The forest is taking back this path.
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.
REALLY tired after our long night on the bus.
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.
Caipirinhas might have been my favorite part about 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.
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.
Out to dinner in beautiful Parati.
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.
Nobody else up there climbed up. Slackers.
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.
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.
Yum, African-Brazilian food.
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
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
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