Camera stress has re-ignited as when my camera started malfunctioning this morning in the Rio train station. Little is less welcome at 7am after an overnight bus trip. Today I was accompanied to the Manaus markets to gear up for my trip (anti-itch cream!!!) and price new ones. My camera is playing with me occasionally metering correctly but other times washing out in over exposure. Damn, I need my tripod. My tour guide is a bit creepy as he babysat me for the day and has no inhibition about patting me etc. but he was sweet enough to offer to loan his: “it’s a great camera and it will take nice pictures for you”. It is a point-and-shoot so if my camera continues to malfunction in the forest I may go crazy and defect to the tribe of Amazonian women.
I’m getting so frustrated with internet. Sometimes feeling like you are stepping back in time is a welcome experience but not when it is like stepping back to dial-up.
I am also giving up on uploading photos. Whether I should blame blogspot or the connection is pointless, I blame both.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Manaus - a Jungle Paradise That Is Anything But
Manaus is a lovely city I am sure but even its citizens admit that its only asset is the Opera house. I agree but must add the sparse historic buildings (from height of the rubber fortune in early 20th century) are charming and the hospital is fantastic. The hospital that I saw in Rio was a castle of health and easily the most wonderful building I saw in the city, even second to the presidential palace if the hospital were to be restored. I thought this hierarchy of building glamour was an accident in Rio but Manaus’ hospital is second only to the renowned opera house so I am beginning to wonder about the place of medicine in Portuguese culture, or if the size represents the extent of Malaria in the region.
The rest of the city (though I am told it is a 2 million person urban oasis) seems languid as though it were a living ghost town with bustling markets. There were about 3 streets of markets and shops (lojas) hawking goods but the rest of the city appears to be on a permanent Sunday afternoon, noticeably missing an infestation of tourists. Perhaps this is only because tour guides swoop in to arrival terminals and whisk visitors away to jungle lodges before they have time to populate Manaus streets.
Other noticeables include that I was the only backpacker on my flight from São Paulo to Manaus this morning. It was a massive, long distance, international airplane (seating 2,4,2 in economy) but not even half full. Actually it was rather nauseating to ride a gigantic half filled plane into Manaus. I had to resist crying "You are killing to rainforest for nothing!!! Flying planes into it introduces so much pollution and disturbance but for what?! This plane isn't even full so it is purely wasteful." Needless to say, guilt is creeping in; is it wrong to visit and promote the invasion of a pristine land? Perhaps it is better to avoid situations which begat moral questions while on vacation.
The rest of the city (though I am told it is a 2 million person urban oasis) seems languid as though it were a living ghost town with bustling markets. There were about 3 streets of markets and shops (lojas) hawking goods but the rest of the city appears to be on a permanent Sunday afternoon, noticeably missing an infestation of tourists. Perhaps this is only because tour guides swoop in to arrival terminals and whisk visitors away to jungle lodges before they have time to populate Manaus streets.
Other noticeables include that I was the only backpacker on my flight from São Paulo to Manaus this morning. It was a massive, long distance, international airplane (seating 2,4,2 in economy) but not even half full. Actually it was rather nauseating to ride a gigantic half filled plane into Manaus. I had to resist crying "You are killing to rainforest for nothing!!! Flying planes into it introduces so much pollution and disturbance but for what?! This plane isn't even full so it is purely wasteful." Needless to say, guilt is creeping in; is it wrong to visit and promote the invasion of a pristine land? Perhaps it is better to avoid situations which begat moral questions while on vacation.
Prepare Yourself Dear Amazon, I'm Comin' In
Tonight is the eve of my (first?) expedition into the Amazonian rainforest. Well, at least I hope we make it into the forest, under a full three tiered cover. I am nervous about my decision to give up the other gems of Brazil (including the ivory beaches of Fortaleza) for 6 days of mosquito bites and panther poo. After talking to a couple from Melbourne, I have been alerted to a disaster which I had not considered possible: getting bored in the Amazon. Three days was enough for them but my guide has “assured me” that I will get the down and dirty experience I want. However, I have spent the day shopping in sandals and a short dress so I am seriously questioning if the down and dirty jungle I want is the down and dirty he thinks I can handle. Actually, I hear (and believe) the typical jungle experience that is sold is a sanitized one of lodge on the edge of a river called Amazon. Speaking of such things, the river is damn big; they aren’t kidding. Flying into Manaus this morning we saw both rivers of white and black water. The white water is a bit of a misnomer as it actually has a reddish beige color from red clay. The black water does not have clay so retains a dark color and slices through the green abyss like a black racer through a meadow. Even from a plane the forest runs for as far as the eye can see (through the tiny plane window) and the river looks huge. I am eager to get into it and catch my Piranha and this is complemented by my eagerness to leave the stagnant Manaus.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Beached on the Shores of Ilha Grande with Half of Sweden
Today is my second day on Ilha Grande, which is just south of Rio and full or forest, beaches, and a bit of snorkling. My journy was planned for Tuesday but I only made it halfway to Rio’s bus station and then lost the rest of the day to violent motion sickness. I Rio’s buses have terrible shocks; I looked at the road and it wasn’t even half as bumpy as the ride. Poor Bruno had to collect me from the local bus station and the group of terrifed employees who didn’t understand what was wrong with me. Unfortunately charades is much more difficult when ill.
Sometimes the most interesting things come at the least expected times and places. When the ferry left the dock yesterday, there was a group of fisherman bringing in the morning catch, a catch of stingrays. I’m not sure fishing stingrays is legal but I didn’t have much of a way to ask. They cleaned and slaughtered the beautiful creatures on their boat then displayed them to me but at the critical moment when the ferry pulled away from the dock, a moment which I had been waiting for as it set up a triad of fisherman, jeering onlookers, and boat for a perfect picture- “memory card is full”.
The plan for today was to dive but a sheet of rain has covered the island for the day so all pousada residents have stuck around amusing themselves with each other. It’s fun to watch Australians to make a party wherever they go and Brits to find a party wherever they go. There are TONS of Swedish people on the island and yesterday I was the only non Swede on the beach. I have also began asking around and People say few Americans come. Some speculate that Americans prefer the big cities for shopping but many travelers note how little vacation Americans get and how they transition directly from university to work. No one seems aware of the fear of South American violence that is rampant in the States. I have yet to meet another American on the island and have seen maybe a handfull during my entire stay in Brazil. Canadians are also notably sparse. Today has washed out but yesterday we got to snorkle on a small beach. It was mediocre but that can make it more fun cause any find becomes a conquest in itself. I did also see a pufferfish, pipefish, and sea turtle. Maybe the snorkling wasn’t so bad.
My plans to return to the mainland and hunt down surfing lessons are quickly melting into the palm trees, rain patters on the roof, and velvety sand of Ilha Grande. The island is very touristy and comercial in the village but my pousda is quite and there are over 100 beaches on the island and at least 15 marked trails so.....
Sometimes the most interesting things come at the least expected times and places. When the ferry left the dock yesterday, there was a group of fisherman bringing in the morning catch, a catch of stingrays. I’m not sure fishing stingrays is legal but I didn’t have much of a way to ask. They cleaned and slaughtered the beautiful creatures on their boat then displayed them to me but at the critical moment when the ferry pulled away from the dock, a moment which I had been waiting for as it set up a triad of fisherman, jeering onlookers, and boat for a perfect picture- “memory card is full”.
The plan for today was to dive but a sheet of rain has covered the island for the day so all pousada residents have stuck around amusing themselves with each other. It’s fun to watch Australians to make a party wherever they go and Brits to find a party wherever they go. There are TONS of Swedish people on the island and yesterday I was the only non Swede on the beach. I have also began asking around and People say few Americans come. Some speculate that Americans prefer the big cities for shopping but many travelers note how little vacation Americans get and how they transition directly from university to work. No one seems aware of the fear of South American violence that is rampant in the States. I have yet to meet another American on the island and have seen maybe a handfull during my entire stay in Brazil. Canadians are also notably sparse. Today has washed out but yesterday we got to snorkle on a small beach. It was mediocre but that can make it more fun cause any find becomes a conquest in itself. I did also see a pufferfish, pipefish, and sea turtle. Maybe the snorkling wasn’t so bad.
My plans to return to the mainland and hunt down surfing lessons are quickly melting into the palm trees, rain patters on the roof, and velvety sand of Ilha Grande. The island is very touristy and comercial in the village but my pousda is quite and there are over 100 beaches on the island and at least 15 marked trails so.....
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
All You Can Eat Ice Cream
This is all-you-can-eat ice cream and in Brazil folks, not America. It was $2.50 USD!!!!!!!!! Note that Carol was not "double fisting" but holding the picture taker's cup. I think if someone tried this concept in the States, they would go bankrupt. Despite being unlimited, everyone still took smaller portions of ice cream than the smallest portion which is offered at Cold Stone.
Charades - Invaluable Preparation for Adult Life
Most behavior scientists believe that play during childhood is used to develop skills the individual will need in adult life. I fully agree and believe that Charades should be encoraged in all schools.
Yesterday was my first day in Brazil alone. I was surrounded by millions of other people but didn't have a tour guide or translator at my side, i.e. all hell broke lose.
I spent an exorbitant amount of time looking for a camera battery charger (mine was stolen at the hostel). Through my arduous search I found everyone to be very helpful and that the habit of
1) giving directions when one doesn't know how to get there
2) giving poor directions
is apparently an international phenonenon. Of course some of the directions were just poorly followed (on my part) but others were wrong in their own right.
Since my travels are pathetically meaningless without a camera. I resigned to buying a camera in the Brazilian shops and began comparing prices. We tend to ignore the extent of information that can be transfered with minimal verbalization. I amused many a shop keeper and though I always started in Portuguese, I tended to rely more on my years of dancing lessons rather than a sporadic week and a half of memorizing words. My favorite session was asking for cold medicine in the pharmacy. Three people stared at me leaning forward with mouths agape. When one figured out what I asked, the other two would tap their heads and congratulate the other with great praise and envy. I joke about charades but they were actually playing. That, as does any other interaction, ended with the little green book of words that I learn; everyone is charmingly thrilled to contribute to it.
Yesterday was intensely hot, I had a cold and I walked 8 hours straight but everything was rewarded. (Note it is correct that it was my second sickness and I got a cold in 40c=104f weather). A nice young man at the last place I priced cameras marched me all the way across the markets to a little both at which.... they had a universal charger! This creation is fantastic, "made in China" and inspired a gesture of making my heart beat and a kiss. The swamp of buying a camera was averted with $20 and the whole process entertained 5 people who were all taking special effort to help me.
Some notes on the efficiency of charades:
1) Approach young males first. They are always eager to help and don't seem to mind if it takes a long time.
2) Not speaking a language will not dissuade little boys on the street from playing pathetic, making puppy dog eyes, and trying to steal your necklace.
3) Charades only work when feeling well and fails when most important.
Yesterday was my first day in Brazil alone. I was surrounded by millions of other people but didn't have a tour guide or translator at my side, i.e. all hell broke lose.
I spent an exorbitant amount of time looking for a camera battery charger (mine was stolen at the hostel). Through my arduous search I found everyone to be very helpful and that the habit of
1) giving directions when one doesn't know how to get there
2) giving poor directions
is apparently an international phenonenon. Of course some of the directions were just poorly followed (on my part) but others were wrong in their own right.
Since my travels are pathetically meaningless without a camera. I resigned to buying a camera in the Brazilian shops and began comparing prices. We tend to ignore the extent of information that can be transfered with minimal verbalization. I amused many a shop keeper and though I always started in Portuguese, I tended to rely more on my years of dancing lessons rather than a sporadic week and a half of memorizing words. My favorite session was asking for cold medicine in the pharmacy. Three people stared at me leaning forward with mouths agape. When one figured out what I asked, the other two would tap their heads and congratulate the other with great praise and envy. I joke about charades but they were actually playing. That, as does any other interaction, ended with the little green book of words that I learn; everyone is charmingly thrilled to contribute to it.
Yesterday was intensely hot, I had a cold and I walked 8 hours straight but everything was rewarded. (Note it is correct that it was my second sickness and I got a cold in 40c=104f weather). A nice young man at the last place I priced cameras marched me all the way across the markets to a little both at which.... they had a universal charger! This creation is fantastic, "made in China" and inspired a gesture of making my heart beat and a kiss. The swamp of buying a camera was averted with $20 and the whole process entertained 5 people who were all taking special effort to help me.
Some notes on the efficiency of charades:
1) Approach young males first. They are always eager to help and don't seem to mind if it takes a long time.
2) Not speaking a language will not dissuade little boys on the street from playing pathetic, making puppy dog eyes, and trying to steal your necklace.
3) Charades only work when feeling well and fails when most important.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
We Are the Girls on Ipanema
So we might not be beautiful in the picture but we at least we are among the beautiful on Ipanema BeachA Little Big Building in a Little Neighborhood of a Big Cit
I will be sad to leave Rio. It is a shame that the image which is exported (at least to me) is of poverty, instability, and drug trafficking. I do not have statistics but it seems like many of the touristic regions would compare in crime rates to large cities anywhere in the world.
Today I walked around Catete, a region with beautiful, though decaying, architecture. Lovely buildings which seem like they would make prime real estate in other cities and once held fashionable elite now house tiendas (or convenience stores or deps; depending on which country you translate to), grocery stores, and deli/bakeries.
I ate lunch at a wonderful place which was something I would expect to see in a movie. The store was a cross between a bakery, diner, mini grocery shop, and convenience stand (gum, candy, etc.) and sat on a street corner with two side walls removed so it was completely open to passers-by and precious breeze. The convenience stand section held up the building at the corner. The bakery/diner was behind a winding glass counter borrowed from the 1950's. Customers could shop from delicacies behind the glass and sit on a stool to dine upon the top of the counter. Grocery items lined the back of the store and fully cooked chickens were available to buy for dinner. The bakery section of the counter had lovely pastries and divine cakes. The chocolate cakes of Rio must be among the best in the world and in this shop there were three cakes of particularly luscious chocolate truffle. The waiters buzzed behind the counter in light yellow uniforms edged in white and little hats.
The help was extremely friendly. When broken Portuguese tumbled from my mouth three waiters appeared. They were perfectly eager to help but I doubt any had studied any English. They continued to be attentive during my lunch as each took a turn offering me a glass of water and my counter must have been cleaned nearly four times while I was there.
Adorable houses reflecting (Portuguese influence I assume) line the avenue. A few stick out with intense beauty. Of note is the hospital.
A woman informed me the hospital is bad but it was a gorgeous building, appropriately dressed in pale blue and soiled white. Some of the faces have been cleaned but the back of the hospital has sagging shutters, graffiti and other sores leaving the building looking ill itself. The hospital with its statues, small gardens, and roof decoration occupies an entire street block. It sits with majestic gates enticing the pedestrian to weasel in and tour the medical palace. The fact that the hospital maintains some dignity while looking blatantly ill, is heart wrenching.
I had mistaken it for my destination - the presidential palace.
The palace is lovely with a wonderful garden of draping trees. The street level left me gaping at the beauty which sits in Rio. The first rooms are spectacular and worth a visit for any Rio tourist. However, the money spent on each room was clearly exponentially linked with the room's proximity to the street. Aplomb drastically decreased on the second floor and again on the third where the president's room is, fully preserved from the moment when one of Brazil's presidents committed suicide. The room is a national treasure indeed; but surprisingly ascetic even for 1954.
While I admire the palace as a fine work of art, I must admit it is fun to see in comparison with the excess of Europe. Every floor was a unique pattern of inlaid wood but there was little wood used else where which I found unfortunate as Brazil has the most beautiful wood. Instead, the palace imitates European palaces but, unable to afford granite, marble, and other fine rock, the palace becomes a monument of fine decorative painting. It was staggering how much of the palace was painted and the range of quality in the painting. A few of the stone finishes were incredibly accurate but there were a few pieces of granite which were..... where an apprentice must have been hired.
There were a few other indications that the palace is not in Europe: one is free to walk out on all balconies and to use the palace toilet.
Today I walked around Catete, a region with beautiful, though decaying, architecture. Lovely buildings which seem like they would make prime real estate in other cities and once held fashionable elite now house tiendas (or convenience stores or deps; depending on which country you translate to), grocery stores, and deli/bakeries.
I ate lunch at a wonderful place which was something I would expect to see in a movie. The store was a cross between a bakery, diner, mini grocery shop, and convenience stand (gum, candy, etc.) and sat on a street corner with two side walls removed so it was completely open to passers-by and precious breeze. The convenience stand section held up the building at the corner. The bakery/diner was behind a winding glass counter borrowed from the 1950's. Customers could shop from delicacies behind the glass and sit on a stool to dine upon the top of the counter. Grocery items lined the back of the store and fully cooked chickens were available to buy for dinner. The bakery section of the counter had lovely pastries and divine cakes. The chocolate cakes of Rio must be among the best in the world and in this shop there were three cakes of particularly luscious chocolate truffle. The waiters buzzed behind the counter in light yellow uniforms edged in white and little hats.
The help was extremely friendly. When broken Portuguese tumbled from my mouth three waiters appeared. They were perfectly eager to help but I doubt any had studied any English. They continued to be attentive during my lunch as each took a turn offering me a glass of water and my counter must have been cleaned nearly four times while I was there.
Adorable houses reflecting (Portuguese influence I assume) line the avenue. A few stick out with intense beauty. Of note is the hospital.
A woman informed me the hospital is bad but it was a gorgeous building, appropriately dressed in pale blue and soiled white. Some of the faces have been cleaned but the back of the hospital has sagging shutters, graffiti and other sores leaving the building looking ill itself. The hospital with its statues, small gardens, and roof decoration occupies an entire street block. It sits with majestic gates enticing the pedestrian to weasel in and tour the medical palace. The fact that the hospital maintains some dignity while looking blatantly ill, is heart wrenching.
I had mistaken it for my destination - the presidential palace.
The palace is lovely with a wonderful garden of draping trees. The street level left me gaping at the beauty which sits in Rio. The first rooms are spectacular and worth a visit for any Rio tourist. However, the money spent on each room was clearly exponentially linked with the room's proximity to the street. Aplomb drastically decreased on the second floor and again on the third where the president's room is, fully preserved from the moment when one of Brazil's presidents committed suicide. The room is a national treasure indeed; but surprisingly ascetic even for 1954.
While I admire the palace as a fine work of art, I must admit it is fun to see in comparison with the excess of Europe. Every floor was a unique pattern of inlaid wood but there was little wood used else where which I found unfortunate as Brazil has the most beautiful wood. Instead, the palace imitates European palaces but, unable to afford granite, marble, and other fine rock, the palace becomes a monument of fine decorative painting. It was staggering how much of the palace was painted and the range of quality in the painting. A few of the stone finishes were incredibly accurate but there were a few pieces of granite which were..... where an apprentice must have been hired.
There were a few other indications that the palace is not in Europe: one is free to walk out on all balconies and to use the palace toilet.
Rio- Can You Hold The Party A Second? I Need Some Sleep!
Cariocas (people from Rio de Janeiro) love to party. Contrary to what I had thought, Carnival is not just the four days, Saturday-Tuesday leading up to ash Wednesday. In addition, the way to best participate in Carnival is not by watching the iconic sequined costume structures sambaing down the avenue but rather participating in the parties on the streets and samba-ing your own jiggles on Rio cobble stones.
Carol and I arrived in Rio Friday morning and heard stories from all the hostel residents and cariocas Carnival had been so fun and partying for five days straight had been exhausting. I fretted that the whole affair had ended.
Friday Rio’s neighbourhood of Lapa hosted a gigantic music fest with a samba bandstand, reggae corner, and clubs with funke (a music motivating “pornographic dancing”) or techno pouring out. (Note that places with funke were advised against as favela citizens could be there which apparently implied anything could happen.) Thousands of people filled the streets to dance to a beat of their flavor. The night also took a stroll through any street urchin movie when Carol turned to me: “watch yourself, there is a group of little boys are following us”. Though unable to lose the boys Carol kept her purse as she clutched it despite the inevitable jerk.
Saturday we had to decide between dinner at a café and a street-by-the-beach party which was revving up. People wearing swimsuits and or silly carnival costume accessories congealed into a crowd which filled the avenue and spilled onto the beach and even through the block onto the adjacent avenue. Refreshment stands and hawkers moved from the beach onto the avenue as music filled the air. Of course, some people had to miss this party as they had bought tickets to a parade of the winners of the Carnival Samba parade which was to last 9pm-3am.
[Carol and I went back to rest at the hostel for an hour or two while deciding what to do. Lacking sleep, I woke up to my hostel neighbors packing and the curtains edged with a glow. Carol was still out.]
Those who imagine that the Sunday morning after 10 days of street partying might be languid, are wrong. The party started officially at 8am but I can not confirm that it waited that long to get going. A stage was mounted on a truck which moved along the avenue wounding through the consulates-turned-embassies. The numbers have yet to come in for 2010 but last year this after Carnival party attracted 500,000.
Astounded I have surveyed many Cariocas: Didn’t Carnival end Tuesday? Their response? “Oh well, yes and no. This is still Carnival!!!! It is really sad to see Carnival end as it’s just too much fun; we don’t want it to end!”
I think one must have to be born in Rio or at least Brazil for it to be physically possible to endure such hardcore partying. I’m exhausted and my dancing shoes might be worn out. The really nice thing about the parties here is that everyone is dancing everywhere and all the time. The party is not hard core from substance abuse but from high energy dancing in heat and moderate alcohol over many consecutive days. There is a lot of alcohol but it is not just about getting drunk; it is about fun and that doesn’t need alcohol.
The stories of drunk Brazilian males are not myths. My experience is that Brazilians are extremely warm, perhaps the most affable people. However, if you take the warmth and remove more inhibition with alcohol, Orianna starts giving very nasty looks, dancing away with Carol, and enjoying her lack of fluency in Portuguese.
After living in the States I thought Canada could party and I saw potential in Ireland after my visit. However, I have never seen another country party with the fervour of Brazil. Perhaps I should visit India?
Carol and I arrived in Rio Friday morning and heard stories from all the hostel residents and cariocas Carnival had been so fun and partying for five days straight had been exhausting. I fretted that the whole affair had ended.
Friday Rio’s neighbourhood of Lapa hosted a gigantic music fest with a samba bandstand, reggae corner, and clubs with funke (a music motivating “pornographic dancing”) or techno pouring out. (Note that places with funke were advised against as favela citizens could be there which apparently implied anything could happen.) Thousands of people filled the streets to dance to a beat of their flavor. The night also took a stroll through any street urchin movie when Carol turned to me: “watch yourself, there is a group of little boys are following us”. Though unable to lose the boys Carol kept her purse as she clutched it despite the inevitable jerk.
Saturday we had to decide between dinner at a café and a street-by-the-beach party which was revving up. People wearing swimsuits and or silly carnival costume accessories congealed into a crowd which filled the avenue and spilled onto the beach and even through the block onto the adjacent avenue. Refreshment stands and hawkers moved from the beach onto the avenue as music filled the air. Of course, some people had to miss this party as they had bought tickets to a parade of the winners of the Carnival Samba parade which was to last 9pm-3am.
[Carol and I went back to rest at the hostel for an hour or two while deciding what to do. Lacking sleep, I woke up to my hostel neighbors packing and the curtains edged with a glow. Carol was still out.]
Those who imagine that the Sunday morning after 10 days of street partying might be languid, are wrong. The party started officially at 8am but I can not confirm that it waited that long to get going. A stage was mounted on a truck which moved along the avenue wounding through the consulates-turned-embassies. The numbers have yet to come in for 2010 but last year this after Carnival party attracted 500,000.
Astounded I have surveyed many Cariocas: Didn’t Carnival end Tuesday? Their response? “Oh well, yes and no. This is still Carnival!!!! It is really sad to see Carnival end as it’s just too much fun; we don’t want it to end!”
I think one must have to be born in Rio or at least Brazil for it to be physically possible to endure such hardcore partying. I’m exhausted and my dancing shoes might be worn out. The really nice thing about the parties here is that everyone is dancing everywhere and all the time. The party is not hard core from substance abuse but from high energy dancing in heat and moderate alcohol over many consecutive days. There is a lot of alcohol but it is not just about getting drunk; it is about fun and that doesn’t need alcohol.
The stories of drunk Brazilian males are not myths. My experience is that Brazilians are extremely warm, perhaps the most affable people. However, if you take the warmth and remove more inhibition with alcohol, Orianna starts giving very nasty looks, dancing away with Carol, and enjoying her lack of fluency in Portuguese.
After living in the States I thought Canada could party and I saw potential in Ireland after my visit. However, I have never seen another country party with the fervour of Brazil. Perhaps I should visit India?
Friday, February 19, 2010
Bus Travel in Brazil is Great?!
In Rio.
The streets seem to look like any other city's. It is hard to see how they are notoriously more dangerous.
The buses in Brazil are fansatic. Much better than any bus I took in Canada/US and they make land travel seem far more desirable than air.. surprisingly.
It's sad that the favelas are so dangerous. Their twinkling lights are eriely beautiful. (sp. it's 6am after a second nearly all nighter... sorry but there is just too much to see!
Copacobana tomorrow?
The streets seem to look like any other city's. It is hard to see how they are notoriously more dangerous.
The buses in Brazil are fansatic. Much better than any bus I took in Canada/US and they make land travel seem far more desirable than air.. surprisingly.
It's sad that the favelas are so dangerous. Their twinkling lights are eriely beautiful. (sp. it's 6am after a second nearly all nighter... sorry but there is just too much to see!
Copacobana tomorrow?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Watching the Winter Olympics in a Bikini with a Bucket
I never thought I would blog. I arrived in São Paulo last Wednesday after 15 hours of luxurious hours of travel.
Carolina and I just returned from Carnival in Bombinhas, a small city south of São Paulo near Florianópolis. During the 14 hour drive bac kto São Paulo I summarized my week into two lists: wonderful things (W) and other memorable things (O). As we leave for Rio de Janeiro tomorrow, I must sleep and thus restrict myself to highlights only.
W1: I made it 5 days before visiting a Brazilian hospital!
Last visit I only made it 3.5 days so at this rate everyone should be signing up to accompany my next visit when I stand a whole before visiting.
Come on States, even Brazil has affordable medicine. A midnight ER visit to a private clinic and 3 medicines only coast about $150 USD. After vomiting 5 times in 60 minutes I was taken to the doctor. He diagnosed it as part of an epidemic of gastroenteritis. I slept 36 hours. We all (minus 3) ended up with a period of illness. Thankfully, I was the worst and it wasn't on the way home. Unfortunately, this has made me wary of visiting the Amazon. I don't desire Malaria.
W2: I discovered Carnival.
I was tragically under dressed for the event as my feather boas, wigs, and masks were left at home. However, all was forgotten if one's dancing was fast enough. All of Bombas was out from babies to grannies and ALL were dancing. In classic style, guys have speakers in the backs of their cars to participate in the my-music-is-more-fun-than-your-music contest. There was a small parade though nothing on the grotesque scale of Rio or Salvador. We were so drenched in sweat by the end of the avenue that we walked along the beach to dry.
W3: The Brazilian cuisine experience.
There were 10 of us in total renting the house. In the course of 5 days we consumed approximately 3 cows, 2 pigs, 1 chicken, 30 limes 6 packets of Tang, a bag of rice, and half a head of lettuce. The beverage of choice was Skol beer which makes it sound like the week was spent in drunken reverie. However, those familiar with Skol recognize it is closer to colored water than anything a German would drink. I seriously wonder if it's even possible to get drunk on Skol.
W4: Discovery- I can burn!
The first day of beach left my chest and shoulders looking like a bust carved from rose marble. I have never seen a burn of this nature and I took a picture for everyone's benefit.
O1: I bought a bikini.
The world cries as my "preserved" skin reflects sun as though it were the surface of the moon on a crisp winter eve.
O2: I forgot it is winter.
I'm so sorry Canada, I forget what snow feels like and I forget my 3 extra layers when I dress. However, it's amusing as I never realized how much "northerner creatures" we are.
O3:Lazy with Language.
I am trying to learn some Portuguese, especially as I prepare to go off on my own. However, it is easy to be lazy when even doctors in small Brazilian towns apologize at 2am for their poor English. Somewhere in New York Thomas Friedman is singing in his choir of banana boats, golden arches, flamingos, and whatever else he uses to herald globalization. However, I remain utterly humiliated and ashamed my mono-linguisity.
I would love to divulge upcoming plans but it is difficult to divulge plans that are yet unplanned. Tomorrow we set sail... wheel (?)..... for Ipenema and Copacobana beaches. After that I have 5-6 possibilities (though the Amazon is fading). Schrodinger, you have my intineraries but prepare as we experiment tomorrow.
Carolina and I just returned from Carnival in Bombinhas, a small city south of São Paulo near Florianópolis. During the 14 hour drive bac kto São Paulo I summarized my week into two lists: wonderful things (W) and other memorable things (O). As we leave for Rio de Janeiro tomorrow, I must sleep and thus restrict myself to highlights only.
W1: I made it 5 days before visiting a Brazilian hospital!
Last visit I only made it 3.5 days so at this rate everyone should be signing up to accompany my next visit when I stand a whole before visiting.
Come on States, even Brazil has affordable medicine. A midnight ER visit to a private clinic and 3 medicines only coast about $150 USD. After vomiting 5 times in 60 minutes I was taken to the doctor. He diagnosed it as part of an epidemic of gastroenteritis. I slept 36 hours. We all (minus 3) ended up with a period of illness. Thankfully, I was the worst and it wasn't on the way home. Unfortunately, this has made me wary of visiting the Amazon. I don't desire Malaria.
W2: I discovered Carnival.
I was tragically under dressed for the event as my feather boas, wigs, and masks were left at home. However, all was forgotten if one's dancing was fast enough. All of Bombas was out from babies to grannies and ALL were dancing. In classic style, guys have speakers in the backs of their cars to participate in the my-music-is-more-fun-than-your-music contest. There was a small parade though nothing on the grotesque scale of Rio or Salvador. We were so drenched in sweat by the end of the avenue that we walked along the beach to dry.
W3: The Brazilian cuisine experience.
There were 10 of us in total renting the house. In the course of 5 days we consumed approximately 3 cows, 2 pigs, 1 chicken, 30 limes 6 packets of Tang, a bag of rice, and half a head of lettuce. The beverage of choice was Skol beer which makes it sound like the week was spent in drunken reverie. However, those familiar with Skol recognize it is closer to colored water than anything a German would drink. I seriously wonder if it's even possible to get drunk on Skol.
W4: Discovery- I can burn!
The first day of beach left my chest and shoulders looking like a bust carved from rose marble. I have never seen a burn of this nature and I took a picture for everyone's benefit.
O1: I bought a bikini.
The world cries as my "preserved" skin reflects sun as though it were the surface of the moon on a crisp winter eve.
O2: I forgot it is winter.
I'm so sorry Canada, I forget what snow feels like and I forget my 3 extra layers when I dress. However, it's amusing as I never realized how much "northerner creatures" we are.
O3:Lazy with Language.
I am trying to learn some Portuguese, especially as I prepare to go off on my own. However, it is easy to be lazy when even doctors in small Brazilian towns apologize at 2am for their poor English. Somewhere in New York Thomas Friedman is singing in his choir of banana boats, golden arches, flamingos, and whatever else he uses to herald globalization. However, I remain utterly humiliated and ashamed my mono-linguisity.
I would love to divulge upcoming plans but it is difficult to divulge plans that are yet unplanned. Tomorrow we set sail... wheel (?)..... for Ipenema and Copacobana beaches. After that I have 5-6 possibilities (though the Amazon is fading). Schrodinger, you have my intineraries but prepare as we experiment tomorrow.
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