Great Big World Out There

A van, a plane, a bus, a train, another bus, yet another bus, a boat and a freaking bike

We got to the Campo Grande airport around noon, the van part of the journey over.  We were headed to Ilha do Mel, another place I would never have chosen to visit if I weren't following someone else's tour of Brazil.  I thought Val's journey was insane (and I'd booked it! - she had to go by van to Campo Grande, fly to Sao Paolo, fly to Miami, fly to Toronto, fly to Edmonton and be met by my dad with her van so she could drive herself home).  Our journey to Ilha do Mel didn't take quite as long (36 hours) but it was weird. See the title.

Once we got to the airport we needed to pay for our flight that day and later on in the week to Iguassu Falls.  None of the Gol employees spoke english and our phrasebooks weren't terribly helpful with whatever problem was with paying for the flights.  A savior appeared in the form of an employee from another airline that sorted everything out.  For some reason both of our flights had to go on my credit card - even the guy who spoke English couldn't explain the reason -we had separate reservations, after all, but at the end of the day, it was just easier.  Weird, but easier.

That done, we figured we'd check in our bags and then find a taxi to some of the places the Canadian had told us about the night before.  Except Gol would not accept our bags for check-in until 2 hours before our flight (which I think might have been around 5pm? This was shortly after 12!)  We weren't going to drag my blue butterfly suitcase and Airell's giant backpack around Campo Grande so we asked about storage lockers.  

Apparently there were some lockers, but either they were closed or the language barrier got in the way again, but we ended up staying in the airport until time for our flight.  It's a small airport - larger than the one in Lethbridge but smaller than the one in Hamilton. On the bright side, they sold beer at the viewing area on the second floor, the chairs were deadly uncomfortable but it was better than the rows of seats on the main floor.  It was an interesting afternoon.  Lots of people came up to the viewing area to watch their loved one arrive or leave - it's a lot more meaningful there since you walk across the tarmac to your plane (wherever you want, under wings, etc, all the places you are roped off from when you walk across the tarmac in Canada/USA).  They'd wave and they'd wait until the plane left.  There would be this sometimes silent, sometimes not so silent competition between family members to find their person and point them out to the rest of the group.  I thought it was pretty entertaining - but people watching is one of my favorite activities.   I remember the weirdest stuff about that afternoon - Airell was amazed by how long the runway was and went to great lengths to explain to me why exactly it had to be so long.  (This has something to do with heat and air and lift and other things I expect I shall learn about when I sign up for flight school myself).

What can I say? It was a long afternoon and I was looking for anything to remain occupied - there weren't any places to plug in my kindle and I almost out of battery power.  I had one book with me - but I reserved it for take-offs and landings and since I had a lot of those to go - I didn't want to waste it.  I was so sick of watching the movie they played on Tam before takeoff.  

Anyway, eventually it was time to drop our bags and even more eventually, it was time to get on the plane.  We'd played my favorite trick and booked seats at the back of the plane, one on the aisle and one on the window.  If you want a better chance of getting a row to yourselves, this is the way to go - as long as you're at the back of the plane.  Worked like a charm.

 I don't recall if we had to fly to Brasilia and connect to Curitiba or if there was a direct flight. The flight details aren't in my email and it really doesn't matter anyway.  By the time we got to Curitiba it was late, dark and we had to find our way to the hotel near the train station, at which Airell had made a reservation. In the SK itinerary they'd used some kind of shuttle/bus service that was pretty cheap ($10R?) to get there so we wandered around the airport until we found the desk.

At the desk we got giggles in response to any question in English - so out came the phrase book. Somehow we managed to get a ticket on the bus, find the bus and then find out what stop we needed to get off at.

Then came the hard part.  The train station and the hotel weren't really in a snazzy part of town, if you know what I mean.  I think we had the name and address of the hotel, we could see the train station, but we didn't have any idea which way we needed to go to find the hotel.  It was like the worst geocache ever - we were tired, hungry and we couldn't eat or sleep until we found the damn place.

Finally one of us spotted it and figured out how exactly to approach the place (this section of town was weird, with fences in the median and no crossings anywhere near the hotel or where we were).  We had to walk a block or so down the street, towards an overpass under which several people were sleeping under cardboard boxes.

Airell claimed not to have noticed the homeless people.  Amazing.  We were less than 20 feet away from them, and the underpass was lighted.  It's not like the hotel would move if he took his eyes off it.  

A view from our room the next morning:

As hotels go in Brazil, this one was actually pretty nice.  The front desk guy spoke really good English (though Airell still tried portuguese, much to their amusement) and shortly we'd checked in, found our room and decided to go find something to eat.  

Did I mention this part of town was sketchy? Because it was.  There was no restaurant in the hotel and the front desk did not recommend walking anywhere to get something to eat - but they did have an assortment of menus from places that delivered.  We picked out what we wanted, and then, most importantly, the front desk guy (wish I remembered his name) called the restaurant and placed our order.  I can't imagine what we would have gotten if he hadn't helped us with that.  

We went back upstairs to wait for our dinner to arrive and found out that netflix in Brazil had How I Met Your Mother.  Eventually you just want to watch some tv, you know?  At the time you couldn't get it in Canada - which was annoying since I'd gotten hooked on the show while traveling in the US the year before. I had to buy the DVDs to get caught up on the series.  

And now it is available on Canadian Netflix.

Finally the pizza arrived:

That, my friends, is a pizza that is half ham, egg, olives and onion and the other half is banana and cinnamon.

It was strangely excellent - I think mostly because it was so weird. Also we? Were starving.  

The hotel offered breakfast so the next morning we ate quickly, checked out and walked across the street to find the train station.  We needed to get tickets on the Serra Verde Express Mountain Range Train - this would get us to a town called Morretes, where we could catch a bus? a taxi? who the hell knew? transport to the boat that would take us to Ilha do Mel.

Now again - this is not a place I think I would have found on my own.  Then again? Maybe I would have.  I never really got into making a plan of where to go and what to see, like I said before, because I wasn't sure whether I'd be going.  Then it was easier to just follow someone else's itinerary and eventually it was easiest to just let Airell do all the planning.  Which was weird. I always do the planning when I travel - and sometimes it isn't much other than - well, I'll fly here, rent a car there and see where I end up.  Still, I usually make the decsions. Or at the least, I have a lot of influence on the decision.  If you know what I mean.

So this trip was pretty weird for me.  I could get used to just following someone else around - especially when I'm basically crazy.  Airell should get a medal for successfully a) not deserting me without a phrasebook and b) letting me tag along on an awesome adventure.  

So.  We had to get on the train.  The higher class trains with english guides were sold out, so we got a portuguese version.  At the last minute, Airell suggested that since Ilha do Mel did not have roads, it might be a good idea to leave my luggage in a locker.

This was a good idea, but I had about 15 minutes to make it happen.  And I had no carryon, only the canvas bag we'd been given at the conference a couple weeks before.  It wasn't very big - and I would be without my luggage for a couple of days.

I found a cloth bag thing at the gift shop in the train station and asked someone where I could find a locker.  At the bus station - which was just next door.

Alrighty.  I ran over to the station, found a locker and then had to complete a very complicated process of buying a token for the locker.  At some point a complete stranger came up to me and started giving me advice.  Cannot tell a lie - my alarm bells were going off - was he helping me to figure out what I had worth stealing? Was he hitting on me? Just a friendly guy seeing a lady in distress?  All of the above were possibly true.  But I also had a train to catch and I needed the help.  He helped me get a token from a newsagent shop across the hall from the locker, helped me insert the token and then he went on his way.  I packed my 2 pathetic bags with all due haste - including almost everything one would need for a couple of days away from your luggage.  I left my laptop behind in my suitcase because I did not have room for it.  

I don't know how anyone else packs under pressure, but damn, I did ok.  I forgot some stuff, but I had the important bits like my wallet, a swimsuit, sunscreen, a scarf, my meds (a bag all on its own) a jacket and assorted bits of clothing.  

All stuff into the equivalent of a reusable shopping bag you'd get at Safeway.  

I've never felt like more of a hobo.  You know, if I'd planned to stay in Brazil longer (and before I found out I was sick I was planning to extend my stay - but then I was busy being sick and it seemed a good idea to stick to 2 weeks) I'd have used a different suitcase.  Maybe I'd even have gone out and bought a proper backpack.  As it was, I used a lightweight suitcase owned by my niece and it worked for me.  That suitcase made some miles and I had to get it repaired when I returned to Canada, before I returned it to Anna.

So when it came time to board the train I was... frazzled.  The trip on the train was amazing - so glad someone in SK learned about the Island and the awesome journey to get there. A selection of pictures:

Aren't these trees cool looking?

I have dozens of this view of the train.  It was only the second time I've ridden on a train that wasn't in an amusement park!

Every now and again we'd pass derelict buildings on the side of the tracks. It was something to take a picture of, so I did. 

The views from the train were awesome.

See?

See?  What is embarassing is that I was so tired during the train ride that I had to fight to stay awake.  I chalked it up to moving non-stop (despite hours in hammocks) and the crazy rappel into the cave.  What I realize now is that I was starting to suffer from an undersupply of thyroid hormone.  It should have been obvious.  Instead I was simply bewildered by my sudden ability to fall asleep anywhere at almost anytime.

That is not me.

We got off the train in a town called Morretes.  There were a few options to get to the port in Paranaguá where we could find a boat to take us to Ilha do Mel.  Taxi or a bus.  The taxi? $100R. The bus? $4R.  (About $2 CAD)

We took the bus.  Airell befriended Julie, a backpacker from the Czech Republic, in the train station in Morretes while I set off in the direction of the bus station - she was headed the same place we were so we ended up traveling to the island together.  We had to wait for a bus to the city of Paranaguá, so I took the time to buy something to eat at the shop in the station.  I couldn't identify anything I saw, and they all looked to be pastries full of some kind of meat.

It was tasty. And more importantly, filling. 

The first bus took us to the station in Paranaguá.  Julie spoke a bit of portuguese - she'd spent her summer teaching in a school somewhere in Brazil (I forget quite where) so with her help we found the right bus to take us to the port.  I remember the second bus station taking a very long time, and I was really tired.  I started thinking about life, the universe and everything, and more importantly, my place in life, the universe and everything, and despite my best intentions - my head got into a really weird space.

I hate to keep bringing this up - when I left Canada I had permission from the doctor to travel, but I did not have the results of the pathology.  I confess that part of the reason I wanted to stay in Brazil was that I couldn't get the results until September, when the doc would be back from his vacation.  I had worrisome test results and I'd read oncology papers that scared the crap out of me - based on my test results.

90% of the time I was ok. I was supported by prayers of people around north America.  The other 10%? (Or insert arbitrary number here) - I was not ok.  And it didn't matter how many times you told me not to worry, that I would be ok, I was still plagued by that test result and the reading I'd done.

I challenge anyone to live through that and remain positive and upbeat ALL. THE. TIME. They could teach lessons, because I couldn't do it. I tried.

Anyway.  This was one of those time where I got into my head and got into a downward spiral that was going to take some work and prayer to crawl out of.

Good thing Airell had company.  For I? Was not good company.

When we got to the port we had a bit of fun finding the ticket office, then more fun buying the tickets and then we just missed a boat leaving for the island.

So then we sat and waited on the next boat for about an hour.

More time to get inside my own head.  I looked at this view for all that time:

The boat eventually filled up, and the departure time approached and voila, we were underway.  I finally got to capture the upside down moon that I kept describing to people when I'd been in Australia:

Good thing I captured that bit of roof to prove that the moon is backwards below the equator.  I never did see the Southern Cross. 

If memory serves, the boat ride to the island was about half an hour.  A half an hour in which the sun was setting:

It was sublime:

And finally, after 36 hours (not adjusting for time zones), we had reached our next destination.

And what a destination it was.  

malaria pills and random strangers

So there's been this thing I've been forgetting to mention - malaria pills.  I'd gotten the suspicious biopsy result but I don't think I'd met my surgeon quite yet, or hell, maybe I had and he'd told me I would be able to go to Brazil, anyway, Val and I went to a travel immunization clinic.  

The visit basically consisted of a nurse looking at a map of Brazil, noting all of the things that could kill you or make your life unpleasant and then selling us another shot/pill.  I was up to date with most regular immunizations - I step on a nail every 9 years and so my tetanus is good, and has been for at least 26 years (due to step on another nail in the next year).  

I don't recall what all we got - yellow fever for sure, dukoral for travelers diarrhea (tasted like crap) that also immunized for cholera.  Val needed the hepatitis shots - I got mine a decade ago when I first went to the Dominican Republic. 

Our tentative travel plan included a trip up to the amazon - a prime malaria spot.  So, the nurse wrote Val a prescription for malaria tablets and I was told to have my doctor write me a prescription (the nurse had to charge for writing the script).  I had the doctor's office on speed dial at the time so a simple call to the nurse to ask if I needed to come in for the script had them calling the script in to my pharmacy.  Convenient.  In the meantime we decided to go to the Pantanal instead, which wasn't part of the prime malaria area BUT we figured, ehh, we got the pills so we might as well take them.  Your start them when you get to the malaria area, continue while you are there and then for a specified time afterward. 

Heavens.  That was way too much information to get to the main point, the thing they don't tell you about anti-malarials.  

Vivid. Crazy. Ass. Dreams.  I don't remember most of mine - but I recall waking from time to time while on them and thinking 'what in the name of eff was that about?'  Seriously. WEIRD CRAZY DREAMS.  All caps isn't enough for the weirdness of them.  Ask anyone that's been on anti-malarials - IS CRAZY ASS CRAZY.  With a side of WTF and REALLY and HUH, I WAS NOT AWARE THAT WAS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE?

The one I remember, naturally, was not that exciting and I am going to be super-dull and share it with you now and you will think, 'yeah, crazy ass dream right there' while smiling and nodding.  It was about returning to Rio, I became obsessed with getting the perfect tattoo and I dragged Airell over the entire city to find the perfect shop to get that tattoo.  

I wish I could remember the others. Or what and where the tattoo would be/go. The dreams were weird but high on the awesome scale.

***

So, when last we met at a screen near you, I was going on about floating down rivers and rapelling into caves to scuba dive in a lake.  Note: My sister was not impressed with me diving so soon after surgery. What can I say - I was on the batshit side of insane.  

I was, in a word, exhausted by the Abismo Anhumas excursion.  It was time for some food - we'd had granola bars while in the cave but it had been a long time since breakfast.  

Of all places, I ended up going back to the rat restaurant. We did not order rat.  We did get the caiman bites again, a copious amount of beer and heavens, probably some other food.  When we got back to the Muito Bonito, we had to move to a new hotel.  We were originally intending to leave Bonito that morning, and while Pamela, concierge extraordinaire thought she had room - in fact, she did not.  

She did find us a room at a hotel just down the street for the same price.  The directions were vague - oh, down the street and over there with a general wave of her hand.  (This type of help might not seem up to north American standards but she was so friendly and happy you didn't care. Also, on vacation so whatever).

The new hotel? Did not have wifi.  We were allowed to spend time at the Muito Bonito and have breakfast there. Perfect. I think I spent the rest of the afternoon comfortably ensconced in one of those hammocks, reading a book, napping and watching the clouds and people go by.  Since we'd changed our departure date from Bonito, we'd had to book flights to our next destination.  This was both harder and easier than you'd think. The Brazil airline most analagous to Air Canada is Tam. Tam offers an airpass that allows you to hop around the country way cheaper than buying flights individually.  The catch? You have to book your flights ahead of time and you can't change the destinations.  I hated this - I like to leave my options open.  

Anyway.  We had to get ourselves to Curitiba for the next part of the trip.  Busses were an option (16h?) but the timing didn't work out for some reason. THANK HEAVEN.

Well, turns out, Brazil has more than one airline (IMAGINE THAT).  Gol became our airline of choice for the rest of the trip - cheap fares and good service.  The one thing that was annoying? Their website did not accept international credit cards.  But!  You could make a reservation and pay at the airport.

So we'd done that maybe the day before, or maybe while at the Santa Clara.  We had to book more flights at some point and so I logged into my Gol account (yes, I have one of those) and damned if that pay-at-the-airport-reservation was cancelled.  Apparently the fine print says that you have to pay within a certain time and our time? Was up.  

But! If you got on a livechat with an agent, they would take your reservation code (once you rebooked the same damn seat you'd already booked) and put a hold on it for long enough for you to pay at the airport.  You know, when you weren't 5 hours away with only a Canadian credit card as a payment option.

I dunno, but I thought that kind of service was awesome.  I miss being able to make a reservation and paying for it later.  

Eventually it was time to eat again - we'd met some people in the cave that suggested where to go, there was supposed to be live music so we wandered in the general direction of the place we thought the live music was.

We never did find the live music - but we did find a quaint little place on a corner with tables outside and a decent vibe.  The waiter did not speak much, if any, English and this attracted the attention of a group at a nearby table.

Turns out there was another Canadian at the next table.  A PhD student in town on a break while doing some field research.  Her study was on the Japanese immigrant experience in Brazil.  There was a reason this was/is important but I could not possibly tell you what it was/is.  Anyway, she was doing her work in Campo Grande (where we were headed to catch a flight with a massive layover after a van ride from Bonito).  They were full of suggestions of what to do, and where to go.  We would be there on a Monday so the market wouldn't be open, but apparently the Japanese noodle restaurants/stalls were not to be missed.  

Anyway, this nice Canadian (from Montreal, maybe?) offered to help us order, and we ended up just joining their group.  It was one of the most entertaining evening I've ever had with complete strangers - half of whom didn't speak the same language as me.  We ordered way too much food, all of which was delicious, had way too much to drink (is the refrain of this entire trip) and eventually parted ways with our new acquaintances and stumbled back to the hotel.  

We had an early van to catch.  A 4-5 hour van ride later, after a short stop at this lovely place for a bathroom break:

Hee! I'd forgotten the van was a Vanzella.  Pretty comfortable, too.  

Quite a ways out from Campo Grande, one began to see this:

For miles, on either side of the highway, tiny shacks made out of whatever was available - tarps, bits of old wood, cardboard.  I remember seeing some with cars parked near them.  In Rio there are favelas (slums) right next to the high class ritzy areas.  The divide between rich and poor is wide, high and long.  It's caused unrest in the country in the past couple of months.  

What was especially odd was that some of the tarp shacks on the side of  the highway had  cars parked near them.  Residents? Visitors? Workers? I do not know.  

That car looks like it belongs in that spot, no?

And I ramble around in 4000 square feet. By myself. Plus heated comfort for my car.

I felt uncomfortable as we were driving by these shacks on the side of the road, and I feel the same way now. 

I don't know what to do with that.

 

so then this rat tried to kill me....

So when I left off, we were in a taxi, headed back to the Muito Bonito.  This would have been early afternoon, and we were hungry.  We asked Pamela, our trusty concierge what our options were for the afternoon.  Val was headed home the next morning and we'd talked about going to one of the pools or floating places for the afternoon. You know, to experience more of the wonders of Bonito.

That would have meant more organizing and figuring out where to go, and frankly, we were simply hungry and needed something to eat.  So we walked down the main street of Bonito in search of something that was open.  Harder than you'd think - during the day most tourists are off swimming in pools, hiking through caves and floating down rivers.  So there wasn't really a lot of action happening in Bonito in the early afternoon.

We soon found ourselves in front of this place:

Pantanal exotic meats.  They served all sorts of odd meats, namely caiman, queixada (wild pig) and capybara. 

Yep. That overgrown rodent rat thing? They served it.  

We  ordered some beer:

Beer in Brazil comes in larger bottles than Canada, but you get teeny little glasses to fill with that beer.  They (quite rightly) believe beer is best cold. So they bring you beer in giant beer cozies, like the one in the picture above.  The teeny glasses make you think you're not drinking as much and suddenly the giant bottle is empty and you have to get another... good marketing strategy, really.

We ordered several large bottles of beer. Plus our food:

These are the caiman bites (tasted like chicken!)

 Val ordered the capybara

I ordered the quexiada - with the proviso that we'd share so we could both be grossed out by what we were eating.

The things that look like french fries on those plates are actually fried cassava.  Kinda like a french fry. Tasty.  All meals in Brazil seem to come with rice and beans.  This one came with rice:

The stuff on the left was a kind of powdery flour type stuff. I think it might have been a tapioca flour?  Usually you'd have beans as well.  Carbs? Are big in Brazil.  

The food was actually pretty good.  The wild pig tasted like wild pig, the caiman tasted like chicken, the rice tasted like rice.  The capybara? Well, I've never eaten rat so I can't say for sure, but damn if that didn't taste like a rat looks.  

As you may recall, I'd had major surgery on my neck 3 weeks before this meal.  The scar was healing beautifully, I was remembering to take my meds (including the malaria pills) and I felt pretty decent, all things considered.  Tired a lot, a bit flakey, but nothing too bad.

Biggest side effect at the time was with eating.  Sometimes I just couldn't swallow.  I'd had a few close calls, or what felt like close calls.  Until this meal.

That damn rat tried to kill me.  You know how the universal sign for choking is placing you hands on your throat?  

It's completely involuntary - when you're choking, that's just what you do.  Val leaped up as I gagged, wheezed and struggled for breath and attempted the heimlich.  Just as she grabbed me I managed to cough out the offending bit of rat.

I've never been so happy to be breathing.  The restaurant staff were clustered around us, and while I should have maybe felt embarassed - I did not.  That was just plain scary and I was really careful to chew a lot more after that.  

In my defense, who wants to chew on what is basically a giant rat?  I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and face and returned to my meal.

I did not eat any more of the rat.  Neither did Val.  We did redouble our efforts at regaining our buzz.

When we left the restaurant we were ... sideways.  I took this photo:

I think that phone booth is naturally crooked but it sums up how we felt.  We made our way back to Muito Bonito in the blazing heat, giggling the whole way. Taking breaks whenever it all seemed too much.

It was a good walk.

When we got back to the pousada I think I sorted out my suitcase. Val was taking my carryon home, and I needed to figure out what I wanted to send home.  After that was accomplished, I dragged myself out to the hammock and spent a memorable afternoon sleeping/reading/watching the clouds and the people go by.

It was sublime.  A good day. Especially since the rat didn't get me.

***

Later that afternoon/evening a van showed up with our friends.  This time we were the pickled ones welcoming them.  

Since it was Val's last night, we decided to go for supper.  Our SK friends had already left for dinner and their restaurant choice was not our cup of tea - so Val, Airell and I went to what looked like a western style restaurant like you'd see in Alberta.  I think one of the SK people might have joined us after we sat down.  Airell kept trying to speak portuguese, guided by the phrase book.  It was hilarious.

The serving staff were mostly patient with his fumbling attempts.  It was a good night and I think we probably drank too much again because I can't recall what we might have done afterward.  Maybe did some trip planning? Just fell into bed?  Val had an early van to catch (on a 43 hour journey home) and the SKs and Airell were doing the blue lake cave tour early the next morning.

I could have slept in but it seemed wrong - so I got up early to wave Val off on that stupidly long trip home (I was really happy that I wasn't going with her, but damn, I knew I'd miss her too).  

She looks so happy as she heads off on the never-ending journey. Heh.  Here you can see the corner of a hammock, the table where you ate breakfast and got the best wifi signal.

I waved off the SKs and Airell, and then settled back into a hammock after a leisurely breakfast.  At some point I got a text from Airell asking me if a) I would be willing to stay in Bonito to visit a site that only allows entry to 18 people per day and b) if I could find out if there was space on the next days tour.  

I was willing, and I checked with Pamela, concierge extraordinaire.  Someone had cancelled, so we were in.  

The SKs returned from the Blue Lake Cave and shortly after we all left for the Rio da Prata tour.  The thing with the rivers in the Bonito area - they are so clear you can't really describe the clarity. Clear isn't a good enough word.  When we arrived at the interpretive Centre we were assigned a wetsuit (charming), fins and a snorkel.  You could rent a waterproof camera to take pictures of the fish, so Airell and I did that.  I'd love to share pictures but I still don't have them.

I knew I should have loaded those pictures (and the rest on Airell's cameras) onto my laptop before we left Brazil.   Live and learn.

Anyway.  The tour works like this - you get a wetsuit, then you get on another open air truck and drive out to the river - but not right up to the river.  First you do a nature walk through the forest.  They claim you could see wildlife - but so many people go through there we didn't see any wildlife.

Other than ourselves, of course.

When you got to the river you were given a brief lesson in snorkeling, and the rules of the river.  You aren't allowed to touch the bottom once you leave the 'training' area so we all practiced floating.  I must say I was thankful I'd gotten my scuba cert. 7 months earlier so I was ok with the snorkel.  Before the scuba cert. I'd have probably freaked out with the snorkel otherwise - having never snorkeled in my life.  

When we all had figured out the whole snorkel/float thing, we set off down the river.  You didn't need to do any work - you just stuck your head in the water and let yourself float.  The water wasn't cold - you didn't need the wetsuit to stay warm so much as it kept you afloat as you went down the river. 

I think you floated for a couple kilometers, at least.  There was one point where you need to get out and portage over some rapids and then back in the river to float to the spot where a truck picks you up again.

A charming meal back at the interpretive centre, we downloaded the photos I do not have possession of and I took some pictures with my own camera:

 

That shelter right there is my idea of heaven on earth. A hammock, some shade, and something to eat/drink nearby.  Perfection.

Apparently I felt the wooden structure full of birds was worth photographing.  It was pretty cool, but much cooler in person.

On the way back to the Muito Bonito we stopped at the place where you have to train for the tour we were doing the next day - turns out we were too early so we went back to the pousada.  Might have eaten something?  Then we walked back to the tour place to practice rapelling and climbing. Plus pay lots of money to go here

I cannot tell a lie, as I watched the other people climbing up the rope using the fancy harness... thingie, I was reconsidering the wisdom of doing this.  After trying it myself, and basically wearing myself out, I was still rather unconvinced but determined.  

Abismo Anhumas allows 18 visitors per day.  4 certified scuba divers can dive in the lake at the bottom of the cave; the other 14 are limited to a snorkeling session around the lake.  We'd signed up for the scuba version so after we did the training and Airell, bless his soul, tried to talk me out of doing the excursion since it had clearly worn me out we had to find the dive shop.  In the dark, without directions.  We eventually asked for help from another dive shop and they got us to the right spot.

I'd left my dive card in the hotel safe in Salvador.  At least, I think that's where I lost it.  I was prepared to show the dive masters proof of my certification on the internet - but oddly they never asked.  

In retrospect, this was probably a bad idea.  On the other hand, I could demonstrate I knew what I was doing so.... I dunno.  When I went to get a replacement card from my local dive shop I told them the story and they were.... concerned.  

Spoiler: Airell and I both lived so despite that weirdness, it was ok.  

Since we were diving, and mostly responsible, we didn't do any drinking that evening.  It was the SKs last night in Bonito, they were catching the super-early van the next morning so we might have gone for dinner? Sat at the breakfast table and chatted?  

I do not recall.  It was a good night.

The next morning we waved off the SKs, they wished us well and we planned to meet up in a day or so at our next stop.  

I have dozens of pictures of the cave.  I think I tweeted simply 'no words' with a link to a picture or the tour website.  Really. There are no words.  I made it into the cave (pretty easy to descend).  The dive was awesome.  Again, there are pictures from a camera we rented in town (from the dive shop/tour place that gave us directions) but I? Do not have those pictures. I am, oddly enough, facebook friends with the young lady that rented us the camera.  Since she had Airell's name (and he smiled in her general direction) she searched for him, then found me through him and I thought that was just so random I accepted the friend request.  I see stuff on my timeline every now and again from her.  That's my weirdest Brazil souvenir, hands down.

Really. This picture does not begin to do the cave justice.  Pictures of this cave are used really often in promotional materials for Bonito.  I needed help to get out of the cave (it's a 72 m climb out) since I could only manage about 1/3 of the climb.   I did not feel bad about it then, I do not feel bad about it now.  If ever I needed to play a cancer card, it was at that moment.  

I'd do it again.  

They have a log book that they let people sign when they get out of the cave.  

I was not going to sign it - after all, I didn't get out of the cave under my own power (and I think I kicked Airell in the head repeatedly as we were climbing) but bless those nice guides, they told me to sign it.

So I did.

Bonito

Ahh, Bonito.  I'd never heard of Bonito before I got to Brazil, and I cannot recall if I read about it first on the Saskatchewan itinerary or in a guidebook giving me hints about visiting the Pantanal.

So. Bonito.  The town is not the thing here, it's the rivers, caves and waterfalls.  Bonito is FAR from anywhere.  Once you get to Bonito, you have to get transport out to the things you want to go see.  And what can you see?

Heavens.  So many things to see.  I'll point you at the Frommer's guide to Bonito.  Now as you may recall, Val and I left for Bonito ahead of the rest of the group.  We'd booked a room at the Pousada Muito Bonito.

This is just a cool toucan from the Santa Clara. Random, but I came across it while looking for my picture of the Muito Bonito. I also found a sunset taken on the drive from the Santa Clara to Bonito:

Pretty, no?  

Anyway, the Muito Bonito:

I can't tell you how much I miss that place.  I wish I'd captured the building that was to the left of me as I took this picture.  That's where the breakfast was served, where the hammocks were strung and where Pamela, the owner's daughter managed all the tours you wanted to take.  I think it was $45Reis per night, a steal at twice the price.  Fancy it was not.  

It was clean, the bed was reasonably comfortable and the fruit selection for breakfast was amazing. The hammocks. Oh sweet heaven, the hammocks.  I'd become acquainted with the hammocks at the Santa Clara, but here, at the Muito Bonito, I truly became a fan of the hammock.  Hours I spent there. Sleeping, reading, or waching the clouds and the people go by.  

Spoiler: There may be a hammock going on my new deck. 

Am a little homesick for those hammocks.

Val and I arrived at the Muito Bonito fairly late in the evening. We checked in and might have made some arrangements for a tour in the morning.  I know we were hungry so we headed out to see what we could find to eat.  There was a gas station just down the street, it might have served food but that really wasn't on our list of things to do in Brazil.  

We wandered down the street and eventually came across a little shop that had no beer, no pictures and no English menus.  We worked the phrase book and eventually ordered 2 of whatever it was they were selling.  

The shop owner seemed a bit surprised that we only wanted 2. I think they cost about $2Reis  We thought it prudent. We weren't sure what we would be getting, other than the canned pop we'd ordered.  There was a scattering of tables just outside the shop so we parked ourselves out there while we waited for our dinner.

Turns out we got a pastry type thing that I would most accurately compare to a pizza pocket. Except it was about the size of a perogy. No wonder the shop owner thought we were weird for wanting only 2 of them.  We later saw people ordering 10 or 20 at a time.

We did order more - different flavours and were quite proud of ourselves.  Then a quick walk back to our pousada and off to bed.  

The next morning, we'd booked a tour to the Gruta do Lago Azul.  I think the best translation would be Blue Lake Cave.  Frommers will tell you it is the most popular spot and is always busy.  They are right.  About it being busy, anyway.  They start tours every 15 minutes throughout the day, but the hours, if memory serves, are kind of weird.  Regardless, Val and I got in a taxi that trundled us out into the back country (about 20-30 minutes) away from the town of Bonito.  We went through cattle country and up into the mountains.  The drive was actually pretty interesting.

Once we arrived, we had to wait for our tour to start.  Most of the signage was translated into English, which was nice.  I wanted to order a beer (it was hot, I was on vacation, etc) but they wouldn't allow me to purchase one before the tour.  It wasn't safe since the steps were steep and slippery.  

Alrighty then.  So I had some kind of pop - maybe even Guarana, the ubiquitous beverage that I hated at first.  Then our guide collected us and pointed us in the direction of the hairnets and hardhats you're required to wear.

Because I care, and heaven knows there aren't enough pictures of me looking like an idiot on the internet, here you go:

I think I kept that photo because it is a rare selfie in which I do not look like I am near something that smells or I am flummoxed by the camera in my hand.  This would have been a better picture if security had not taken away my extender stick thingie.  

As we were about to set off, we learned that our guide did not speak English.  

We were disappointed.  We did not throw a fit (although I wanted to) but considered not going on the tour.  I don't recall who talked who into carrying on with the tour, but carry on we did.  The guide promised to do his best with the English.  We were with a group of middle-aged Brazilian men - we stuck out like sore thumbs.  

You have to hike a short path up to the entrance of the cave, maybe a 5 minute walk? A couple hundred feet up the path our guide stopped near a tree on the side of the path and began telling a story to the men in our group. 

Here's the thing.  They say Rosetta stone will help you learn a language because it mimics the way your brain works.  That may be true, I've never used Rosetta Stone.  

I'll tell you what does work, and many experts will agree with me.  Immersion.  Go somewhere and immerse yourself in the language.  It is astonishing how quickly you can pick up enough words to get by - so long as you are aware of your surroundings.  Some might call that context.  

Regardless, this was the 17th of August.  We'd been in Brazil since August 4, nearly 2 weeks.  We'd picked up some words (besides cerveja and por favor traga a conte?) and some numbers. Val became obsessed with the portuguese word for fire - in our hotel in Salvador we'd sometimes get random people banging on our door and yelling through the door.  I assumed it was someone with the wrong room; Val was convinced we were going to die.

I was still in the 'will this cancer be the nasty kill you pretty soon' state of mind so I figured I'd just pray it would be quick.  Anyway.  Val had looked up the word for fire.  I could not possibly tell you what it was at this moment. Feel free to google.  I had become obsessed with learning numbers in portuguese.  I still have most of them, but I get them mixed up with spanish (side note: is awesome to know spanish numbers when shopping in Mexico) since they are so similar. 

So, to recap, Val and I and the rest of the tour group were standing in front of this tree.  The guide explained what had happened to the tree and Val and I just practiced listening for words we might know.  Damned if we didn't figure out that 25 years before there'd been a forest fire, and the tree in front of us (with scorch marks on it still) had mostly survived.  We were pretty damn proud of ourselves at this point, and then the guide turned to us.  In broken English (he did pretty well) he began explaining the tree again.  

I stopped him and said, '25 years ago there was a forest fire in this area, and this tree was left.'

He stared at me in disbelief.  We'd just claimed to not speak portuguese and here we completely understand the key points of the story he'd just told the men.  

Context is key people.  Val got the fire part, I got the numbers part, and voila.  We knew the story. The burnt tree helped quite a bit.  

So we carried on to the cave.  It's lovely.  At the bottom of the cave is this amazingly blue lake.  There are stalagmites and stalacties everywhere.  You walk down the stone steps carved into the cave to a viewing point at the bottom - about 100 metres.  You can't help but be mesmerized by the blue water - in summer the sun hits the cave and is supposed to make the water even more blue.  

I cannot recall why it is blue.  Angle of the sun? Stuf in the water? Does it matter?  It's just pretty.

Hard not to be distracted by that view.  

You can't see the lake very well in this crappy picture, but the look on Val's face just slays me.  SHe was thinking about having to climb all the way back out.  Which, as always, was way easier than going down.  We took our time and it was all good.  I have more pictures of the blue lake but they upload so slowly I won't keep adding.

When we got back to the interpretive centre I had my beer (yay!) and then our taxi driver trundled us back into town.  

I can't believe I didn't even get through an entire day this time.  The picture uploading is taking too long.  On the bright side, I'm remembering lots of stuff while I'm waiting for them to load so....

more words for me to read again one day!

Hello, pretty bird

So.  Santa Clara Eco-Lodge.  Pousada, as the Brazilians call it. In all honesty, I would never have chosen this place on my own.  That has nothing to do with the Santa Clara and everything to do with my haphazard 'am I going? am I not going?' planning approach to Brazil.  I didn't make any concrete plans in case I couldn't go and then be all disappointed and irritated with cancer all over again.  

(Side note: having just returned to a reasonable facsimile of full health, I am blown away by how intrinsically stupid I was to bugger off to Brazil when I was so legitimately ill. It wasn't dangerous, just kinda stupid. BUT SO WORTH IT).

 So the way Santa Clara works is you book the length of your stay (Val and I were there 2 nights, 2 days) and then they fit the activities into that timeframe.  Our friends were staying for 3 nights, 4 daysish so they had an extended version of the tours.

So what did we get to do?  Well, I mentioned last time that our friends had been partaking of the bead necklace caiphirinias.  They all seemed really happy to see us, which was gratifying until Val and I were able to do the sidelong glance to confirm that yes, their happiness was enhanced by cachaca.  Whatever, I'll take it.  We checked in, I paid for internet access (which the rest of the group then stole thanks to Airell) and Val and I set about eating dinner and starting work on our bead necklaces.  

(To recap: they didn't deal with cash for drinks at the pousada, so they sold you a bead necklace that came apart so you could trade beads for drinks. Clever).

So pretty there.  It was at the Santa Clara that we first got up close to wildlife.  The Pantanal is known for birds and creatures of all kinds.  It's wetlands during part of the year, when we were there it was the dry season.  That means that all the animals tend to travel to the water so you're more likely to see some cool animals.  

That tree was just outside my room.  A toucan! There was another toucan that just wandered the patio area of the pousada.  That giant beak is amazing to see up close.

I'll never forget the sight of a giant tree full of macaws. Hundreds of macaws. Just hanging out. As you do, when you're a macaw.  We (except for one friend from Saskatchewan, who was far too hungover to join us) did a boat ride down the river the first morning.

We kept seeing otter type creatures on the river, but I never quite captured a good image of one.  

We also saw the largest rodent type creature in the world, the capybara, while on the river cruise.  Looks a lot like the rodents of unusual size (ROUS), no?

That afternoon we did a fishing trip down the river for piranha!  I caught more than one, and I think someone (Airell? Val? etc?) may have taken a picture but I? Do not have that picture.  There were a bunch of caiman (south american version of alligators) near the boat launch.  You could walk right up to them and take a picture.  See!

Note my jaunty, wildly colored scarf.

For supper we had.... piranha!!  The river water there was opaque with mud (wish I had pictures) and frankly the piranha tasted like the river looked. I wouldn't recommend it.  Creepy looking fish, too.

That evening we got to go on a nighttime safari, looking for wildlife at night.  That's when we met the glowing red eyes of the caiman at night.  We'd stop at watering holes and the guides would shine a light at the water and there would be thousands of red glowing eyes in the darkness.

Creepy. Awesome, but creepy.  

That night I canceled my original flight home (which was booked for August 18) and set about booking a new flight home.  This was.... interesting.  I needed to talk to a person to cancel the flight and there were no phones where I was and the internet service was... almost sufficient.  Skype and Google talk almost worked. Almost.  I ended up sitting under a tree next to the pool while shouting into my laptop screen.

Adding to the crazy was trying to link up flights home with Airell.  He couldn't quite make up his mind and we only had one laptop (mine, thank heavens I'd brought it to create my presentation).

Spoiler: after a couple hours we got it all sorted.  We were staying in Brazil til September 2.  I was excited and exhausted. I think I might have gone and worked on my necklace a bit more. 

A day or so later, I finally bit the bullet and sent my boss email letting him know I was taking a couple extra weeks of vacation. Coward! Party of One! Named Brenda! I don't know why I was concerned, because my boss was fine with it.  I wasn't in any shape to be working anyway. 

It was while we were here that I was introduced to the weird phenomenon of the Brazilian shower.  Quite often you'd find an on-demand system.  We didn't realize this at the time, but the heaters can't warm a lot of water at a time - it works great as long as you're happy with just a trickle of water.  NOONE TELLS YOU THIS.  We didn't learn how the showers really worked until we went back to Iguassu a week later and the kind hostel owner there filled us in.

So anyway, as I was traipsing through my pictures to remember what we'd done, I found a picture of our shower at the Santa Clara.

Note the white thingie that is the shower head. Note the wires coming out of the wall connecting the showerhead to the electricity that heats the water.

More than one of us complained of slight electrical shocks in that shower.  YOU THINK???? This was actually pretty good. Some of the showers I used later weren't far off bare wires coming out of the wall.  

The next day Val and I were scheduled to leave for Bonito just after lunch.  First off though, we were going for a wildlife hike.  We were told to bring enough water for a day in the wilderness.  It was winter, but still hot.  We saw monkeys in the trees, and other random animals, but really, not that many.  The hike was far through some pretty country.  I couldn't tell you quite how far, but in the hot, hot sun - for Val, it got dangerous.  She'd brought water but not enough.  By the time we got back to the little shack in the pasture, she'd stopped sweating and looked terrible.  I gave her the rest of my water and begged some more from the catering staff.  I felt sorry for the rest of our group, they were going on a truck safari that afternoon while Val and I were off to Bonito.  I was hot and sweaty after our hike through the wilderness, I couldn't imagine the rest of the afternoon in the sun.

(I heard later that it wasn't that bad, and they'd all enjoyed it. I dunno. I quite enjoyed the swim I took in the pool when we got back to the pousada and I think they were all just jealous).  

Val made friends with a macaw while we waited for the truck.

I tried to make friends with this macaw and it bit me.  

We also saw the most amazing thing I've ever seen a bird do.  Behold:

Yes. This clever bird had been given a cookie, it was too hard to eat, so he flew over to the sink, turned it on, and dunked his cookie in the water.  If I didn't have the pictures I wouldn't believe it either. 

Val and I had time for lunch, finish the rest of our beads and that swim and then.... off on the back of yet another truck to the wide spot in the road where prisoner exchanges passenger dropoffs/pickups happen.  

We were early.  

I took pictures.

We were dropped off near those trees in the left hand side of the picture, the bit between the pole on the truck and the edge of the picture.  The piles of luggage on the side of that road were ridiculous and the people we were with were fascinating. Lawyers, doctors that had chucked in their jobs or were about to start their jobs (in Europe) but were taking the time to see the world. There was a teeny tiny you must be kidding me little shack that served beer and food in packets. We waited for about an hour.  Then we boarded a van for the 4-5 hours trip to Bonito.  

Bonito is portuguese for beautiful.  

It was.

in lieu of sleeping

Am proud to be reporting to you live from my corner of the internet.  I got home from San Diego last night to a family exhausted from moving all the things from the home of my youth (possession was meant to transfer today) to the farm a mile down the road from my house. I really mean ALL the things. Scrap metal. Bits of junk. Is ridiculous and I am refusing to help because a) am asshole and b) I only want to move that crap once.  Just sayin'.

I fed my parents wine from the box o'wine (was good I didn't finish it myself but brought it home for them) and gave out the random chocolate bars I bought at the airport.  I didn't go home til midnight and managed hardly any sleep (is my new refrain! I do not sleep! Ever!) before I had to be up at stupid o'clock to sit and wait to start working at less stupid o'clock.  For the record, if you're doing a thing and ask people to help, don't tell people to show up half an hour early.  Some of us show up early for the time you tell us to be there, because we are responsible people, and then get annoyed by having to sit and wait to actually begin the work a half hour later than you told them to be there.

ANNOYING.

Also, noted. I shan't show up so early next time.

(Who am I kidding. I will probably show up even earlier. It is my way).

I shall now return to my 'Brenda went to Brazil and just won't shut up about it already' chronicles. I think I am all the way up to August 12, 2012. (Fair warning: I stayed there until September 2).  Also, this travel log has very little to do with readers, and everything to do with me. This is the point of blogging.  (Although 'tis lovely to have people read and make nice comments. Is good for ego).  

***

So I remembered what we did on Sunday in Rio.  There's a Hippie Fair in Ipanema every Sunday and Val and I decided to find it.  Using public transport.  THAT was interesting.  Neither of us are really public transport people at the best of times, but some judicious googling and the phrasebook got us to the hippie fair using only my sense of direction and the Rio subway. (Note: eventually became very good at the Rio subway).

I found a place that would sell me a cup of tea.  We bought earrings. T-shirts. I can't even remember what all I bought.  Is not important and I sent it home with Val a week later.

So, to catch up my catch up, we got on a mid-morning flight to Iguassu Falls on Monday morning, August 13.  This got us to Iguassu after lunchtime.  We had a ridiculous time getting a hotel, as detailed last time.  We finally got ourselves settled in a room and hooked up with an overpriced taxi driver to take us the 10 minutes to the Brazilian national park.  

Iguassu Falls is on the border of Argentina and Brazil.  Go a little further down river and you're bordering Paraguay as well.  The guidebook warned us that a one day trip was INSANE.

A couple hour trip was blibbering-idiot-nincompoop-talks-to-the-wild-orange-trees-on-the-jungle-tour-batshit-crazy-INSANE.  

It was what we had, though, so we made it work.  

What can I tell you about Iguassu Falls? 

Amazing. Incredible. If only I had a picture! We had no pictures because Val and I decided to do a boat ride up the river and were afraid to get our digital cameras wet.  If only I'd gotten the waterproof bag thingie for digital cameras before Brazil!  The same one I looked at multiple times in multiple REIs in multiple states in the USA.

Actually, now that I think about it, I am lying and I need to talk to Val - we bought a DVD with video and pictures from the boat ride up the river.   We also bought a waterproof camera that is still sitting on a shelf in my bedroom.  I should get that developed.

Anyway. At the moment, no pictures for you.  There's a bus that takes you from the park gate up to the falls and it seems like it goes on forever.  You can get off about 1km back from the falls and hike up to the main viewpoints of the falls.  We did not do that (since we had little time. Oh how things will change and yet stay the same with my next visit to the falls. Because: foreshadowing. I was already in talks to extend my stay in Brazil at this point and I had a feeling that would mean a return to the falls).  

The boat ride was this one and was awesome.  The main point of this boat ride is to soak the passengers. The tour people literally stop the boat and suit up head to toe in rain gear before approaching the falls - so you will get wet. This is important, because while Val and I may have had only a few hours at the falls  they also happened to be rather chilly hours at the falls.  And we spent an hour eating at the restaurant at the top of the Brazilian side.

I haven't said a lot about the falls themselves. Someone famous, maybe Eleanor Roosevelt? has been quoted as saying, 'Poor Niagara' when she saw Iguassu.

I tell you what. I've seen Niagara many, many times and was always impressed.  

Poor Niagara Indeed.  It's got nothing on Iguassu.  Not least of which is that it is in a national park, so it is protected from the crassness that is Niagara today.  From the Brazilian park you get the sense of the scale of the falls.  Wikipedia reminds me that there are about 3km of waterfalls, with rocks and islands and greenery everywhere.  It's breathtaking.  It's awe inspiring - from the top of the cliff in the restaurant on the Brazilian side, from the view a couple hundred feet below on a viewing platform, from the jet boat tour that completely soaks you.  Amazing.  I think Val and I both were blown away by what we were experiencing.  

And yet, foreshadowing: completely different than the experience on the Argentinian side.  

We were one of the last to leave the Brazilian park that night, having frozen our stupid asses off since we were still damp from the jet boat  - the bus to the gate is open-air.  Iguassu can be quite cool in winter, being sub-tropical, or whatever the technical term is.  Our overpriced taxi driver was waiting for us, as promised, which was good because the joint was deserted. 

Val and I had bought the aforementioned DVD, and the Safari people had promised to drop it at our hotel that evening.  Our hotel was a tourist trap, big, creepy, stuck in the 50s, possibly once a convent or something similarly unsuitable for reprobates like the two of us, and had the weirdest restaurant ever.

We were not in walking distance to another place to eat, so we ate in the hotel.  They had a choice between buffet (we were getting heartily sick of buffets and kilo restaurants by this point (side note: kilo restaurants are buffets where you pay for your food by weight (of the food you pick, not your weight, heh))) and off the menu.  Since the menu referred to something with golf sauce and Chicken Gordon Blue, we figured we'd try the buffet.  Plus copious amounts of beer in the inevitably large bottles with the inevitably efficient cozies to keep the beer cold.  (Have picture of this, will share at later date). 

There were about 7 attendants in the restaurant but only one person who actually interacted with the diners.  He did not speak English, which was fine, we communicated via phrase book and pointing at the menu.  Cerveja goes a long way.  The other staff appeared to be there to watch the diners, and move spoons on the buffet whenever someone dared help themself to the buffet. For which they'd paid.

All in all, weird.  Plus expensive.  

We crawled off to bed, not too drunk tonight since we had a flight at STUPIDEST O'CLOCK.  See, we were planning to meet up with our poultry friends from Saskatchewan (they of the amazingly detailed itinerary) and Airell at an eco-lodge in the Pantanal.  When I was booking the flights it was the late afternoon of the day we were leaving for Brazil (almost a year to the day that I am writing this now!) and I was not at my best AND I was trying to fit in a lot of stuff in the 2 weeks I originally planned to stay in Brazil. See: See Iguassu Falls in 3 hours!

Anyway. Remember how we'd ordered a DVD? That was to be delivered to our hotel.

Yeah. We remembered that right around the time we were almost to the airport.  So we got to go back to the weird hotel and then go back to the airport.

This doubled our taxi fare and we learned how dark Iguassu is at 5:30 in the morning.  

There followed what I thought was the longest, craziest day of travel in the history of travel. (Foreshadowing: So very, very, wrong about that). We left Iguassu at 7am on a flight bound for Campo Grande by way of Curitiba and Brasilia.

That's kinda like getting to Edmonton from Lethbridge by way of Calgary, Regina and Saskatoon. Here's the thing with this Eco-lodge thing. I didn't find it.  A lovely lady in Saskatchewan researched and found it and was kind enough to pass on their travel info to Airell, who passed it on to me.  I was unsure about the whole 'dormitory' aspect of the lodge, but... since we were booked to Campo Grande, dammit, we had to stay somewhere and really, how bad could it be? (Answer: Santa Clara was very nice). 

Val was somewhat nonplussed at our journey into the Pantanal.  We didn't plan any of it very far in advance.  I basically allowed enough time to send an email and hope a person saw it before our plane landed the next day. (Stupid? Yes. Did it work? Yes, mostly. We were never homeless. For long).  So, Santa Clara Eco-Lodge.  

You fly into Campo Grande to get to the part of the Pantanal we were visiting. I'd emailed with a guy named Alexandre of the Santa Clara, and he promised to meet us at the airport in Campo Grande.  

While waiting for our flight in Brasilia, we had the chance to collect some more Reis - we were headed to nowhere, with no cell service, and it seemed wise to have some cash.  Not all ATMs accept a Canadian debit card, and I know this because I tried just about all of them.  AND. There were no ATMs within the security section, so I left my bags with Val and went out in search of a working ATM.  I took a large amount of cash, bought some ice cream and then sent Val back out once I'd gone through security again.

Good times.  Good ice cream, too.  

When we finally arrived in hot, dusty, walk under the wings of the plane wherever the hell you want Campo Grande (also, they allow cell phone use on some planes in Brazil. HOW WEIRD IS THAT????) Behold, Alexandre, my email penpal of mere days, was there. With my name on a sign. (This kind of freaked Val out, the first of many things for her to freak out about). Alex was in quite a hurry, since he wanted us to catch a public bus that would carry us the 5 hours to the eco-lodge from Campo Grande not far behind our friends.  Then he forgot his day planner in a luggage cart, and we had to turn around and go back and get it. Our chauffeur was a charming young lady that did not speak English (pretty common in those parts) who taught us a number of portuguese idioms  related to road rage.   All of which I've forgotten, more's the pity.

We went to the EcoLodge office at the public bus station and paid Alexandre a crap-ton of money for the next few days. This included food, lodging and activities but not the transportation to the lodge. Then he decided we wouldn't catch the public bus, and instead, we should wait a couple of hours at their hostel in Campo Grande and catch the 4pm van that would take us to the Santa Clara. Or, more accurately, within half an hour of the Santa Clara. We'd be met by another truck eventually.  

Alrighty. We reloaded ourselves and our stuff in the little red hatchback and went careening off to the hostel.  This time we learned bizzotch! or similar from our driver. 

We got to the hostel and learned from the staff there that our friends had spent the night there.  I think Val felt better.

We had a couple of options for what to do while we waited.  I plugged in my kindle - we had a 4-5 hour van ride ahead and my battery was waning.  The staff waved an arm rather dismissively in the direction of a local grocery store so we could get something to eat (this was mid-afternoon and we hadn't eaten more than ice cream and some fancy nuts while waiting for our connecting flight in Brasilia) - so Val and I set off for something to eat.  I think we bought buns? Cheese? Doritos and cokes? Does it matter? 

Not at all.  (If anyone actually makes it this far other than me, I will be shocked).  

Once back from the grocery we settled ourselves on the porch and saw our first exotic birds. Well. Val did.  I was napping (which is not a thing I do, ever. Until they took out my thyroid and I went to Brazil).  The van showed up eventually, we paid the man in cash and then set off to collect the rest of the riders from a variety of places around Campo Grande.  

Then off into the sunset, and the land where cell phones no longer worked.  I sent a final tweet/text to confirm our continued life and requests for search parties if I didn't surface within a few days and then we were off into the sunset.  We stopped about halfway through the trip for a bathroom break (you could also buy a stuffed piranha!) and after what seemed like forever - we arrived where we were to meet a truck/van that would take us to the Santa Clara.

It was basically a widening in the road at the gates to the national park.  I didn't notice this at the time, but it was guarded by men with guns just down the road a ways from where we stopped. Val saw this, I did not.  When the open-air truck showed up that would take us to the Lodge, I think Val died a little inside.  We were in the middle of nowhere, we'd followed a man with my name on a sign at the airport, random car trip to a bus station, then a random house, then a walk to the grocery store and long weird van ride with complete strangers to be dropped at a widening in the road with men with guns not very far away was all a bit much.

Because then we're riding on the back of a truck? She was not so much ok with this. I dunno.  It all seemed normal to me, and they knew the names of our friends, so at least we'd be with people we knew as we died? 

I may have mentioned this, but I was not entirely right in the head at the time. I am also a more adventurous traveller than Val. So I've umm, done weird stuff like this before.  

Although this was a bit weirder than usual. Because that truck took off down a gravel road at about 50 miles an hour, in the dark, I was wearing shorts and it was freezing. I wrapped myself in my scarf to try to stay warm.  Some french people were sharing our ride and they apparently didn't believe in showering regularly, I was downwind of them and their jacket strings were flapping in the wind and more importantly, my face.  We had to slow down every mile or so to go over yet another bridge. The Pantanal is basically a giant wetland - so lots of bridges.

That was a long 30 minutes.

When we arrived we were met by a completely, utterly, totally pickled to the gills group of friends.  The Santa Clara included meals - but beverages were extra.  They sold you a bead necklace and you then paid for your drinks with beads.

Heh. That was funny.

Our friends? Had been through a few necklaces.  I've never seen some of them that drunk.

Cachaca. The drink that mixes up your brain like a blender.  One of them was too sick to go on the boat tour and the piranha fishing - but was okay for the night safari the next day.  

That's a story for another day.  

I will finish off by saying this.  The Pantanal at night? Absolutely no light pollution.  

I've lived in the country my whole life so I can see the stars better than most.  I get pretty good views of northern lights over the trees behind my house. 

I saw the milky way in its full glory for the first time in my life.  And it was completely breathtaking. I was transfixed, even as I clung to the back of the truck while trying to get a better view of that glorious sight,

That's while I never forget that crazy, stupid, please don't let me fall off the end, what the hell is going to happen next truck ride. Because I learned something completely unexpected. 

I truly didn't know  you could see the stars that way. I thought you needed a telescope or something special to see them.  Sometimes, you gotta go crazy to see things in a whole new light.  

Long time gone

Heavens. I never intended to let this much time pass before writing here again. Inertia.  It gets you. Or not. As the case may be.

I write to you today from a hotel that didn't exist in this spot this time last year.  I'm in Alpine, California, having come here from a conference in San Diego last week.  I can't put into words exactly how at home I feel in Southern California.  As I told a lot of people this week, I've been coming here for 30 years. (!) This is my second home.

I am torn about what to write about.  I could tell you about the box of wine I bought more than a week ago, thinking I'd make more progress on it than I have.  I've made good progress since checking in to the Viejas Casino Hotel. Am proud and embarassed about this.  

Guess I've told you all that is necessary about the box of wine.  I have time to finish it yet. I have faith in myself, and also, challenge accepted.

I could finish up my Brazil stories, a year removed from the memories.  I wandered through my posts from not quite a year ago, and I am shocked by how much I've forgotten.  I think it would behoove me to collect what I still remember in this corner of the internet.  I just need to pick up where I left off.  Which was, I think, just as Val and I were flitting off to Rio. For the weekend. As you do.

***

The night we were all in Val and I's hotel room, planning our first Friday in Brazil, we'd made a plan for taxis to carry us all in the directions we wanted to go.  Airell needed a taxi before the sparrows were farting to fly up to the amazon, Martin et al needed a taxi to take them to the turtles and golfing and Val and I needed to get to the airport at a time I cannot recall. Other than it was after everyone else needed to leave, we wisely had booked flights that left around noonish. Or 10am. Can't remember.  There was some sort of dilemma re: booking taxis that seemed important at the time but now seems ridiculous.  Spoiler: we all got to where we needed to be!

I remember it raining as we waited for our flight out of Salvador.  I remember reading the Rio parts of my guidebook without ceasing, trying to glean bits of stuff to do and stuff to avoid before I actually had to do or avoid anything.  Flight was easy, and I cannot lie, as we were landing I was looking for the Jesus statue.

I did not see the Jesus statue as we were landing.  I don't think I was even by the window, if I stop to think about it. When we were on the way to our destination, there was a silent but violent competition to be the first to find the Jesus statue. I think I won. But I would not swear to that in court. 

We waited for our bags.  As usual, mine was the last to arrive.  Val carried the bags, since that was her job.  I looked into taxis, paying ahead for a taxi at a kiosk in the airport. As my guidebook recommended.

I would not recommend this approach.  There are cheaper ways to get from the international airport in Rio to the fun bits of Rio (there are 2 airports in Rio) than paying in the terminal for a taxi to Copacabana beach. In our case, we were off to the Arenas hotel on Copacabana beach, the #3 hotel in Rio and our home for the next 2 nights.  I have to admit, my first view of Copacabana (but certainly not my last) was pretty awesome.  We checked in, and since I'd used my 'I have cancer' argument, we had a pretty sweet room.

WITH THE HARDEST DAMN MATTRESS IN THE HISTORY OF MATTRESSES EVER. Foreshadowing: I slept on really crappy, really awful, unbelievable 'I slept on that? Where do I get my tetanus shots, etc?' mattresses later for a fraction of the price and it was more comfortable.

The view though.  That was pretty awesome. (good time for a picture. I appear to have none of this view. Wait. I do!)

I'd say that view is worth a few dollars per night.  At least $200.  I honestly cannot recall what we did the rest of that Friday.  I do remember going down to the beach. I also remember trying out teh refreshments at a few of the beach huts. For purely scientific purposes, naturally.  Might have been an early night, because we were tired.  We might have booked a tour and an evening entertainment for the following night.  

Suffice it to say, the next day, August 11, 2012 saw us getting on the Express City Tour.  All the high points of Rio in less than 5 hours.  What did we see? Jesus, naturally.  A giant church. Sugarloaf. But not the Lapa steps.  Apparently you need the extended tour to see the steps. Alas, the steps were not to be (foreshadowing).  

Christo Redentor was pretty cool. It was a Saturday morning, so the viewing area was absolutely packed. Trying to get the iconic picture was pretty much impossible, so mine from this visit are off-kilter.

Which is actually a very good  illustration of the state of my mind at this time.  I did a geocache here. My first in Brazil!

Sugarloaf was amazing.  A ride up both mountains in the cable car takes mere moments.  That you're suspended over one of the most beautiful cities in the world is evident no matter which way you turn.

I think I fell in love with Rio at the top of that mountain.

Punicorn was similary impressed with Sugarloaf. And Rio.

We also got to see the stands where the Samba schools parade through during Carnival. For a small fee you could try on a costume and have your picture taken.

At the time it seemed ridiculous. Now, I wish I'd paid the 5 Reis.  Or whatever it was.  There aren't enough pictures of me looking like an idiot in this world. At least not yet.

Instead there is simply me looking like I need a shower (WHY DID I NOT SHOWER THAT MORNING???) in the place where the parade happens.

Note the scarf tied jauntily around my neck in the blazing heat. My surgeon had impressed upon me the importance of not allowing sun to touch the scar. Or it would look nasty until the end of my days.

I wore the scarf, feeling a fool.  Until that evening, when we went to a dinner and show.  The people we sat next to at dinner were a lovely couple, from Seattle, just heading to a job in Vancouver, just having left a job in New Zealand. He had family in Brazil.  She'd not been given the notice about not burning/tanning a scar and she had a doozy of a mess on her arm.  

I was suitably impressed, and didn't take the scarf off for at least a week and a half after that.  Sunscreen was my best friend.

After the tour Val and I had some time in hand, so we continued our scientific evaluation of the beach huts on Copacabana beach. Our hypothesis? Beer is cold at all Copacabana beach huts.

Hypothesis accepted. Beer is cold at all the beach huts we tried (n=7?)

Eventually we had to head back to the hotel, as we had an engagement.  And there was this store we wanted to visit.  It sold purses, wallets, bags, etc.  It was shiny and we thought it was cool.  I was slightly faster than Val so I made it to the store before she did.

I was wandering the store, feeling the pretty things and planning what I might buy when one of the clerks walked up to me with a shiny tray with a glass of juice upon it.  'How nice!' I thought aloud, and continued shopping. 

Eventually Val turned up and was amused by the pile of stuff I was accumulating to buy.  Suddenly I needed all the things.

The clerk brought out another 2 glasses of juice.  We each had one, and my pile grew ever larger.  I can't even begin to tell you what I bought, but I did buy a purse that looked just like Sugarloaf Mountain. 

As we made our way back to the hotel I was feeling pretty....good. Giddy. Spinny. Wheee! Purses for everyone!

That's when Val told me the 'juice' was actually a straight shot of cachaca.

SWEET HEAVENLY HEAVEN IN HIS HEAVEN. No wonder the world was spinning.

Foreshadowing: Not the last time cachaca made my head spin.  I think I napped on the hard mattress until it was time for our evening entertainment.  

I need to note that Aug 11 was the wedding date of the son of friends of my family.  I babysat the young man getting married that day.  I've vacationed with his parents and his aunt numerous times. My sister actually said to me, 'I can't believe you're missing a 'name' wedding for Brazil!'

I wonder what the hell happened to my sister.  There was a time she was leaving our area and never coming back.  Now she has three kids and I'm the one wandering the earth.  Ahhh, irony.  Apparently it's the most misused word around. (haha, geddit?)

Of course, the joke was on me.  We went, and paid good money for, the worst dancing show in the history of dancing shows.  I've been to inumerable all-inclusive vacation resorts with all-inclusive entertainment, with all-inclusive amateur dancing.

This was worse than all those shows put together. SO BAD. Drinks were extra, and expensive. Val and I had a picture taken with some of the dancers and I can honestly say we've never looked so bad.  All the 'free' cachaca in the world couldn't make up for the horror of this show.

The wedding? Definitely better than that stupid show.  But the other  4 weeks of time in Brazil more than made up it. Lesson learned - don't believe the concierge when he says it a show is a great show. He thinks it is great because he gets a bigger kickback from the company running the tour.  Ask where he actually goes to party if possible, and if possible, really don't stay in a fancy hotel on Copacabana Beach. Instead, stay in the worst hostel in the history of hostels and get advice on where to go from the creepy dude that runs the creepiest hostel in the history of hostels and have one of the best nights ever!(foreshadowing! OF events 2 weeks later! Will we ever reach those adventures???? Stay tuned!)

You know? I couldn't remember when we left Rio.  I thought it might be Sunday, but maybe it was Monday.  Problem. I cannot remember what we did on Sunday.  I have found pictures of the stand where you could get pizza in a cone (we did, and it was tasty) and I am sure we continued our scientific experiments (the street running in front of Copacabana beach are closed on Sundays for walkers, runners, strollers) but I cannot recall anything up until the time we were watching the closing ceremonies of the summer olympics on the roof of our hotel.  Here is the view:

It was basically awesome to be in the place where the next olympics would be while the closing ceremonies were on, with the presentation from Rio for the next olympics.

When the white guy tried to Samba, that was basically what I look like trying to samba without 4 caiphirinhias (spastic monkey on crack. I have great rhythm but I cannot compel my body to move in concert with the rhythm).  (I can also speak portuguese after that many caiphirinhias. Is a glorious coincidence). 

We were really pleased when we saw the sidewalks of Rio on the stage in London.  The ones that look like this:

Ahh, I feel homesick just looking at that picture.

We had to get up early to hop on a plane to Iguassu Falls. It was either on the plane or the way to the airport that Val read the bit in the travel guide about spending only 1 day at the falls.

About how it was insane.

Well, that fit my mental state so we were the idiots that went to Iguassu falls for a day.  Less than a day!  We had mere hours!!!  (Foreshadowing: I totally made up for this later). We'd been given a hotel recommendation from a trusted friend, and I'd tried to make a reservation at the same hotel but never received a return email.  When we showed up the hotel had no record of us, and it was so far from the falls that I could only think of how early we'd have to get up the next morning to catch our flight to Campo Grande. We had to be up at STUPIDER o'clock the next morning so... we didn't stay at that hotel.  We drove back towards the falls, asking our taxi driver for a recommendation.  

We ended up at the weirdest hotel I think I've ever stayed in.  It was stuck in the 50s, but I swear the staff believed they were totally up-to-date and awesome.  It was expensive, about $150 per night.

For the crappy beds and the creepy hallways, it was worth about $2.  Reis, not dollars. The bit in the menu about Chicken Gordon Blue? Almost worth the price.  Took me a while to figure that one out.

We hired a taxi to take us to the Brazilian national park, and then the true joy of the Falls began.  

I've blathered on enough for now though, so the next installment of Brenda goes to Brazil will have to sum up the falls.  There aren't enough words on the internet to sum up the falls, so... I'll just have to do my best.

If you've made it this far, I salute you.  I should buy you a Caipirinha! I have 2 bottles of Cachaca at my house.  Need some limes, some sugar and a glass. I even bought the thingie to crush the limes properly. Consider yourself invited. At least once the deck is built. For I?

AM BUILDING A DECK.

 

OK, full disclosure. The nice men from the Deck Company with the name i have forgotten will take all my money to build the nice deck for me. With the lights and the shiny bits and the no maintenance for 20 years materials.

Am excited about the deck.  Until next time.

all good (or not so good) things must end

You know, I just remembered something.  When Val and I left for Brazil, we had a very general plan of where we were going, what we would be doing the week after we left Salvador.  We had flights booked since it was cheaper to get the travel pass from Tam airlines and fly about than travelling by the seat of your pants and getting on a plane when and to where you felt like.  We'd booked the flights using an extremely detailed itinerary that Airell had gotten from a group in Saskatchewan. 

I? Am not so much with the detailed itinerary making myself.  I can sure as heck follow one, though. Eventually.  I like to wait til the last minute to book things, because usually there are more interesting things to do than make a decision about what flight to take and what hotel to stay in.  Even with an extremely detailed itinerary Val and I put off making plans until the last minute. 

Anyway. I'm getting ahead of myself.  Wednesday. Conference stuff over, and time to wander off to our hotel.

A view from the 4th floor of the conference centre:

We (Irene, Val and I) went back to the Bompreco, which was crazy full of people.  We ran into Airell and Cibele in the store - who wisely gave us their stuff to purchase since the lineups were that long.  That reminds me - I ended up paying for all the stuff because I was at the wrong damn end of the line-up - AGAIN - and I don't think any of them ever paid me back.  

How exactly did I become my mother, and so quickly, even to the paying for things in stores and restaurants?  

As it turned out, Val and Irene headed back to our hotel and I wandered over to the beach.  It was cold, it was windy, and I think it was raining.  It was still more awesome than whatever you were doing that night. At least to me.  What you were doing was probably pretty awesome too.  Then it became time to think about getting ready for the closing party.  There were busses coming to pick us up and we'd made a collective decision to depart from the other hotel.  Val and Irene were waiting outside our hotel when we walked up - they were hoping there'd be a conference shuttle to shuffle them off to the hotel.  There was talk of walking over to the hotel. I'd have been down with that but I was not in any state for a party. Sitting on the beach, salt spray, wind, rain, hot sweaty day. Umm. No. I needed 9 minutes.  I announced that I would be back in less than 9 minutes if they could just wait for me that long.

This was met with basic disbelief but damn, they have no idea.  In 9 minutes I showered, changed, put on some mascara and called it good. I might have been back in 8 minutes.  Val and I took a cab because she was afraid of getting her party hair rained on. So naturally we beat the other walkers back to their hotel. It did not rain. 

I was ok with this.  Then. We. Waited. For. Everyone. Else. To. Get. Ready. 

Don't get me wrong, I can take an hour to get ready myself.  I didn't mind that they all took so long to get ready. We had fun making fun of ourselves and each other.  Irene's suitcase had finally turned up after days of waiting so she was pretty excited to see her stuff.  I can only imagine.  

Eventually, after much time, we set off for the busses down in the lobby. And that's when it happened. I was standing in the hallway and my back just gave out. I was standing. Not moving. Not even wearing foolish boots or shoes. Standing.  

I may have sworn. I may have walked very carefully down the stairs, very slowly, leading the group down to the lobby. Eventually someone asked what was up and I shared my tale of woe.  Damn, that hurt. I needed some booze, stat.

Thankfully the Brazilians had thought of that.  We got into a bus, and were whisked away to another bus a few blocks down the road. (Weird). Then we were hauled to the venue, somewhere across town. My back hurt like hell, I don't mind saying.  

When we got there we were initially disappointed.  A meeting of 3000, no idea how many tickets they'd sold to this thing but there was probably seating for less than 100 people. They made up for this by having free flowing alchohol. Seriously. Everywhere you looked there were waiters with some kind of whiskey shots, beer, and you could go get a fruity caiphirinia thing made at a booth in the corner. 

I was underwhelmed by the whole thing at first. Nowhere to sit and it hurt like hell to stand.  I actually sat on the cement out in the covered patio area just outside the venue.  Eventually I found a comfortable chair in the foyer, away from the people and I rested my back there. Read a book on the kindle app on my phone. Texted with various people back home. Had a lot of time to sit around and think.

Lordy. This was the first time that was a bad idea.  My head is screwed on pretty straight most of the time.  I can make some stupid, spur of the moment decisions any day of the week but at that time? My head was not screwed on anywhere close to straight.  Visions of test results and nasty papers about prognoses with the numbers and the type of cancer I had (and I hadn't told anybody what I'd read. I figured me going crazy with the knowledge was quite enough, thanks).  So I think maybe people thought I was over reacting. 

I said it before, and I'll say it again. No matter what kind of cancer you have in you, it's going to mess with your head. No matter how level headed you might be.

So yes. I got a little crazy sitting out there in my comfortable chair.  Then I got a text message that changed everything.  At least for a while. At least long enough to send me to the bar, anyway.  I was watching the dancers, sort of watching for the people I'd come with, nursing my drink and wishing my stupid back weren't so stupid. I don't remember who found me, but the evening just improved the hell out of itself from there on in.  I couldn't begin to tell you how much I drank. I had conversations with a lot of people. Eventually I had enough alcohol to kill the pain in my back, and dammit, I danced to celebrate.  My recollections from there on in are hazy. There are pictures of the crazy, but I got obsessed with photographing the desserts instead of Val with a rose between her teeth. We did wear flowers in our hair.  Any night where you can since and dance with Abba's Dancing Queen is a good night in my books. 

See? Dessert: 

I have about 40 more pictures with varying degrees of focus. I could not possibly tell you if these were any good. I expect yes, since I didn't eat anything I didn't like while I was in Brazil. 

Oh. Did we have fun.  Fuuuuuuuuuuun.  I switched from beer/vodka/whiskey to water about half an hour before we left.  To make sure the next day would be fuuuuuuuun. The funniest part about that? Pretty sure the water came straight out of the taps. When we got to Salvador we were afraid to even use the water to brush our damn teeth. Heh. 

You know how you have weird conversations when you've had too much to drink? I had one that still has me scratching my head a little and really hoping I misunderstood. 

Albertans have a bit of a rep at large scale poultry events. We close down the parties. Well, when we got to this party I didn't think that would be happening. However. We're true Albertans, every one of us because damn if we didn't shut the place down.  The bus ride back to the hotel was... interesting.  We'd met a Japanese scholar that had been in school with someone that hadn't come to Brazil, and we were supposed to bring greetings. Except. Not a one of us knew who he was, and I think he might have been speaking Japanese when he asked us to pass on the greetings.

The next day we'd made plans to tour Salvador once the conference wrapped up.  Cibele's taxi driver was there to pick us up at the appointed hour and we proceeded to see the sights. I've got pictures of some it! 

We went to this church - the taxi driver told us in no uncertain terms to only buy ribbons from a specific shop, so we did. Then you took certain colors and tied them to the fence, making a wish as you did.

Fascinating church.  People come there, pray to be healed, or a family member or friend. They'll even bring the body part they want healed, or take a picture. That was kind of creepy.  

Next we went to a fort kind of area, with a shack that sold cold coconut water directly out of the coconut. This was awesome, because they open the coconut by attacking it with a machete. I have video, somewhere.  The coconut water was so damn good - trust me when I say this was not my last coconut water. Apparently it is supposed to be awesome for recovering from a run or exercise (so says the teenaged kid bagging my groceries last weekend. He was making fun of the cashier for drinking the stuff from the can - I told them about the real deal and they were all into that).  

We did some shopping in a giant market. Val was blown away, she'd never seen anything quite like this before. I was once again blase, because I? Have spent a whole lot of time in these types of markets. Across the world.  Call me a jerk, but I was pretty selective in what I wanted from there as a result.  I bought a towel (THANK GOD!)

Later we rode this giant elevator that takes you from the lower town up to the pelhourino. The elevator was basically terrifying - it stopped a few inches off the actual floor and I was the first one off the damn thing. If I am going to fall to my death, I want to see it coming. 

We went for lunch in the Pelhourino after being driven over to the square we'd been at the other evening.  We'd all been told in no uncertain terms that we were to say Nao! to anyone that tried to give us anything, or sell us anything, or basically look at us crooked.  We practiced and everything!

Airell got out of the cab and immediately was met by someone that sensed weakness. Bless his heart, he said sim! (yes!) to whatever the guy was offering. 

We made fun of him for the rest of the day. I think Val and I made fun of him the next week too. And I might have brought it up from time to time after that.  

I cannot remember much of what we did in the Pelhourino other than complain about how hungry I was and for the love of heaven, could we just pick somewhere, anywhere, I don't care where, to eat? Please? Pretty please? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD?

We ate.  We drank. We took pictures. We had ourselves a good time.  

 

And when we ended the day, we ended up in our hotel room once again. There were plans to be made! (Ha! I came full circle in this post. Go me.)  

The next morning Val and I were flying to Rio de Janiero. For the weekend. As you do. We had nowhere to stay. No idea where we could stay. My laptop (brought along only because I neded to write my stupid talk the week before) became the device of destiny - what would we all be doing with our first Friday in Brazil?

For Val and I, it was the weekend in Rio. Hee. I still love saying that. I used tripadvisor to find us a nice hotel on copacobana beach. It was #3. I didn't want #1 because it was $600 a night. And under major renovation.  #3 seemed just about right, we got a suite right on the beach with ocean views for $200 a night (seemed good at the time) and I justified it with the 'I had cancer' argument. 

Martin, Doug, Cibele, Irene, et al were in the market to see some turtles and golfing.  

Airell was off to the Amazon with the other group from Saskatchewan.  We were going to meet up a few days later in the Pantanal.  I still had to book all of that. That wasn't until Tuesday though, and this was Thursday so I figured I had plenty of time. Airell did pass on the contact information so I could email when we got to Rio.

Cibele, bless her heart, before she left gave us the phone numbers where she'd be staying with her family while she was still in country. In case we needed help. What we needed was her traveling with us, but alas. That was not to be.

So. That leaves us with this installment with Val and I ready to flit off to Rio (for the damn weekend! Ha! I never get tired of saying that).   Foreshadowing - before I left Brazil I'd have spent 3 weekends in that city. 

And I say this now - those won't be the last weekends I spend there either.  I will be back. 

saudade

I remember going to a thesis defense about 2 weeks after I got home and having a conversation with my friend Soledad (who'd also gone to Brazil).  She was the first one to describe saudade. She told me that was what was wrong with me at that moment (based on her reading of my facebook and blog posts). She told me that saudade is a Portuguese word without a direct translation into English and in the simplest sense, it is a longing, an emptiness, for something that is (not) there.  

Wikipedia provided me this definition: "intimate feeling and mood caused by the longing for something absent that is being missed. This can take different aspects, from concrete realities (a loved one, a friend, the motherland, the homeland...) to the mysterious and transcendant."

I've thought of saudade off and on over the past few months.  Perhaps saudade is the reason I've started to write about my trip - to bring it closer to me by purposely walking through those days again while they are still mostly clear in my mind.  

I think about this a lot though - what is it, exactly, my saudade? Is it the country? Or is it the friends I made? I have a hard time separating the two. Then I start thinking about the person I was at that time and I know they can't be separated. There was an almost perfect confluence of people, places and my own self at that particular time that made that experience so life altering. So life changing. So awesome. One of the friends I made in Brazil wrote about her own experiences and led off with saying God is everywhere. I knew that before, I knew that then, and I know that now.  But the hand of God in my life is sometimes not apparent until well after something has happened and my goodness, do I see that now.  It may have seemed to some of you that it was an impulsive decision to stay an extra couple of weeks without any real plan other than a willing travel partner but believe me when I say this: I was absolutely where I needed to be, exactly when I needed to be there.  

This journey back through Brazil is my way of living with the saudade.  Writing can be such a selfish exercise - especially on a blog.   But for the writers among us, it is as necessary as breathing. If that doesn't make sense to you, sorry. I can't explain it any better than that.

***

Salvador was a mixture of fun and drudgery.  If you've never had the good fortune to attend an international scientific conference, well. Sorry about your luck. This conference may have been the worst organized of any that I've attended, but that didn't mean that the science was universally terrible. In fact, quite the opposite. I got to see some great talks (and some not so great talks) and for some reason, my abstract got chosen to move from a poster presentation to an oral so I got to add myself to the list of great talks . Heh.  The conference started on Sunday evening, and if memory serves, my talk was on Tuesday. Right before lunch.  

I'm not a nervous public speaker.  Thanks to years of 4-H I lost that deer in the headlights feeling decades ago.  If I may toot my own horn a bit, I'm actually pretty good at speaking in front of a group. This skill has often shocked people that have known me for a while but never seen me give a presentation or emcee an event. Heh. I like being surprising. Just because one doesn't like being the centre of attention does not mean that one cannot hold a crowd in the palm of their hand.

I don't want to relive the whole conference.  The really good bits of the week in Salvador? Were the evenings spent with some of my favorite people, who also happen to be people I work with. Everyone should be so lucky.  

Ha! I just remembered a text conversation I had with one of them - I was asking if he'd gotten his visa, he had, just in time, and I replied (from Miami) that I was quite excited that I'd be seeing him in Brazil. We'd (along with his lovely daughter) spent a memorable couple of weeks in Australia 4 years before.  His reply was a shocked - 'you're going to Brazil?' 

When we first met up at the conference it was extremely gratifying to be met by this old friend with a hug.  It's nice to know people care.  

Anyway. What did we get up to in the evenings while we were in Salvador?  Well, our first night, Monday, was kind of random.  One of our number, Cibele, a charming grad student from Brazil, made it her mission to find us good places to go AND ensure we didn't get ripped off.  I think we took a taxi to a seafood restaurant recommended by... someone Cibele met/knew. It was just down the street from my hotel.  She ordered us basically... a bit of everything.  

Full disclosure: I do not like shrimp.  Nasty little things if you ask me. HOWEVER. Salvador, and the state of Bahia in general are noted for their seafood stews and such.  We tried our first moqueca divine fish stew, even with the shrimp. There was another type of stew/soup thing, I want to say it was a bo boa? I will have to ask my brazilian friends what it was exactly.  Delicious.

I have a terrible picture of a moqueca:

Do not let the crappiness of the photo distract you from the truth that this was delicious. And it was there, at that restaurant, that I had my first one of these:

Oh, but it certainly wasn't the last.  Oh my heavens, no. That, my friends, is a caiphirinia.  Made with cachaca, a sugar cane rum, and utterly deadly.  Trust me.  We arrived at the restaurant around 630 (which we learned later was entirely too early for most Brazilians) and didn't leave until well after 930 - pickled to the gills and entirely happy with our lot in life, walking back to our hotel under a full moon along a gorgeous beach.  We had to cross the street in front of the Bompreco so naturally we all went in.  There was more booze to be bought! Cibele wanted to teach us about Brazilian produce! The night was young!

It's like all your good sense runs out the window after you've had a shot or two of anything with cachaca in it.

I have pictures of us in the store that night. But they are on my other computer. I've put them in my dropbox folder but it is taking a long time for them to upload. The pictures that were the most entertaining are on facebook anyway, so there you go.  Future posts will have more photos once dropbox is all synced up. (Try to restrain your excitement).

Our hotel was on the way back to the rest of the group's hotel, so they came in for a while. We played games and ate Brazilian oreos.  The games? They stuck oreos on their head and waited for the icing to melt.  For fun.  I did not play this game because it was stupid.  But I did pull the photo off facebook so I can be amused by this in the future when I reread this:

From left to right, meet Cibele, Martin, Irene, Airell and Val.  

Eventually the elderly among the group (which actually, now that I think about it, both I and Val can be counted) were tired and wandered back to their hotel a few blocks away. Safety in numbers.  I kinda remember Airell and Cibele staying behind and the 4 of us drank what was left of the beer that we'd just bought and killed whatever was in our mini bar.  I may have looked at my presentation for the next morning. I think not.  Eventually they went back to their hotel, braving the creepy Salvador streets (against later advice).  They texted us when they got back so we knew they weren't dead and we didn't have to send out the search parties. Not that we'd have known how to do that without a lot of studying of the phrase book.

The next night was Tuesday. I was excited to be done my presentation.  Cibele had heard about Olodum and their weekly show in the Pelhourino and she wanted us to go there instead of Rio Vermehlo like she'd been planning up til that point.  I'd read about them in my guide book so I was totally game.  We found ourselves a cab that was almost a mini van, and just barely fit the 8 of us.  There were 2 seats in the very back of that cab and we managed to fit 3 of us back there. I was the fool that sat (crouched?) in the middle on the way there.  After that? I totally pulled rank, age, cancer, you name it, so I didn't have to 'sit' there again. We used the same cab because? Cibele made friends with our driver and he became our official driver for the rest of our stay in Salvador.  

We drove through Salvador's main shopping district and dang, was it different than the convention centre area.  Fancy shopping malls, a huge Bompreco and a giant football stadium going up or being refurbished for the World Cup in a couple of years.  I think that was the first time I heard Airell say that he wanted to see a football game while he was in Brazil.  It was on my list too, but further down in my priorities.

When we got to the Pelhourino, there was a giant kind of fair/street party happening in the main square.  We wandered off in the direction Cibele thought the Olodum show was and we came across the African catholic church (also a thing from my guidebook). I've been in a few catholic churches in my time, but this one was totally different.  They were in the communion part of the mass so the choir was just going for it. Awesome.  I could have listened all night.  BUT! We were hungry. We needed food!  And tickets to Olodum.  Eventually we found a ticket seller, found the Olodum venue and carried on to find something to eat. And drink, naturally.  We ended up in a teeny little cafe and ordered an assortment of stuff.  I had my first bejiu. Here's a picture of the one I had for breakfast the next morning:

Holy crap. So good. It's a pancake basically, made of manioc root. My first one had bananas and caramel sauce or similar in it. So. Dang. Tasty. I could eat that every morning. And I think I want to try making them.

Then we were off to the Olodum show.  I don't think any of us knew what to expect - I'd read about them so I knew there were drums and they'd worked with Paul Simon and Michael Jackson. I was unprepared for how infectious the music was, how you could dance to it all night long.  Cibele, bless her heart, tried to teach me how to Samba that night. It was mostly a failure, BUT, I did learn the basic steps.  I've got a great sense of rhythm, I just can't make my feet move in time to it.

Sigh.  I still had fun.  And a lot of beer.

Ha! A funny thing from that night.  One of our group named Doug is not really a party pooper, but he's not a singer, he's not a dancer and well, maybe that constitues party pooper in your book but Doug is still a lot of fun.  We were all pretty pickled that night and dancing in our own special ways. Doug did not dance. Doug didn't even bob his head in time to the music. I made a bet with Val that Doug would not dance before the end of the night.  

Imagine my surprise when a while later he was actually dancing.  It didn't take me long to figure it out though - Val'd told him about the bet and offered to split the proceeds with him. Ha! It would almost have been worth it if I'd actually paid out the bet. I didn't, because Val cheated. However. I've now seen Doug dance AND 3 years before, after another conference, I actually heard him sing. I was the only one who heard it, so it's kinda like it didn't happen, but trust me. There was singing. Now there was dancing. 

We stayed almost til the end of Olodum, but had to meet our driver at midnight. We drove home to our respective hotels, basically happy with the world and our place in it.  I think the back of that van was the first time I fell asleep in a random place (other than my bed) in Brazil. I know Airell fell asleep because he? Can fall asleep absolutely anywhere. I wish I had that gift. 

The next day was the last full day of the conference. We all had tickets to the closing party that night.  Based on how the conference had been organized to that point, we weren't optimistic about the party.

Were we wrong about that.  Heh.  Sweet heaven. Were we EVER wrong. Brazilians? Take the party part of the meeting SERIOUSLY.

But that's a story for another day. 

Brazil. Episode 2.

When last I sat at this keyboard to record the story of my trip to Brazil I kinda went on a bit.  Let's see if I can do better this time - I should have taken some time to edit. Good grief.  

So. Where was I? Oh yes, arriving in Salvador.  Let me start with a wee geography lesson. Salvador is in the northeastern part of Brazil, in the state of Bahia.  It's got some amazing culture with African influences from colonial times.  I could go on about that, but you can google just as well as I can.  The conference was at the convention centre in Salvador, which was located a fair distance away from the more fun parts of the town like the Pelhourino neighborhood. 

We landed early in Salvador. I think we were scheduled to land at 1am, and I think we actually landed at 12:30am. This was not the first time we arrived before we were supposed to. I was kind of baffled by this. In North America, they actually stick (or at least try) fairly close  to departure times, and simply add on flying and taxiing time and voila, that's your arrival time.  The departure and arrival times (based on the 8 separate flights I took within Brazil) seemed to be mostly guidelines.  Don't get me wrong, it was usually to our benefit - arriving early is awesome.   Just unexpected.  

I'd booked a taxi to come get us and deliver us to our hotel.  Since the conference was starting later that day there were a lot of signs with familiar company names in the arrivals area.  Eventually we found my name and we were off to our beachfront hotel.  I had sort of gotten my phone to work while we were in Salvador, but only in a really limited way.  By the time we got to Salvador I'd taken out the battery and rebooted the phone and now it was really working.  Dozens of texts and emails were flying on my phone, and I, having been cut off from the world for 12 hours, had a need to catch up.  

Val was utterly mystified by this for she was utterly transfixed by our surroundings.  She got mad at me at one point - she couldn't figure out why I wasn't interested in our surroundings - people were living in shanties! She was blown away that people could live in conditions like that.  

Here's where I probably look like a jerk - but I was pretty blase about it. I was actually surprised at her - how had she never seen anything like this?  She's travelled quite a bit BUT just in North America and Northern Europe.  I went to Mexico for the first time when I was 9 years old. I was blown away then when I saw someone sweeping the dirt with a broom made out of wood.  Things were dirty.  The sidewalks weren't even.   In the next 30 years I've spent a fair bit of time (as a privileged tourist, mind you) in similar places. So it just wasn't new to me to be seeing that.  

It was also dark.

And our taxi driver was driving REALLY fast.  We arrived at our hotel, the Sol Plaza Sleep.  It was across the street from one of the most lovely beaches I've ever seen.  

Checking in was interesting. We'd paid for the hotel through the conference so I handed over my voucher.  We needed our phrase book and google translator to make it all the way through the check-in process.  

Our room was actually kind of nice by my standards. Val? Was not so sure.  I think she asked me about 5 times in the first 10 minutes we were in the room if we were going to be safe.  She didn't even want to take her shoes off in the room.  We went to bed fairly soon after we arrived. It had been a looong day.  

We spent the next day getting our bearings - we took our first walk down the beach.  Then we found a Bompreço about a block down from our hotel.  We thought it was just another Brazilian drugstore/grocery store.  When we got inside we found Walmart branded stuff and with some quick googling we found out that Walmart owned this chain of stores.  All that way to end up in a bloody walmart. Crazy.  It worked out well though - we'd each forgotten some stuff and frankly we were both kinda interested in the meat/seafood/produce sections.  Also the beer and bottled water.  For we? Were terrified of getting something from even brushing our teeth with tap water.

I shake my head at myself now.  By the time I left I was drinking water straight from the tap to stave off the hangover I deserved for another night of way too much drinking.  I took that disgusting Dukoral stuff to avoid issues after the travel immunization nurse scared the hell out of us with all the nasty stuff we could catch if we didn't buy all the needles she could sell us.   

Our first meal in Brazil was at our hotel - they had a buffet.  We managed to order drinks when a waiter wandered by from time to time but the fun part really came when it was time to ask for the bill.  It took a few minutes of searching but eventually I found the right spot in the phrase book. I practiced on Val a few times before I summoned the courage to try out my first real portuguese sentence ever:

por favor, traga a conte? 

Hands down, that was the most useful phrase I learned in portuguese.  Well, that, obrigada and cerveja.  I was so proud when the waiter said, conte, sim.  (The bill. Yes.)

The conference started that evening so we decided we'd walk over to the conference center.  It might have been winter in Brazil in August, but Salvador's weather basically doesn't change. It was hot. It was humid.  By the time we got to the conference center we were basically melting.  The Centre was huge. Four levels. They were busy putting up flags for all the countries coming to the Poultry Congress, and there were huge signs on the outside of the building welcoming us in several languages.  

That was the last bit of signage that was remotely helpful.  We spent the next hour wandering the ramps and halls of that damn place.  We found the poster session area (and figured out where our groups posters were to go) but damned if they didn't have even a single damn sign pointing to the registration area.  

Hands  down, this was the worst organized meeting I've ever attended.  Highlights of the awfulness - they didn't have our registration information so I had to dig through my email (at great expense) on my blackberry to prove we'd registered (since we'd forgotten to print out our stuff, naturally).   The meeting's official language was English, which meant that the presentations were all to be in English. Invariably if a presenter was from Brazil (and a very large number of presenters were - you had to be chosen for an oral presentation by the organizers) the presentation was likely to be in Portuguese. They offered translation but you had to get the right device for the right room to get it to work. And they wanted your passport as insurance. Hells no.  The opening ceremony was full of people thanking all the more important people than them for deigning to grace us with their presence.  The presentations were never really on time - if the program says 1:30, you need to stick to that because some people move from room to room. I heard the end of a lot of talks. SO ANNOYING.  There was no map of where the scientific talks were supposed to be - but a great map of the exhibitor area - those people had paid the organizers money to be there, so apparently rated a map. 

That said, they put on a pretty good opening reception in the exhbitor area.  Tons of food and non alcholic drinks.  I ate meatballs that looked like a sugar coated timbit. I couldn't tell you what any of the stuff I ate was - it was all surprising and all good. I had my first taste of guarana (which was disappointing because I thought it was beer). Eventually I grew to really like it. We met up with the rest of our group that had spent 12 hours in the airport in Houston enroute to Salvador. At least we had the fun of shopping in Miami. Heh.

After the reception we ended up in an all you can eat pizza restaurant for beer. Brazil and its beer deserves a post all its own so I won't go into it now. It was cold and it was good.  The most memorable thing about that night was my future travel companion trying out his portuguese on our waiter/bus boy.  He was trying to ask if the waiter would get to go home soon because the restaurant was closing.  

What he really asked was if the waiter wanted to go home with him.

We're jerks, so we laughed for about 10 minutes (so did all the people in the restaurant) and we didn't let him forget that for a while.  Even better, there were so many other things to mock among our entire group in the days ahead.  Some of them were kind of epic. Some of them are stories I can actually tell. Some of them I will merely smile about and mention obliquely, in passing.  For I? Am a jerk.

Good grief, 1600 words and I've only gotten through one more day.  If anyone reads this I will be shocked.  On the bright side, I did do some writing while I was in Brazil so those days are already covered.