From the beaches to the ghetto - last thoughts on Brazil

Okay, we're in Argentina, and I've got some things I want to write about now, but there are some last thoughts on Brazil that I wanted to get in.

Favela Tours

So after some debate, Simon and I decided to take a guided tour of a favela, slum towns on the hills surrounding Rio. (It`s funny, in Rio, the rich live at sea level close to the beach and the poor live in the hills with amazing views of the beach.) I am sure many of you are appalled by the idea. And you should be; it seems completely jacked up to bring tourists in to view the blight and poverty of a city in such a voyeuristic way. But the more that I thought about it, the economist in me realized that everyone is probably better off with the tour in existience. We, as a travelers, have a better sense of what life is like in Rio, rather than staying on the ritzy beach in Ipanema drinking coconut juice and working on our tans. Aand the favelas are better off, since a portion of the fee goes towards community projects. I was not entirely comfortable with the idea, but I thought I would be less comfortable with the thought of turning a blind eye to it. It also had gotten some pretty amazing reviews from fellow travellers so we went for it.

We went with a guide named Luis, who owns a company called Be A Local, and has run tours in the favela for three years. On the main road, the favelas were actually much more built up that I expected. For some reason, I expected shanty towns and clapboard houses, as many people said that the communities aren't really recognized by the government. However, for the record, there is a post office, a health clinic, schools and community workers picking up trash, or at least in the particular favela we were in (though none of these services are enough to support the favela´s population - about 200,000 people). Instead of corrugated metal and wood, I found all the houses were made of brick and most had more than one floor. There were also tons of stores , including bars, bakeries, grocery stores etc. That being said, the conditions, especially as you got further away from the main road, were pretty squalid. Open sewers and garbage everywhere.

Tons of "regular" people live in the favela, including a lot of blue collar workers such as waiters, housekeepers, etc and all the people that keep Rio working. Not surprisingly gangs and drug dealers control a lot of what goes on there. I´m sure Luis sends a cut of our fee to the local dealer. And while Luis pointed out some drug dealers that were keeping watch (so we don`t take pictures of them), it felt pretty safe in the favela with the guide.

What was more interesting than the favelas themselves is seeing how Luis interacted with the members of the community. His company, among other things, created a free day care program which houses 60 kids in the community. He is obviously concerned about the kids in the community, but gives them a lot of tough love. He told the kids that he did not want to see them begging tourists for money. If they wanted money, they would have to do something for it. So with the help of favela artists, the kids paint make small paintings, bracelets and necklaces to sell. He told us that we should only buy them if we wanted them and not because we were motivated by guilt. He also insisted that under no circumstances should we buy if we are approached by kids trying to hard sell some of their crafts. And whenever a child did it, he said he has punished them by not bringing his tour groups by for a week. He felt they would not be learning anything from simply getting handouts and/or trying to guilt people into buying things. Tough love. I really admire what he is trying to do, and I can`t imagine how many lines he has to draw in a given day.

It´s a tough situation, and definitely not all black and white and I am glad I did it.

Churrascaria

Okay, in a terrible juxtaposition from the favela tour, the night before going into a favela we went to a traditional Brazillian Churrascaria. Basically, it´s an all-you-can eat restaurant with buffet tables of salad and sushi and waiters bringing racks of grilled meat right to your table. You get these little buttons with one side in green that says "sí" and the other side in red saying "no." If you don't want to get any more meat, you turn your button over so the waiters know not to come by. However, it seemed that the waiters kept disrespecting Simon's red button for some reason and kept piling on the meat. The food was pretty good and I was really excited for the sushi, which was just ok by any American standard, but welcome since I was totally craving rice. I had to stop after maybe a plate and half of meat (it's hard to count since it just keeps coming). As Simon said, you don´t want it to be a bad experience. We went with four others in our hostel and had a blast. I think our entire meal, plus drinks ended up being about $15 USD each. I am glad I did it, but it has kind of turned me off of meat for a while. Good thing I'm in Argentina.

Franguese

Simon's talked about his thoughts on language and I should add my experience on this. I speak some french and toisanse, a variation of the cantonese dialect. I've used each once, and in only one of those occurences was it marginally helpful. The first was in a hostel where I brokered a shopping trip between and American girl and a French girl. The second was in Peru when we went to a cambio to exchange dollars and the owners were chinese and spoke toisanese (which by the way, is really rare, esp considering the husband was born in the jungle of peru). And it wasn't necessary, since they spoke spanish perfectly.

I took some crappy adult ed class in spanish before I left, and it didn't really help all that much. But to be honest, I don't thinkI could have handled anything more intensive given work and packing up and the like. If I know the context, I think I can understand the gist of what is going on. And one out of three times, the word in french is same as the one in spanish, so I find myself using french a lot. It's a terrible habit.

But when Simon caught some kind of bug in Itacare, I had to buy a thermonter to measure his temperature. The best I could muster was "Mi esposo tiene un febre. Quiero se cuantos celcius." Downright miserable I know. The pharmacists (I had to go to several before I found one which carried thermonters) were utterly confused. When they figured it out, I was totally confused, because they started sticking pens and things into their armpit and shaking their head. I didn't realize that you stick the thermonter in your armpit and not in your mouth in this country . I felt like an ignorant american in Brazil, in particular. I figured, I need to focus on one language right now and I think Spanish is the one.

But I also find that I get nervous speaking Spanish and sometimes I will really think about something and put off asking a question, for lack of confidence. For instance, I just wanted to know what neighborhood our hostel was in, but I spent about five minutes rehearsing the question "Donde esta el hostal en Buenos Aires?" in my head before asking it. It's the same nervousness I get when I try to talk to someone else (other than family members) in chinese. I just need to be more agressive about speaking more. Hablo castellano bonito un dia.

Five Reasons I Am Excited About Argentina
1. Tap water - you can drink it here, so I can drink to my hearts content
2. Ice cream and butter - the dairy is amazing in this country
3. Pesos - the exchange is great due to a weak peso and we can eat out again for about $2-4 each.
4. No mosquitos (or at least in BA)
5. Salads - related to the water issue. I know I can eat as many salads as possible.

Christmas in Itacaré

After 22 hours of traveling via bus (only 6 hours of which was air conditioned) we arrived in Itacaré, a small fishing village on the coast, turned hippie/hipster hotspot.

Right off the bat, I spent a day in bed with a fever and throwing up. Was it the chicken patty, the warm cup of tapioca pudding from that damn street vendor, or just a 24 hour bug caught on the bus? Reading the Health section of Lonely Planet Brazil suggested dengue fever. Apparently, in 2002, 800,000 people in Rio came down with it. That´s like the entire city of San Francisco getting ill. By noon on the second day, though, I could keep down a bowl of ramen and seemed to be fine.

Santa Cruz of Brazil

Itacaré is the Santa Cruz of Brazil. Lots and lots of white kids with dreadlocks selling jewelry. And these are Brazilians, not foreign imports. It´s like you need a tattoo or piercing just to get on the beach. Or at least a golden torso sculpted by years of paddling out into fierce surf. I, of course, have none of these. I quickly rented a surfboard to remedy the situation. Three days and I should be tan, if not sculpted.

The next morning I woke to a light rain, and resolutely lugged my enormous longboard to the beginner´s beach. I imagined Brodie heading into the Thousand Year Storm at Bells Beach, Keanu "I am an FBI agent" Reeves shaking his head on the shore. The rain picked up, further fueling my romantic surfer notions. In fact, the surf seemed a little rough for a "beginner´s beach," and sure enough, a nice lady in the waves told me to stay away from the rocks because the "waves were big today." After watching me try to catch an enormous roller and get pummelled, she also told me to stop that immediately. I thankfully moved closer to shore to find the baby waves.

I quickly learned that a surfboard´s first instinct is to try and kill you. It has many weapons at its disposal. The three sharp fins to sever an artery, the leash to tangle your legs, the board to club you on the head and ribs as it flops around in the waves. In fact, most of the first hour was spent figuring out how to avoid these threats, nevermind the huge friggin waves. It´s like swimming with a rabid pitbull chained to your ankle.

By the end of the second hour I had rope burn across my palm and my chest was scratched up from the board, despite the rash guard. I did stand up a few times, though I would be hard pressed to say that I actually "caught" a wave. The waves were only getting rougher as the tide went out, so I called it a day.

Over the next couple of days I came back to find much friendlier conditions. I'd say I actually caught and rode a total of one wave in 7 hours in the water. I stood up many times, but the wave died soon after I got to my feet. Still, super fun. Also, I'm really tan now, so there´s that.

Xmas in the Tropics

As Christmas approached, the people in town got noticeably paler and squashier, signaling the arrival of Brazilian tourists from the big cities. More families appeared and the restaurants started raising the prices. Fortunately, our hotel didn´t up their rates (we had a private air-conditioned room for $17) till the 27th, after we left. A few of the other places started to double and triple rates as early as the 25th.



For Xmas dinner we splurged on the fancy place in town, and had an AWESOME meal of fish with plantains, onions, and greens all sizzling on a skillet. Great sides of beans and rice, too. For dessert, we´d been having only açaí, a cold berry custard that we first tasted in Lençois (see photo of me about to dig in). The açaí berry, native to Amazonia, supposedly has amazing healthful properties. A cold bowl of açaí with sliced bananas is pretty much the best thing in the world. Someone should be importing this stuff.

Since we´re headed to Argentina tomorrow, a look back on the last 3.5 weeks:

Top 5 Brazil Things (In No Particular Order)

1. Açaí - Already covered above. Today we arrived in Ipanema to find every just-arrived New Year´s tourist sucking it up like it´s going out of style. As they should.

2. Havaiannas - Everyone from street kids to the wealthiest Carioca wears these rubber flip flops. They are really comfortable. I naively bought another brand when I first got here, only to experience burning discomfort after only a block or two. There´s just something about these slippers that works really well. A couple of the Lençois guides wore them with a fully loaded pack up and down steep terrain. Apparently, they sell for real cash in the US and Europe, particularly the fancy styles (I predictably have the basic ninja black). I think a nice Brazilian vacation could be financed through ebay auctions of Haviannas in the States, assuming you can sneak a couple of hundred pairs through customs.

3. Hot People - Brazilians are just really hot. There´s no getting around that. The chicks are nice and golden, with curves in all the right places. The guys look like surfers or super ripped breakdancers. And they're not afraid to show it off. The nice lady at the money exchange place today was about to explode out of her top, all over the keyboard. It´s probably also worth noting that Brazilians (at least in Bahia, which is, admittedly, the beach state - a rough equivalent of California) are super friendly and laid back.

4. Thumbs Up - Brazilians give a sincere "thumbs up" to express agreement, understanding, enthusiasm, whatever. The first time a guy did it to me (he actually gave me two thumbs up, a bolder option) I thought he was just doing it because he thought I was American, and that´s what cool Americans do. It took a couple more before I got used to it, and now I find it hard to avoid. It´s especially useful if you don´t speak the language but want to be friendly and agreeable. Surfer types will use the standard "hang loose" or "shaka" as an alternative.

5. Juices - In all forms are great here. Every place from the fancy Ipanema juice bar to the crappiest bus station lanchonette has a blender and an assortment of fruits. I also dig the fresh coconuts everywhere. I don´t actually like coconut juice that much, but it´s cool that you can buy an iced coconut with a straw on the beach, on the city street, and (again) at a bus station in the middle of nowhere. There´s also fresh sugar cane juice, squeezed from the cane right in front of you. A little lemon, some ice...ahhhh...

Other Travelers

We meet a lot of them, all the time. I´ve become more wary of writing snarky things about them since they may stumble onto this blog. Nevetheless, it´s worth noting that it's hard to find people that you want to hang out with for a long time. Even a meal can become tiresome in the wrong company, as evidenced by the lengthy diatribe we suffered last night on product tracking software, as used on the sales and marketing of insulating materials (I shit you not). I guess Jen and I are, deep inside, anti-social bastards, despite the friendly veneer. I start up conversations with other travelers constantly, but if things aren´t going well, I soon want to bolt. Jen and I have settled into a nice rhythm of our own. That being said, it would be nice to meet some fun folks.

I Heart Lençois

We left Salvador after a couple of days, feeling like we´d exhausted things to do in the old part of town. On the way to the bus station, I was amazed by the freeways, malls, and skyscrapers throughout the rest of the city. Spending most of our time in old Salvador (apparently slated for destruction until UNESCO stepped in) gave us a skewed view of the place for sure.

Lençois

Is an old diamond mining town inland from Salvador, whose economy now relies on tourism to the Chapada Diamantina national park. With only 9000 residents, Lençois has a nice small town feel. After only a couple of days we were seeing familiar faces on the street. It´s totally safe, too, a nice change from Salvador, where the fear of pickpockets (justified or not) and aggressive panhandlers burns you out after a while. Lençois is the kind of town where I could walk down to the river, pay a nice lady to wash our clothes, then come back to find them hanging to dry without anyone watching them.

This is the place for photos to make your friends jealous at home. Countless waterfalls and swimming holes were just a short hike from our hostel. The park itself consists of high dry mesas, with deep river-cut canyons where the vegetation and climate gets more humid and tropical.

Our Trek

Three days, two nights crossing the park from east to west. Like Jen said, it was tough descending and ascending the canyon walls. Hot as hell, and our guide, Washington, had pretty weak cooking skills, though you had to give him an A for effort. He´d prepare multiple dishes at each meal, each salted like it was going out of style. But the falls made it worthwhile.

The Ride Back

Getting back to Lençois from Capón, the town at the western end of the park, proved interesting. First, our group was collectively reamed by the driver, who charged $10 each for the 2 hour ride. I assumed we´d be in the nice air-conditioned minibus parked outside of the cafe, and was surprised to see the guy pull up in a pickup truck and start chucking our backpacks on the bed. The grim reality set in when he motioned for us to climb in next to the packs. For an hour we bounced along on a dirt road, our asses battered into a fine pulp.

When we finally did hit cruising speed on the asphalt, the cops promptly pulled the driver over for illegally trasporting passengers. None of us had any cigarettes to bribe the cop, and we were definitely not going to give up any more cash, so despite the guides´protests, the driver abandoned us at a gas station by the side of the road. The good news was that we found ourselves next to a gorgeous mesa. The bad news was that we were still 25 k from Lençois.

For 30 minutes the guides joked about more trekking, after which half the group thumbed a ride, leaving the rest of us to wait for the bus. Seconds after the hitchers drove off, one of the guides said "something something domingo!" and slapped himself on the head. Ah, yes. Apparently the bus doesn´t run on domingos.



So Washington hitched a ride solo to some other town near Lençois, where his buddy met him with a car. He came for us after an hour or so. (While waiting I had the most delicious sweet corn tamale from the gas station snack bar.) Of course, when we saw the car, it became clear that we wouldn´t fit, forcing Washington and another guide into the trunk. Sadly, Wash´s buddy drove like a real newbie, with a steady look of fear on his face. Having to dodge cow-sized potholes and cargo trucks probably didn´t help. At some point on the ride, one of the bumps slammed the trunk shut, leaving Wash and the other guy in a dark hot hole full of carbon monoxide. Occassionally, we´d thump on the backdash to make sure they were still alive.

It was all good though, when we got to Lençois and had dinner at Wash´s house. His baby mama is a significantly better cook than he is. Beans, rice, noodles, a delicious mystery chicken paste (best not to ask), fish, salad, and fresh passionfruit juice.

Climbing

I also did a one-day climbing trip in Lençois. Was I worried that the guide had a huge tattoo of a marijuana leaf on his arm? Eh, maybe a little. Perhaps to quell any fears, he also had a tattoo saying "Highly Experienced Guide."

At the crag, I was happy/surprised to see multiple well-protected bolted routes. I led something that felt like a 5.8, floundered up a 5.9, and fell off a 5.10something.

Sure enough, the guide sparked up some European weed (stronger than the local stuff), but remained committed to safety, always pre-clipping the first bolt when possible and making sure the quickdraws were facing the right way.

Lencois/Itacare, Brasil - Waterfall treks and other bodies of water

So while I thought Salvador was a beautiful city and I had a blast with their street fairs, I found myself getting a little itchy to be a little more active. (I didn't want to hang out on anymore beaches and there is only so much city wandering and church viewing I can take.) So at my urging, simon and I took a bus to the city of Lençois, six hours east (inland) from Salvador after only being there for a few days. There is a national park (Chapada Diamantia), which is loaded with waterfalls. To the left, I´m looking over the edge of the highest one in Brazil (420 meters).

Waterfall Trek

We signed up for a two night, three day trek to see the Fumaca, the smoking waterfall, and the highest in brazil. Interestingly enough, the guide we selected was also named Washington, like our guide in Macchu Pichu. We were told that it's possible to do it without a guide, but we thought it might be better to have some support social interaction as well. And I am glad we did, because it wasn't very clear cut and involved a lot of river bed hopping.

Anyhoo, for some reason, I didn't realize how hard it would be (and that reason is probably b/c I got too caught up in the pictures of the waterfall and didn't read the part in lonely planet about the level of difficulty.) It was a lot of up and down, with some pretty technical descents (which I really need to get better at). Since it was hot, I carried light clothing, but also had to carry my share of the food for the group. Or at least I carried it until I rolled my ankle on the first day (crap!), at which point, Simon took my share of the food to lighten my load. The ankle wasn't rolled too bad, it felt a little tender the first day and felt stiff for the remaining days on the trek, so luckily it was manageable.

But I was always the last person in our group of six, which sucked and I always felt a bit stressed out and rushed. I hate it when people are waiting for me, it's one of my peeves, even though everyone else in the group was really nice about it (Rafa, the spanish guy, even made me a walking stick during lunch to help me on the first day). And I'd hate to say it, but even if I did have a healthy ankle, I am sure I would still be last and probably wouldn't have gone much faster...I guess this is all prep for Patagonia and Argentina.

However, I am thrilled to report that I probably got no more than a dozen and a half new mosquito bites, and the buggers were much tamer than in the Amazon (not to mention, do not carry malaria), and none of those nasty blood sucking sand flies on the Inca Trail. So while I was tired and stressed out, I wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as I was before. I did make up for the lack of bites in scratches from trees and bruises (I bruise incredibly easily and I've got one on my thigh that is bleeding out to the size of a baseball.) So once again, my skin is wrecked. But I am confident it will heal in time for the next trek.

Also, unlike Macchu Pichu, where I really enjoyed the journey, I was definitely more in the mode of trying to get to all the waterfalls (which were stunning). The landscape was nice, but nothing nearly as striking as Peru (or at least until the third day as we headed out of the park and into the town of Capon), and as the trail was much more technical, I had to focus on looking down and ahead rather than up.

We had quite an adventure getting back from Capon. I'll let simon talk about that.

Lencois
I must say, I really enjoyed the town of Lencois. It's a small town and not that touristy, but there are enough tourists so that you don't totally stick out. And you don't get bugged as a tourist, nearly as much. And because the town is so so small, there really isn't a delination between the "tourist" area and the local area. I felt in places like Cusco, Peru and even here in this small beach town of Itacare, Brazil, I feel like it's a little bit odd for me to go beyond the quaint part of town and I get a few more stares. But in Lencois, I didn't feel that there was one part of town I should be in, or a certain grocery store that all the tourists go to. What was nice about the town was also that there were lots of little day hikes to swimming holes and waterfalls that you could also take so it was almost something for everyone. So I was a little sad to leave.

Itacare
So we're now in the town of Itacare, which is essentially the Santa Cruz of Brazil. There is much surfing to be had here (Todd Lee, eat your heart out), which is sadly wasted on me. But I found that the food is a notch cheaper here than in other places, I think due to fact that there there are a lot of surf bums here, who are trying to milk their money for as long as possible. This is good, because we've found Brazil to be a lot more expensive that we expected (see the comment posted by simon's dad on simon's salvador post which might explain why.) We got the cheapest hostel accomdations so far and it included air conditioning. While I am well educated on the environmental horrors of AC, after traveling for almost 24 hours, on three different bus legs, the last two which had no air conditioning, it was very welcome. In addition, Simon caught some minor bug and was sacked out for the day in our room with a fever and some nausea. No worries, he's better now.

Jack Johnsoned Out
Okay, I really like Jack Johnson and I believe I own all of his albums, which I listened to fairly frequently at home. But they are playing him ad naseum here in the state of Bahia. You can't walk down the street without hearing him blaring in a cafe or something. And this is true for all three cities we've been to in Bahia - Salvador, a major city; Lençois, a jungle town; and Itacare, surfer haven. I guess the last one isn't that surprising, but still. Isn't everyone else tired of it too? Apparently not.

Happy Holidays ??
So Christmas is almost here and it's kind of hard to tell. It definitely doesn't feel like Christmas, as it's 85 degrees out and there are palm trees and pineapples as far as the eye can see. What's funny is we ran into some Belgians who were amazed at the amount of Christmas schwag that was put up around town, in stores and hostels. Simon and I, on the other hand, felt it was almost unnoticeable, since it's nothing like the states.

What's funny is that the heat here reminds me of the summers in Boston, which can get pretty hot and humid. And I find myself homesick for things and places from summers in the past - an ice cream stand in Bedford, MA, hiking trails near Smith College, running along the Charles, eating outside at night in Cambridge. And I know there was a big snow storm recently in Boston so I know Boston is nothing like I imagine it to be right now. And my thoughts are far from Christmas. We're still not sure where we're gonna be for Christmas right now.

Salvador and Deep Thoughts

I definitely agree with Jen that Salvador is the most beautiful place we`ve seen yet, at least the small historic district. (The modern areas are vast and unimpressive) The buildings have aged in a graceful, regal way. These dilapidated facades are interspersed with newly renovated colorful ones, creating an effortlessly vital streetscape.

Also, despite the many warnings about how sketchy the place is, I haven`t felt particularly unsafe.

Big Thoughts on Brazil

I just finished this great book that looks at Brazilian history, politics, and culture using football as a lens. Alex Bellos` Futebol>A Brazilian Way of Life. I highly recommend it, even if you don`t care about any of those topics. Great sense of humor, incredible stories. The author's main premise is that Brazil houses the world's most talented footballers, but the corruption and lack of professionalism stunts the full evolution of ths sport locally.

I could sense a similar frustration from Rodrigo, a Brazilian we met in Arequipas. He urged us to visit the south of Brazil, where he's from, because it's so modern and well developed. He proudly described the roads as being like Swiss highways, and actually expressed some disdain for Salvador and Rio because of the disoder there. ''Sure, it's beautiful, but you're constantly afraid of being robbed.''

The common notion is that Brazil has enormous potential and wealth in its natural resources, sheer size, vibrant diverse culture, etc. Still, the country continues to flounder economically and socially, due to corruption and the wealth gap (which corroption seeks to further) acting as an anchor. I guess the same story could be told of many developing countries, including the Philippines.

Mental Health

I have to admit that I`ve also begun to long for simple, familiar food. Brazilian food is better than Peruvian fare, but is pretty oily and, frankly, not that great (with Marly`s home cooking as an exception). Even the novelty of street food has worn off somewhat, which is amazing to me. Right now, I want some good rice, not this non-sticky stuff here, that's often covered in oil.

Mostly, though, I tire of the constant decision-making. Where, when, how much to spend. This goes for food and every other facet of life - housing, tours, clothing, Internet, travel, how to spend the day, etc. Today, for example, I spent a couple of hours looking for a reaonably priced cotton t-shirt. A process that might take 30 mins. at home was a retail death march from one crowded shop to the next (ok, it wasn`t that bad). Each one had a series of pushy clerks trying to get me to try something on. I think to maintain sanity in the long term I occasionally have to spend a little more money to ease the process.

Honestly, though, whenever I start to get worn down, I think `I'm in Brazil!' and everything suddenly appears better.

Salavador, bahia - life and night life

Salvador

So we`ve spent the last two days in Salvador, Bahia, home to the second largest carnaval in the world (next to rio). This is really the most visually striking city we`ve been to so far (and I thought rio was quite beautiful).

We were lucky enough to be here on a Tuesday night, Salavador`s biggest party night. It is really incredible, every tuesday, the local government sets up tons of stages and booths for performers and vendors (mainly bars) and there is dancing in the streets and plazas from about 7 pm to midnight. And it`s mainly the locals who are attending. It`s not some kind of gimmick for the tourists. You see people from all ages out dancing. And it happens every week and it`s all free (though some clubs and private venues charge admission for some of their events). There are also samba bands and drum ensembles going through the streets. It was the most fun I had going out so far in South America and it will be hard to beat. When we were walking around at 4 pm, you can feel this sense energy and excitement as all the booths were being put up. It reminded me of seeing all the booths and stages being set up before new years eve.

After being here for 10 days, my initial impression of Brazil can be described as `rich.` Okay, I know it`s a vague word to describe an entire country and I may have another thought when I leave. Obviously I don`t mean rich in monetary sense, nor do I mean that it is super lavish (despite the 5 star hotel and beach house). I mean it in terms of depth. There is an appreciation for life and culture that is so simple yet deep. I see it their food, the lush landscape, the fashion, the music and the arts, the love of their country and their football teams. It all runs deep. Not that Peru or any other coutry is simple. Argh, I hope you get what I thinking. feel free to post comments if you`re confused and I will try to clarify.

Back to the Forest

Anyways, we`re leaving tonight to go to a the Chapada Diamantina National Park, six hours east, to do another trek. I must confess, I am not looking forward to going back to bug country. 95% of my nasty sores and scabs from the jungle have finally healed (and in their place, either white or purple pock marks, but hey it`s better than boils). For those of you who are still contemplating wedding gifts, a gift certificate for plastic surgery might be well appreciated by June. I am sure you all appreciate the dermatological updates as part of my blogs and so I promise to give you all the detials when we get out of the jungle.

Clarification on Noodles

Okay, I should have been more specific, I would kill for Pho, Chow Mein (Hong Kong Style), Yaki Soba, Singapore Fried Rice Noodles, Pad Thai or Chow Fun. I don`t have the resources and probably not the talent to pull any of those dishes off well. But we`ve made spagetti in our hostel and I`ve had ramen a couple times to try to take the edge off my craving. They were good meals but it`s not the same.

Recharging in Buzios

Not much to report other than slothdom and some beautiful beaches. The beaches here are really quite nice, the water is blue and pretty clear, but I think the beaches in Boracay, Philippines, can't be beat. Still, I've had a pretty good time here. I am not a huge sit on the beach kind of person, so it's nice to have the main street in Buzios to visit as well.

Unlike simon I am loving being a sloth here on the beach and was thrilled when it started raining. I am definitely taking this opportunity to recharge before heading off to Bahia tonight. I am getting a little antsy and that's a good sign. I need some down time every now and then. But I'm excited for two weeks of Salvador and National Parks.

I will echo everything simon has said about Marly and her family. The food has been fantastic and they've been really nice. But I must say, as we've been gone for almost four weeks, I really miss Chinese food. Or any kind of asian food. I would kill for a bowl of noodles right now. SFAC staff, please have lunch at home menu for me. I don't think I'm gonna find anything in Brazil, so it's down to Argentina in a few weeks.

Bourgois Buzios

The St Tropez of Brazil

After 4 nights in Rio (3 in posh hotel, 1 in Ipanema hostel) we´ve just spent the last 3 nights in Buzios, a resort town about 2.5 hours outside the city.

My parents met Yolanda, a well-to-do Carioca, while traveling in Bhutan this year. She has been incredibly generous, taking us around Rio one day, then letting us stay at her swank beach house while she´s away in Paris with her family.

In addition to the gorgeous pad, which literally sits right on the beach, her housekeeper, Marly, has been preparing the most amazing meals for us. Black beans with hunks of ham, fresh salad with hard boiled eggs and tomato, chicken, pork, baked fish, roasted potato, flan,...and last night an incredible passion fruit mousse. For breakfast this morning we had papaya slices, fresh squeezed OJ, Brazilian coffee, rolls, warm lemon cake, and homemade cheese with jelly. We haven´t eaten this well since getting to South America, and I doubt we´d do any better in any restaurant, which are dramatically overpriced here ($30 for pad thai at the only Thai place in town). It´s so good to eat a home-cooked meal. Jen is shopping for a thank you gift for Yolanda´s staff right now.

All we´ve been doing is going to the beach, watching movies on cable, and eating. I did take a surf lesson and managed to stand a couple of times. That´s about the most productive thing I´ve done for a while.

We´re ready to rough it again in Salvador. Leaving tonight...

Portugese Pain

It´s been tough for me to lose all my communication skills. Speaking Spanish was just fun. I felt like such a badass compared to most travelers. For a while in Rio I tried speaking Spanish with a Brazilian accent and changing words at random to sound more Portugese, but that was idiotic. Now I just speak straight Spanish. In Rio´s tourist areas, I was actually better off in English.

Brazilians generally understand Spanish. The problem is I only catch about 30% of what they say back to me. It´s ok for day-to-day situations like ordering food or taking the bus, but when I don´t know the context I am completely lost.

Rio - spoiled, spoiled, spoiled

Rotten to the Core

So three of our groomsmen, Koo, Chen and Steve, got us a few nights at this five star hotel with spa treatments and breakfast in Rio as a wedding gift. Check out the view from our room to the left. (Thanks guys, you really outdid yourselves). I must say that it was the thought of this hotel room with cool sheets, air conditioning and cable TV that kept me going in the jungle and on the last day of the MP trek. And I must say it's been nothing short of heaven here and it makes the thought of going back to hostal life very difficult. I can´t believe that we´re going to be in bunk beds tonight. argh. yes, yes, I know, poor louie. But one thing I am going to miss is rolling out of bed in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom. Obviously it's always a much bigger production in a dorm or tent. And every trek we do from now on will be that much harder.

We had no plans at all for Brazil, which is what we wanted since we were running around so much in Peru. We've pretty much been chilling out in Rio and not doing much of anything here and it's great. I didn't realize how hard Peru was on me until I got here. My body was constantly dealing with something, whether it be bug bites, allergic reactions or the altitude. And since we were running around so much, I was constantly tired and hungry (which Diane can attest to. And Diane thanks for putting up with me). But for the record, there is still something that is frigging biting me here. I've just accepted the fact that I'm gonna be itchy for the next six months.

Impressions of Rio

Okay, from everything I heard and read about Rio, I was expecting some kind of city under siege and from what I've seen so far, I think it's a beautiful city. It's incredibly green and bordered by beaches. But we've been playing it safe and taking cabs at night etc. and we've been warned by everyone, so clearly it's not all that rosy. But not as bad as I thought.

Simon's mom has a friend named Yolanda, in Rio and she took us on a tour of the town which included stopping by all these local designers that she knew. I definitely started feeling really shabby in my backpack, worn out tank top and skirt I got at the Title 9 warehouse sale. I did got my first bikini ever here. No one here wears a one piece suit and I figured this would be the one time in my life where I would ever wear one. I must say I appreciate the fact that Brazilians (and tourists) definitely aren't shy or ashamed of having tummies at all. That's the way it should be. But ironically, there are all these Victoria Secret ads in the airport with really unhealthly looking women. Boo!

La Comida

I'm looking forward to having some good food in Brazil. Peruvian food was pretty much okay. I loved the soups in that country, esp the quiona one, but other than that, the food there is pretty unremarkable. I am torn about going to a Churrascaria - an all you can eat brazillian BBQ place. I was planning on doing it, but it seems really excessive, and I am getting tired of meat all the time, but I have a feeling Clarence and some others wouldn't forgive us if we didn't go.

But I love the fact that there are juice stands on every street corner where you can just get a juice and a sandwich. I've definitely been pushing the envelope and eating more fruits and veggies here. But they've been delish!

Okay, I'm off to milk the last few hours of our room. Tomorrow, we're going to a beach town called Buzios for a few days and then we're headed north for Bahia and Salvador for a few weeks...

Macchu Pichu, Peru thoughts on the trek

Okay I´m obsessing over the prose again, and I just need to finish this entry...

So we just got back from walking the Inca Trail to Macchu Pichu (MP). It was my first trek ever and it feels good to have it under my belt, thought it will probably be the easiest one that I'll ever do (read: porters). I think Simon's gonna talk about most of the details of the trek, so I'll just skip to my thoughts.

Hooray for endorphins.

It was really, really, really, nice to finally be active. I feel like I've been slogging through everything since we've gotten to Peru. Our treks in the jungle were pretty laid back in terms of physical exertion, as we had to wait for our guides to hack through with machetes so it was slow going. And we were definitely a little slothy in Arequipa and Cusco as we adjusted to the altitude. (It's for real.) I definitely got a little bit of an exercise high these last few days. And it feels good. I was pretty sore by the last day. The third day was a lot of decending and I was so chicken shit about it, that it took me forever. It was like hours on end of pilates down these tiny inca steps. Hopefully Simon will upload a picture of these steps our guide called the "gringo killer."

And of course to add insult to injury, there was this aussie girl Joyce on our trek. She shows up for the trek in Lee jeans and a pair of trendy Adidas tennis shoes, and some book bag you would have used in high school. Me on the other hand, I've got all my REI schwag on, and we pretty much were going at the same pace more or less. I was undoubtedly more comfortable than her, and she definitely seemed worn out at times, but it didn't slow her down in terms of pace.

Getting there is more than half the fun

Don't get me wrong, MP was really nice, but honestly, it was really the process of getting there that I enjoyed. Simon and I weren't particularily excited to be seeing the ruins, not nearly as much as we thought. The valleys and mountains were beautiful. And for those of you how know me, will be surprised to hear that I had no problem getting up at 5 am in the morning everyday to start the trek. I loved the parts where I was walking alone and couldn't hear anyone.



I also had a great time climbing up Wynapicchu a hill next to MP. We were exhausted by the time we were done with the tour and we had a huge lunch which included a coca cola for me since I was so tired (we got up at 3:30 am to make sure we got to the peak of a mountain so we can see the sun rise over MP. And of course, it was completely foggy.) Armed with the caffiene we had about two hours to climb the mountain and make it back in time to catch the shuttle and train back to Cusco. I was pretty amped up as we climbed this moutain that was essentially Class 4 climbing - lots of scrambles and ropes and cable railings along the way. Simon went ahead and I tried my best to follow him. When we got to the top of the ruins, you really did feel like you were on top of the world. I am also slightly afraid of heights and we were sitting essentially on three slabs and nothing else and I started to freak out a little. It also started to rain, so we took a quick picture and then raced down the mountain to catch the bus. I am chicken shit on descents, but I was so worried about the bus that I raced to the end. The whole thing took an hour and a half and it was a pretty amazing adrenaline rush and one of my favorite parts of the who trek.

El Camino de las Incas

I´m actually writing this from our amazing Rio hotel...see next entry...

After acclimatizing for a couple of days in Cuzco, Peru Treks picked us up at 5:30am on Monday the 28th. Thoughts on the Inca Trail:

The Hike

Mileage was modest, averaging 5-7 miles a day. This gave us time to catch our breath from the altitude (around 12,000 feet at the highest pass), eat several multi-course meals, check out Incan sites, and hang out around camp at the end of the day. Our packs were super light compared to typical backpacking loads, since porters carried all the food and tents. Many people also hired personal porters to take clothing and sleeping bags, leaving them only with a small daypack. Most reasonably fit people would have no problem completing the trail, particularly with a personal porter. I saw trekkers from 15 to 60 years old.

The easy days also let us appreciate the incredible scenery: Cloud forests, snow capped glaciers, cold rushing rivers, ancient stone walls, perfect terraces along steep canyon walls, night skies full of southern constellations...By the end of the third day, I honestly didn´t care that much about Machu Picchu - the views on the way were enough for me.

The trail was so much fun that I could easily have kept on it for another day or two. In fact, if you like backpacking, I would consider one of the longer trips that go to alternative sites besides Machu Picchu. They would definitely be as beautiful and less traveled.

The Crowds

My only complaint about the trail was the sheer number of people on it. Rarely did I find myself alone, surrounded by 15 other group members and several other agencies. Water bottles, candy wrappers, and toilet paper were common sights on the path. Campsites were well established tent cities, all with running water.

Honestly, though, you can´t expect much alone time on a world-famous route that sees 500 people a day (a cap set by the Peruvian gov´t). All things considered, the trail was actually in pretty good shape. Our guides explained that clean-up programs limit the rubbish, and the well-developed lunch- and campsites helped limit our impact.



The Guides and Porters

Our guides, Washington and Efraím, showed nonstop enthusiasm, impressive since they do the trail 40 times a year. Washington, the head guide, had been working the trail for 10 years, reflected by his thorough knowledge of Incan history, enormous English vocabulary (spanning topics from archeology, astronomy, biology, etc.), and bizarre British accent.

The porters, however, are the real stars. These guys, who range from 18 to 55 years, carry over 50 lbs, easily over 1/3 of their body weight. (Porters are not allowed to carry more than 25 kilos, but often end up with more if the load is wet or if some hiker decides they can´t carry their stuff after all.) This load would be tough in a frame pack, but most use makeshift systems built from cloth sacks and straps. In every group, some poor bastard carried a propane tank (like the one attached to a gas grill) strapped to a folding aluminum stool. To make matters worse, none of them use hiking boots. Most wear light sneakers if they´re lucky (like Converse All-Stars) or rubber sandals.

They would leave camp after we did, beat us up the hill to the next site. We arrived to perfectly arranged tents, a dining table with place settings, and a hot meal. These guys anticipated every possible need, including zipping up rainflys during the showers, guarding our tents when we weren´t in them, showing us to our sites, greeting us with tea or coffee in our tents in the morning, boiling water for us to drink, etc.

Every meal had multiple courses with delicious veggie and meat entrees and several side dishes. Even on the last day, when we got up at 3:30 to hit Machu Picchu at sunrise, we enjoyed a hot breakfast. This service was waaaaay more elaborate than I expected, and took some getting used to. Compared to a normal backpacking trip, the Inca Trail was effortless and embarassingly luxurious, thanks to the porters.

All my comments about how reasonable the trail is obviously do not apply to porters. It´s easy to think that these guys are superhuman machines, used to the altitude and hard working conditions. But after speaking to a couple of them, it´s clear that the work beats them up. According to Washington, most porters go into it for lack of any other job options. They only do the trail 2-4 times a month because it wears down their bodies so much.

Peru Treks supposedly takes better care of their porters than other agencies, claiming to give them rain jackets and backpacks. But that didn´t seem to be the case on our trek, and at least one porter told me that all the agencies treat their porters more or less the same. It´s tough to sort out the economics and labor issues here as an outsider.

At the end of the trip we suffered through an awkward tipping ceremony, where I gave a "thank you" speech in stumbling Spanish. Basically, these guys work their asses off, letting us enjoy ourselves.



Our Group

The group of 16 (maximum size) was almost evenly split between Yanks and Brits, with a token Australian. This was a fun, young, energetic bunch of people.

Most conversations revolved around differences between Americans and Brits, including an extended dialog on how the Brits use their dining utensils. Bacially, they would build a little dam with meat at the end of the fork, then push the rice or potato onto the back of the fork. After watching one guy daintily assemble this engineering marvel, I decided it was way too complicated. (My dad, educated in London, tried to teach us this method in prepapration for our first trip to the States as kids. In the Philippines, we use forks and spoons, the only proper way to eat rice.)

The Characters

The 6 British Girls: Just out of Oxford, or "uni," these girls had been traveling thoughout South America. If you could somehow harness the girly energy from this group, you could power a small city. At one point, I was trapped behind them while they sang Christmas carols on the way down 3,000 stone steps. All smart and fun.

Alan and Jeannine: At 33 and 32, they were the old folks of the group. Alan showed a sharp Scottish sense of humor while Jeannine, the group´s lone vegetarian, would painfully try to determine if the soup had chicken stock at every meal. Of course it has chicken stock. Geez. I liked these two a lot and we´re hoping to meet up with them in Argentina. Also, they stayed an extra night at Machu Picchu and got engaged!

Peace Corps Buddies: Logan and John had just gotten out of 2 years in Honduras with the Peace Corps. Both great guys with good Spanish, but painful American accents. John had gotten food poisoning so many times in Honduras that he approached every unbottled beverage with fear. He called the chicha, a homemade beer which the porters would guzzle at reststops, "diarrhea in a cup." Logan would passionately discuss everything from crappy movies to his ayahuasca trip in Ecuador. "Does professional wrestling suck?" remained a bitter point of contention between these two. No, really, they were actually pretty bitter about it.

The Badgers: University of WI grads, Matt and Mike. About our age, with a fair amount of backpacking experience. Matt, however, was sick for the first two days, and even threw up on the trail. He refused to take a personal porter, though, and would gut his way up the hardest passes. Mike bore a strong resemblance to a young Dan Akroyd, right down to the Chicago accent. Really good guy. I suspect he had a crush on all the British girls.

Joyce, the Chinese Australian: Joyce had no backpacking experience and no proper gear. She hiked in fashion sneakers and tight jeans, always at the rear of the group. She barely complained, though, and even took an extra 2 hour hike to the top of another peak after we got to Machu Picchu.

In Sum

The trek was my favorite part of our trip thus far. Hard to believe we´ve only been gone for 3 weeks. Seems like forever.

Cuzco, Peru

Cruz del Sur II: Por la Ultima Vez, Usted No Tiene Bingo

We hopped a double decker Cruz del Sur bus from Arequipas to Cuzco, and opted for the highest possible class this time, not wanting to suffer another sleepless night on an Imperial coach. The food was notably better (macaroni, decent cake) and the seats reclined like business class airline chairs.

Here's what I've learned: On every Cruz del Sur ride, some backpacker thinks they've got bingo when they make a line across the board. They hesitantly hold up their card, only to be told that they need to black out the whole thing. I don´t know if it´s just understood that that's how bingo is played in Peru or if tourists just regularly miss the announcement in Spanish.

On our Arequipas-Cuzco ride, the guy in front of me got his "bingo" and pressed the call button excitedly. The stewardess, who was in the upper deck at the time, gave a bored reminder on the PA system that you have to black out the whole card. The tourist failed to grasp the concept, and left his call button on, forcing the stewardess to come down and dismiss him in person. In talking with two other backpackers on the Inca Trail, I found that they both thought they had bingo and were rebuffed on their respective bus rides. I did the same thing on my first ride. I'm not sure if I feel better or dumber after learning that it happens all the time.



Thoughts on Cuzco

For the first time since departing SF, we managed to spend two nights in a row in the same place. It's quite a treat to do laundry and not have to pack everything up in the morning.

We spent the first day in town dealing with logistics for our upcoming Inca Trail hike. Our friend, Diane, fresh from Santiago, Chile, met up with us to do the 4-day trek, and we napped at our hostel waiting for her to arrive. In the afternoon, we cruised the Central Market and local roast chicken district.

(Another random observation: store types in Peru seem to cluster, so you can find multiple places selling chicken, wedding cakes, candles, window frames, etc. all on the same block. I'm keeping my eyes open for the hammock district.)

Cuzco is the most touristy of all the places we've visited, with hordes of backpackers and sightseers everywhere, aggressive touts trying to lure passers-by into restaurants, and Inca Kola t-shirts and stuffed llama dolls in every stall. Hand-sewn water bottle holders are another sure sign of a tourist mecca in Peru. The vendors also speak better English, used to haggling with hundreds of tourists over the years.

Despite this tackiness, Cuzco maintains some dignity with its sprawling Plaza de Armas, imposing cathedral, and great mix of colonial and pre-colonial architecture. Amazing Incan ruins are scattered throughout the city. The history here is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

My favorite historical feature of Cuzco is the Last Supper in the cathderal. In it, Christ and the apostles are settling down to a nice meal of roasted guinea pig, a local delicacy.

Hostel Loki: The Commonwealth in Cuzco

Upon recommendation from a Brit in Arequipas, we stayed at Hostel Loki, a new joint up a steep staircase just a few blocks from the center of town. We had heard that it was a "party hostel," which sounded appealing after feeling left out of the bar-club scene in the last few cities we've visited.

Loki´s owners established the hostel in a rehabbed historic building which remains rough around the edges. Still, they´ve managed to draw hordes of backpackers exclusively through word of mouth among Australian, Irish, and British backpackers throughout South America. The place gets rave reviews on the internet, thanks to its bar, three free computers, British football matches on cable TV, and organized BBQs, Sunday roasts, and other common meals. To their credit, the owners run the hostel incredibly well, and have a great staff.

For me, though, the place is far too removed from Peruvian life. The clients and owners exist in a cliquey Commonwealth bubble, spending their nights at the hostel bar or in the local Irish pub. I get the impression that most people speak little to no Spanish and maintain a healthy distance from any eatery that could threaten their digestive tracts. I definitely understand the urge for familiar surroundings after months of traveling, but I haven't gotten to that point yet.

Food

I have to admit I´m getting tired of Peruvian fare. The usual choices are tourist restaurants serving pizza and Peruvian highlights or local-oriented roast chicken joints. I´m looking forward to new cuisine in Rio, as well as some old favorites like Japanese food.



Thus far, I´ve been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, enjoying fresh fruit smoothies from the market, beef heart sticks on the street, and other high-risk/high-reward foods. This has led to a mild case of the runs, but nothing like the hell other travellers seem to experience. Just now, the girls waiting for the computer are lamenting their respective digestive woes. I also just learned that some guy shit his bed last night in the common dormitory, although that may be more of an alcohol than food poisoning issue.