There is nothing like an impromptu guitar session with strangers to liven up a room. On our last night in Paraty, we were just hanging around when we were surrounded by Leo, a native Brazlian (more to come on him) and some other hostellers. They banged out some pretty cool tunes late into the night and proceeded to the obvious next step of beach bonfire, which we only found out about after. Still loads of fun though.
Paraty to Sao Paulo is a 6 hour bus-ride. Sao Paulo is the biggest city in Brazil and South America. My assumptions of Sao Paulo were that it was big and dirty and not really for tourists. I was very wrong. What a beautiful city. Expensive, but a very nice city indeed. We spent two nights in a hostel called Casa Club, which funny enough, was run by Leo, the fellow playing guitar in Paraty. He was a great guy and helped us out with a lot. The only thing he f`d up on was the bus tickets to Iguazu, which I will get to. There was a Canadian couple in the hostel we stayed at. They were from Calgary. We were all anxious to watch the hocley game between Canada and the USA. As luck would have it, as soon as the game started, they lost the satellite feed. I went on a run down the street where there are plenty of bars trying to find the game. Not only did I find the game, they were showing outsside a sportsbar on a massive big-screen. Seriously, I have never even seen this size of screen televise a hockey game in Canada, let alone Brazil. When Canada scored, I was the only person n the street jumping and shouting. I got some laughs from locals as I pointed out to them that I was obviously Canadian.
Jack and I left Sao Paulo on a 18 hour overnight bus to Foz do Iguazu. Leo told us that we could show up at 6 and get the 8 o`clock bus no problem. As luck would have it, that was not the case. The 8 o`clock bus was full. The 11 o`clock bus was also full. We tried another company with one bus at 8:30 and again, no dice. We finally found a third company who said they had seats at 10 o`clock, but that we had to travel back accross the city to another bus station where we could then buy tickets. After running around the city on the buses, taxis and metro, we finally made it on the bus and left for Foz do Iguazu. These are the megafalls that are nestled between Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. The best side to see the falls from is the Argentine side. So after spending 18 hours on the bus with crying, vomiting 1 year olds in front of us and then riding public transit sans air-conditioning, we finally arrived at our destination that is Puerto Iguazu, Argentina later Tuesday afternoon. When you arrive at a destination after a trek like that and get a nice shower and some food in you, it makes it all so worth it. The hostel is pretty cool. It is actually a chain of hostels called Che Lagarto and I plan on staying in them again as I cross South America.
Yesterday, we visited the Falls. Again, I will try to describe them to you, but I would only doing it a diservice. These falls are absolutely stunning. Jaw-dropping. Silencing. They make Niagara Falls look like a leaky urinal stall. No offence Niagara.
As you take one of the lower interior trails, you get up close and personal with the Falls and can only then truly appreciate how awesomely powerful and beautiful they are. Well worth getting soaked to get down there. It was pissing rain yesterday, but the sun did come up just as we approached the lower platform. This gave us an awesome rainbow arching over the bowl of the Falls, truly the silver lining of the day.
After visiting the lower trails, Jack had to take off. He left for Buenos Aires yesterday on a 20 hour bus ride. People in Canada cringe when you say 16 or 18 or 20 hour bus ride, but the buses here are very comfortable and all have reclining seats with air conditioning. It was cool to travel with Jack for a bit. Things are sometimes easier when in groups. So, I pushed on myself to see the other corner of the Falls. Up on top, you can take a train and then another 15 minute walk across the rivers to get to the main attraction, Garganta de Diablo (Devils` thoat). Again, the beauty of it is simply indescribable. I had a gold Brazilian coin in my pocket, so I flicked it over the edge as a symbol of gratitude and also as a wish.
Today was spent just hanging by the pool and chillng out before I embark on another long bus-ride, back up into South Central Brazil. This is Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso do Sur states that include the Pantanal. The pantanal I consider as the Amazin`s younger brother. Campo Grande and Corumba is where I hope to organize a 3-5 day trek into the jungle and put my Algonquin skills to the test - No jokes please, Tim. Thanks.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
I survived Carnaval/2010.......Barely!
I know it has been a while since I last posted, due mostly to the inebriated state I found myself and friends in while participating in the much-renowned party of the year - Carnaval.
I left Costa Rica and flew overnight through Miami, arriving in Rio around 8am. Rio is an intimidating city at first glance. I think I crapped myself twice in the taxi from the airport to Santa Teresa, where I was booked in to stay for the week. The cabbies, or any driver for that matter, are all nuts. This is coming from the guy who falls into the category of a classic Montreal driver. I got to my guesthouse around 9am and was greeted by a less than friendly host named Clara. Clara was insulted that I came to Brazil and did not speak portuguese. Spanish will get you nowhere in Brazil - even though the language seems very close. I was pissed off, so I called around last-minute to find some hostels in other parts of the city. As you can imagine, the prices are through the roof for that particular week because of the carnaval. Rio took my budget for a nice stroll over the bridge and then just threw her right off the bridge!
Money aside, I just had the best week of my life. I would be doing Carnaval an insult by even trying to describe this party to you. I mean, 5am is an early night. Ipanema is the hostel/beach district where I stayed and met several other travellers. My first night, I met two Dutch fellows and two English fellows. We decided to go for dinner at this place called Carretao (I can`t seem to find the accents on this keyboard, but there is a wave over the `o`). It is an all-you-can-eat buffet where you fill your plate with the obvious usual fixings. Then, the waiters come around the restaurant with huge masses of beef, chicken, pork, sausage, lamb, all spiced and rotisseried, slicing them off onto your plate. 2 beers included $30CAD, not too bad.
I spent the next day just chilling out on the beach as I was still kind of tired from the flight. We met this English bloke, Jay, who now has a wife in Brazil. He runs tours in the city. Everything from football games to Favella (Shanty towns) tours and brothel tours - No, I did not participate in the latter. He took us to the Favella around the Ipanema point, called Cochina. We were taken up the hill on motorbikes (no helmet of course as this is the Favellas) where we met some local guys just drinking and puffing near our starting point. It is sort of an anomoly. The guys had visible guns on them, but at the same time, they were the nicest people and really appreciated us being there and chilling with them. Our walk took us through the Favella, where Betto, Jay`s local friend, would explain different things about the city. Betto is also the postman in the Favella. Since there are no fixed addresses in the Favellas - nor are many babies accounted for in the population simply because of the way these neighbourhoods have evolved - Betto knows everyone in his district by first name and delivers their mail based on their family name, which gives him the approximate location of the destined receiver. After the Favella, we met Jay`s Columbian friend, Charlito. He ended up coming out with us to endulge in the festivities of the first night of Carnaval, 2010.
Friday night came and Carnaval was officially on! We (myself and about 20 others from the hostel) decided to take in the Lappa Blocos. Lappa is another neighbourhood in Rio and Blocos means means block party. There were 1 million people in the streets that night, all dancing and singing and partying. Our crew sort of split up, as often happens, and we ended up claiming a nice grassy part of the park where we had a big pow-wow. We walked around the streets for a bit and then 5 of decided to head back to the hostel and to the beach in search of sunrise. Watching a sunrise after a night of partying, listening to chill tunes with new friends was a definite highlight along my trek so far.
So, Saturday comes along. Time to re-hydrate and carb-up for what seems to be another another oncoming shit show. We didn`t think the night was going anywhere when all of a sudden we hear in the distance some music thumping. We head to the beach, following the musc like a bunch of zombies after Woody Harrelson (sorry, I just watched Zombieland) and found a huge beach rave taking place right on Ipanema beach. So, we spent the night on the beach partying. Don`t mind all the gay boys kissing and playing with each other. Rio is a very welcoming city for gays and lesbians, especially during Carnaval. Be prepared to see shit you have never or may never see again, because you will see all kinds of everything.
Sunday... I think, we went to the Sambodrome. Samba music and dance in Brazil is absolutely huge. It is their hockey you could say. Becoming a good Samba dancer is a way out of poverty for many young children living in the Favellas. The Sambodrome Sunday night parade is the main event. People work on their costumes, floats and dances, all year long for a chance to show them off and hopefully get recognized by the judges for their efforts. All Samba schools however, do get some funding simply for participating in the event, which is a good geture and ensures that less fortunate people can enjoyt the national passtime like all the rest. We did not go into the Sambodrome as the ticket prices were astronomical. We just did what the locals did and spent our time in the `free area` just checking out the costumes and floats just as they entered the grand stage. After the parade, people just throw their costumes down. It`s amazing, they just throw them down like a bag of rubbish - garbage, sorry, for the North Americans reading. So, we proceeded to do our part for the environment and clean up a bit. We all took costumes and paraded around town for a while with them. I was contemplating mailing mine home, but allas, no dice.
Monday and Tuesday were relatively quiet nights. Remember what a quiet nght means in Rio. Only a dozen drinks and in bed by 5. Wednesday, Jack and I had tickets to the Rio state footbal semi-finals between Flamenco (you may recognize that name as they are the rich club in Rio) and Botafogo, the working class team - my team. I had to be careful about cheering when Botafogo scored an upset win as the fans around me would have certainly not let me leave with all my limbs. One guy was so pissed, he ripped out the seat in front of him, a seat that is bolted to cement. I felt like I was part of a roman phalynx before the game. These people sing, wave, and drum their way into the stadium and do not stop until the game is over. If they win, they keep going long into the night. Another early night got us in bed by 3 and then up at 7 to get the bus to Paraty, a small fishing village 4 hours south of Rio along the coast. Paraty was a nice place to go and chill out on the beach for a couple days. We met up with Rich and Jules, two other Brits we met in Rio. We got detoxed in Paraty before heading to Sao Paulo.
ps. This post may seem a little point-form in some spots, only because there was so much to tell.
I left Costa Rica and flew overnight through Miami, arriving in Rio around 8am. Rio is an intimidating city at first glance. I think I crapped myself twice in the taxi from the airport to Santa Teresa, where I was booked in to stay for the week. The cabbies, or any driver for that matter, are all nuts. This is coming from the guy who falls into the category of a classic Montreal driver. I got to my guesthouse around 9am and was greeted by a less than friendly host named Clara. Clara was insulted that I came to Brazil and did not speak portuguese. Spanish will get you nowhere in Brazil - even though the language seems very close. I was pissed off, so I called around last-minute to find some hostels in other parts of the city. As you can imagine, the prices are through the roof for that particular week because of the carnaval. Rio took my budget for a nice stroll over the bridge and then just threw her right off the bridge!
Money aside, I just had the best week of my life. I would be doing Carnaval an insult by even trying to describe this party to you. I mean, 5am is an early night. Ipanema is the hostel/beach district where I stayed and met several other travellers. My first night, I met two Dutch fellows and two English fellows. We decided to go for dinner at this place called Carretao (I can`t seem to find the accents on this keyboard, but there is a wave over the `o`). It is an all-you-can-eat buffet where you fill your plate with the obvious usual fixings. Then, the waiters come around the restaurant with huge masses of beef, chicken, pork, sausage, lamb, all spiced and rotisseried, slicing them off onto your plate. 2 beers included $30CAD, not too bad.
I spent the next day just chilling out on the beach as I was still kind of tired from the flight. We met this English bloke, Jay, who now has a wife in Brazil. He runs tours in the city. Everything from football games to Favella (Shanty towns) tours and brothel tours - No, I did not participate in the latter. He took us to the Favella around the Ipanema point, called Cochina. We were taken up the hill on motorbikes (no helmet of course as this is the Favellas) where we met some local guys just drinking and puffing near our starting point. It is sort of an anomoly. The guys had visible guns on them, but at the same time, they were the nicest people and really appreciated us being there and chilling with them. Our walk took us through the Favella, where Betto, Jay`s local friend, would explain different things about the city. Betto is also the postman in the Favella. Since there are no fixed addresses in the Favellas - nor are many babies accounted for in the population simply because of the way these neighbourhoods have evolved - Betto knows everyone in his district by first name and delivers their mail based on their family name, which gives him the approximate location of the destined receiver. After the Favella, we met Jay`s Columbian friend, Charlito. He ended up coming out with us to endulge in the festivities of the first night of Carnaval, 2010.
Friday night came and Carnaval was officially on! We (myself and about 20 others from the hostel) decided to take in the Lappa Blocos. Lappa is another neighbourhood in Rio and Blocos means means block party. There were 1 million people in the streets that night, all dancing and singing and partying. Our crew sort of split up, as often happens, and we ended up claiming a nice grassy part of the park where we had a big pow-wow. We walked around the streets for a bit and then 5 of decided to head back to the hostel and to the beach in search of sunrise. Watching a sunrise after a night of partying, listening to chill tunes with new friends was a definite highlight along my trek so far.
So, Saturday comes along. Time to re-hydrate and carb-up for what seems to be another another oncoming shit show. We didn`t think the night was going anywhere when all of a sudden we hear in the distance some music thumping. We head to the beach, following the musc like a bunch of zombies after Woody Harrelson (sorry, I just watched Zombieland) and found a huge beach rave taking place right on Ipanema beach. So, we spent the night on the beach partying. Don`t mind all the gay boys kissing and playing with each other. Rio is a very welcoming city for gays and lesbians, especially during Carnaval. Be prepared to see shit you have never or may never see again, because you will see all kinds of everything.
Sunday... I think, we went to the Sambodrome. Samba music and dance in Brazil is absolutely huge. It is their hockey you could say. Becoming a good Samba dancer is a way out of poverty for many young children living in the Favellas. The Sambodrome Sunday night parade is the main event. People work on their costumes, floats and dances, all year long for a chance to show them off and hopefully get recognized by the judges for their efforts. All Samba schools however, do get some funding simply for participating in the event, which is a good geture and ensures that less fortunate people can enjoyt the national passtime like all the rest. We did not go into the Sambodrome as the ticket prices were astronomical. We just did what the locals did and spent our time in the `free area` just checking out the costumes and floats just as they entered the grand stage. After the parade, people just throw their costumes down. It`s amazing, they just throw them down like a bag of rubbish - garbage, sorry, for the North Americans reading. So, we proceeded to do our part for the environment and clean up a bit. We all took costumes and paraded around town for a while with them. I was contemplating mailing mine home, but allas, no dice.
Monday and Tuesday were relatively quiet nights. Remember what a quiet nght means in Rio. Only a dozen drinks and in bed by 5. Wednesday, Jack and I had tickets to the Rio state footbal semi-finals between Flamenco (you may recognize that name as they are the rich club in Rio) and Botafogo, the working class team - my team. I had to be careful about cheering when Botafogo scored an upset win as the fans around me would have certainly not let me leave with all my limbs. One guy was so pissed, he ripped out the seat in front of him, a seat that is bolted to cement. I felt like I was part of a roman phalynx before the game. These people sing, wave, and drum their way into the stadium and do not stop until the game is over. If they win, they keep going long into the night. Another early night got us in bed by 3 and then up at 7 to get the bus to Paraty, a small fishing village 4 hours south of Rio along the coast. Paraty was a nice place to go and chill out on the beach for a couple days. We met up with Rich and Jules, two other Brits we met in Rio. We got detoxed in Paraty before heading to Sao Paulo.
ps. This post may seem a little point-form in some spots, only because there was so much to tell.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
PURA-VIDA! (Turrialba, San Jose & Dominical)
My last night in Samara was also Toronto John's last night in Samara. he is a painter from Toronto who comes down and rents a house for a couple months a year. We had a bbq at his place with a few neighbours, mostly Canadians either visiting or living in the neighbourhood. Grilled pineapple, spicey quesadilla rollups (amazing), Fish, rice, chicken, salads and a sort of rhum/fruit/candy cake. I think I had 7 servings in all.
Once I arrived in Sj, I met a couple guys from NYC. We headed up to a less-than-touristy part of town past Guadalupe and up the Central Valley a few kms. The view of San Jose from up there is amazing - more to come on that.
I took the direct bus to Turrialba last Monday and met Massi, Marvin's cousin, at his office. He took me to his place to get settled. That evening we had Tuna sushi and a couple bottles of wine, while listening to Bob Marley and other Central-American and Carribean artists with two of Massi's friends, Mario and Anna-Maria. It's hard not to get into the vibe of the Latin/Carribean music down here. There are so many talented artists from Jamaica, to El Salvador, to Costa Rica and South America. The next morning, I headed out on a rafting expedition with Massi's outfit, Explornatura. They are the leading outfit in Turrialba for rafting. The town of Turrialba is also hosting the rafting World Cup later this year. Massi is well-connected as he is the president of the Chambre of Tourism of Turrialba. We rafted mostly class III and a couple class IV and our full day trip also included a fabulous shore lunch.
Massi has business is Dominical (Central Pacific coast), so I hopped in the car for the ride and we spent two days there. The first night was spent having beers with a few random Americans and El Salvadorians (sp?) on the beach. With not much sleep in me, I spent all of Friday lying on the beach and generally doing nothing. Friday night, we had a riverside BBQ at Chappy and Andrea's place, Massi's business partners. Our BBQ consisted of freshly caught Mahi Mahi, marinated in a fruity, spicey blend 'a la Chappy' with roasted potatoes and cooked over a grill overlooking the river - Best meal I have had so far hands down.
Early yesterday morning, we left Dominical for San Jose. I wish I could put into words the sights we saw along the way. The Pan-American highway runs through the southern central valley - This is the same chain of mountains connecting with the Andes. To the north, above San Jose, the Central Valley mountains connect with the same Rocky Mountains that wind their way up to BC. The highway winds its way through Central Costa Rica, above the cloud line and eventually to the top of Costa Rica, 3500m up. On a clear day, you can hike another couple hundred meters up and if there are no clouds in the sky, you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. The view is jaw-dropping. I am having trouble uploading pics, but be sure to have a look at them when they are eventually posted.
I am hopefully going to meet up with Dave, Marvin and Johnny today as we have all been sort of off the radar the last few days. It is election fever in the city as their presidential elections are being held today and people are taking to the streets. They sure take their elections seriously around here. The honking and chanting goes all day long and through the night.
As I prepare to leave Costa Rica behind and I think about all that I have done in the past three weeks and all the people I have met. One word sums it all up. Pura Vida! Literally translated it means Pure Life. Ticos use this word when they meet someone from another country to say welcome. It also means cheers, high-five, no worries, good times. But most of all, it means live life to the fullest and live it now. Pura Vida!
Onto Rio de Janeiro Tuesday with a mild stop-over in Miami. Viva Carnaval!
Once I arrived in Sj, I met a couple guys from NYC. We headed up to a less-than-touristy part of town past Guadalupe and up the Central Valley a few kms. The view of San Jose from up there is amazing - more to come on that.
I took the direct bus to Turrialba last Monday and met Massi, Marvin's cousin, at his office. He took me to his place to get settled. That evening we had Tuna sushi and a couple bottles of wine, while listening to Bob Marley and other Central-American and Carribean artists with two of Massi's friends, Mario and Anna-Maria. It's hard not to get into the vibe of the Latin/Carribean music down here. There are so many talented artists from Jamaica, to El Salvador, to Costa Rica and South America. The next morning, I headed out on a rafting expedition with Massi's outfit, Explornatura. They are the leading outfit in Turrialba for rafting. The town of Turrialba is also hosting the rafting World Cup later this year. Massi is well-connected as he is the president of the Chambre of Tourism of Turrialba. We rafted mostly class III and a couple class IV and our full day trip also included a fabulous shore lunch.
Massi has business is Dominical (Central Pacific coast), so I hopped in the car for the ride and we spent two days there. The first night was spent having beers with a few random Americans and El Salvadorians (sp?) on the beach. With not much sleep in me, I spent all of Friday lying on the beach and generally doing nothing. Friday night, we had a riverside BBQ at Chappy and Andrea's place, Massi's business partners. Our BBQ consisted of freshly caught Mahi Mahi, marinated in a fruity, spicey blend 'a la Chappy' with roasted potatoes and cooked over a grill overlooking the river - Best meal I have had so far hands down.
Early yesterday morning, we left Dominical for San Jose. I wish I could put into words the sights we saw along the way. The Pan-American highway runs through the southern central valley - This is the same chain of mountains connecting with the Andes. To the north, above San Jose, the Central Valley mountains connect with the same Rocky Mountains that wind their way up to BC. The highway winds its way through Central Costa Rica, above the cloud line and eventually to the top of Costa Rica, 3500m up. On a clear day, you can hike another couple hundred meters up and if there are no clouds in the sky, you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. The view is jaw-dropping. I am having trouble uploading pics, but be sure to have a look at them when they are eventually posted.
I am hopefully going to meet up with Dave, Marvin and Johnny today as we have all been sort of off the radar the last few days. It is election fever in the city as their presidential elections are being held today and people are taking to the streets. They sure take their elections seriously around here. The honking and chanting goes all day long and through the night.
As I prepare to leave Costa Rica behind and I think about all that I have done in the past three weeks and all the people I have met. One word sums it all up. Pura Vida! Literally translated it means Pure Life. Ticos use this word when they meet someone from another country to say welcome. It also means cheers, high-five, no worries, good times. But most of all, it means live life to the fullest and live it now. Pura Vida!
Onto Rio de Janeiro Tuesday with a mild stop-over in Miami. Viva Carnaval!
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