the floor, and slowly making its way to the passengers in the back.  I quickly grabbed the blanket from the empty chair, threw it on the juice and headed back to bed.  Problem solved (except for the sticky legs).  All good until at the next stop (at 2:30am) when a new passenger got on.  Guess where he was sitting.  Of course.  In the chair that now had a swinging bag full of books dangling over it, with my jacket tied across it, and a juice covered blanket.  Though here's where I got really lucky.  Steph explained the situation (thank goodness for her portuguese) about the noisy bin and the juicy blanket, and the guy said it was no big deal, squeezed under the jacket and went to sleep without a blanket.  I think he probably slept better than I did, as I spent the rest of the night worried that he would either be smashed by my books or cold.   It was a fun start to Brazil.

We worked our way up the coast from the South, and most of Southern Brazil was spent on a beach with a caipirinha in one hand and a pastel (brazilian form of an empanada) in the other.  It was a nice vacation within a vacation.  Between the sugar, alcohol and fried dough, I probably gained about 5 pounds over that week.  Then I rolled my way onto another bus, and off we headed for Sao Paulo.  

Sao Paulo is where Steph was born and where much of her family still lives, which meant that this city was a little less about sightseeing and a little more about family time.  We stayed with her Grandmother, were taken sightseeing by her aunt Thelma, and out to dinner with her uncle Fabio.  It was fun being included in another family, listening to another Grandmother's stories.  It was interesting how similar the stories were, which was yet another reminder of how small the world is, and how we really are living together on one small planet instead of being as insulated as we think we are in our own countries.  Steph's grandmother had many memories of WWII, and made money by creating replicas of fabric patterns created in Paris.  My own grandmother still has my grandfather's WWII uniform, and worked for a time as a seamstress.   It's so far away, and yet strangely familiar.  Steph's grandma also tried to feed us way too much food.  Classic example of Grandmotherly behavior.

Making our way up the coast of Brazil, our next stop was the small colonial village of Paraty.  Paraty (pronounced pah-dah-chi), was once the biggest port in Brazil, with the surrounding land supplying the portuguese with gold, diamonds and iron.  Thinking that these resources would last forever, the Portuguese poured money into this city, building up a large and very charming village.  Then, of course, the resources ran out, and the town shrunk as most of the citizens headed for the cities with more possibilities, leaving behind empty beautiful buildings.  The town only had a resurgence recently when people figured out that the city was ripe for the picking as a tourist destination.  We spent two nights there, one night in a hostel, one night camping.  Camping in Paraty may have been the worst camping that we had on the entire trip.  It was thirty dollars per person person per night, the ground was muddy and the bathrooms were dirty.  Not so bad, those things we're used to.  What we weren't necessarily used to was camping next to a discotech.  Tents don't keep out much noise, so we listened to dance and techno music until about 4am.  It was so loud we might as well have been camping on the dance floor.  Needless to say I woke up at 7:15 when the sun came up (which meant the temperature went up to about 85 degrees), after having had three hours of sleep, pretty grumpy and happy to board a bus for Rio de Janiero.

Rio is one of those cities.  One of those cities like London or New York or Paris that we see so many times in movies (I can't even tell you how many times I've seen the Christ the Redeemer flyover) that we feel like we know it.  And when I first arrived, it was strangely familiar.  Before we went to Copacabana beach (where we spent our first two days) I almost knew what the boardwalk would look like.  Beautiful tiled sidewalks, beach huts selling fresh coconuts and sun bathers in very small swimsuits as far as the eye could see.  I, myself, was not in a very small swimsuit because the reason that we spent two full days at the beach was for a rugby tournament that Steph was helping referee.  From my comfortable seat under an umbrella next to a cooler full of water, everyone looked like they were having a great time, though I had a hard time seeing why.  It was hard to get past the fact that the sand was so hot everyone had to wear socks (not fun on the beach).  And on top of that, watching people get tackled and having their faces shoved into the hot sand.  Not my idea of a good time.  I'll let Steph tell you more later.  

After the tournament, we pretty much touristed our way around the city, trying to hit all the big sights, Ipanema, Lapa, Santa Teresa and Downtown.  We even climbed up to the Christ the Redeemer statue.  Yes, you read that right.  Climbed.  It seemed like a good, "fun way to get exercise and save a little money" way to get to the top.  Information that I read about the climb said it would take about 2.5 hours.  Now, usually when a hike guidebook says that, it means that the climbing part of the hike will take about an hour.  Not true with this one.  The climbing part took 2.5 hours.  2.5 hours of climbing so steep that at parts we needed to hold onto a chain provided to keep from falling backwards.  It was a really hard hike.  And at the end of it, when we finally got our very sweaty selves to the top, we found out that the ticket to get in was the EXACT same price than if we would have taken the very expensive bus to the top.  Sigh.  Brazil 1, Us 0.

Our last town to visit in Brazil was much farther north and so different that it might as well have been in another county.  It was far enough away that we had to take a plane to get there, and it seemed that many Brazilians consider it the 'true Brazil' or the soul of the country.  When we landed in Salvador, we had five days to spend in the city.  I read quite a bit about Salvador before we left, and was looking forward to seeing another side of Brazil.  This is the part of the country where most of the African influence still lies - a little like the deep south in the states.  Of course the part the interested me the most was the food - having never been to Africa (save for Morocco) I was looking forward to experiencing a new cuisine.  And new it was.  Salted cod fritters, dende oil, spicy fish and coconut stews, and more fruits I had never seen before.  Heavenly.  The only real drawback was the fact that Salvador has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous cities in Brazil.  Like, so dangerous that we were told to take a taxi even if we were only going three blocks.  We got very good at carrying nothing but a small amount of cash on us at any point.  I read in a guidebook that, "muggings can happen at anytime, sometimes in broad daylight.  Recently muggers have taken a more violent turn, with the perpetrator pushing the victim to the ground and emptying their pockets.  But don't worry, this has happened to me, and it's not all that bad."  Not all that bad??  Luckily we didn't experience anything of the sort, and were able to make our way out of Salvador (and Brazil) with all of our belongings.

Actually, almost all.  When we arrived in Mexico City and picked up our bags I quickly noticed that someone had gone through most of the pockets.  Good news:  I only lost one thing.  Bad news: it was my really nice multi-use leatherman pocket knife that my sister got me before I moved to Istanbul last year.  We used that thing for EVERYTHING, including giving each other haircuts along the way.  Luckily, we'll be home soon enough that I won't need another haircut before we get back.  But still very sad.

Now we're in Mexico, and I'm having a blast.  Looking forward to writing about it.  Last country before I'm home!


-EC