Saturday, August 7, 2010
Juiz de Fora
I arrived in Juiz de Fora last night. Leo, Marcelo's boyfriend picked me up at the bus station. We stopped by the grocery to buy some food. I bought a whole chicken wihch I thought seemed really large, but it was very cheap. I wanted to cook a lunch for us today, a meal in one pot. Black beans, chicken, some veggies and rice. I only used part of the chicken to cook with the rice. I used the wings, legs, back, neck, head, feet, liver and gizzards. I have seen chicken feet sold in packages so I assume people eat them or maybe they cook with them to give flavor to other dishes. Perhaps twenty feet per package. The chicken I bought still had the feet and head attached. There might be a little meat and brain on the toes and around the beak including the mohawk (for lack of a better term) chickens have on the top of their heads. Anyone know what the mohawk is called? As I opened the chicken, it was interesting to see these different features not customarily found in the USA. The little eyes, pointed beak, the mohawk, the toes about as long as my thumb, the tongue limply protruding from its beak. This might prove to be a tasty meal. I'm sure it will taste like chicken. I remember eating cow tongue as a child but never a chicken tongue. I'll try anything.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Host Family
The propriator at the Hostel here is from Pennsylvania. I asked his advice on common Brazilian letter salutations. I had been in contact through email with a possible Host Family in Juiz de Fora. Each time he wrote an email, he would close with "abraco" (a hug). I wondered if he was gay. Brian at the hostel told me not to worry about it (I wasn't worried, just curious) that this is a common salutation without definition of sexual orientation. Before meeting the possible host, through emails, we made brief introductions, Marcelo has given interest to the local university in hosting a foreign exchange student. This will be his first time. He told me he has a two bedroom apartment with a roommate who is gone during the week working in another city and arrives on the weekends.
Marcelo and I met yesterday at the Rio central bus station. He is a general practioner family doctor and has been practicing medicine for 14 years, he is 39. He graduated from the same school I will be attending in Juiz de Fora. He is on vacation for the next week and was passing through the central bus station, Rodoviaria on his way to the Bazilian state of Bahia, to a city called Salvador (2000 km north of Rio). We talked in the bus station for about 1.5 hours. Marcelo appears to be very laid back and quiet. I feel he and I would get along very well over my four month stay in Juiz de Fora. Marcelo said he had a concern about hosting a student in his home. Marcelo is gay, his roommate, Leo is his boyfriend. I told him this was of no concern to me as long as he had no problem with me being a heterosexual. He didn't.
While at the bus station, we talked about each other in very casual converstaion. Marcelo speaks almost no English so this was my first converstion with a true Brazilian outside of class. He told me my Portuguese sounded good. During the conversation, he helped me with my conjugations and pronunciations helping me to repeat several sentences until they were correct. He seemed intent on helping me learn Portuguese as he had stated in a previous email. I have been using Google Translate for correspondence with him. Marcelo has many heterosexual friends and almost no gay friends. He said I would have a great opportunity to meet and become friends with many other local Brazilians as he and Leo are very much socially involved in the community.
Marcelo will not be back until Aug. 9, two or three days after I arrive in JF. His boyfriend, Leo will be meeting me at the JF bus station when I arrive next weekend. they live only a five minute bus ride from the university, a huge difference from the 45 minutes on good commutes to the university here in Rio. Marcelo has a two bedroom apartment. I will have the second bedroom with a private bathroom. He wants to buy a bed for the bedroom as currently there is only a mattress on the floor and a desk with his computer. I told him I would feel just as comfortable with the mattress on the floor as I would be with a bed. He also mentioned buying a dresser for my stuff until I mentioned how little I am carrying here in Brazil.
Tonight at the hostel is the weekly Sunday night Beer-B-Que. Grilled food, salad, sub rolls and beer. All you can eat and drink for R$15. I've already paid my dues. Being a school night, I'll only drink a few beers. Last week's Caiprinha (the sugar cane liquor drink) class was canceled and postponed until Friday night. I had yet to join in one of the classes until Friday night because of not wanting to cunsume sugar cane liquor on a school night. The class where the pool table is covered with many fresh fruits such as: pineapple, lime, strawberries, bananas, watermelon, maracuja (passion fruit which resembles a large handfull of tadpole eggs) sugar, Cachasa (the sugar cane liquor) ice and a cutting board with knife on each side of the pooltable. The pooltable is first draped in black plastic then a tablecloth. No wonder the pooltable is in such a state of dissrepair including many dark stains on what once resembled the felt. All you can make and drink for only R$5. The cheap cachasa only costs just under R$4 (US$2) for 750 ml bottle. On this night, Brian, the host had bought a higher grade costing R$5 per 750 ml bottle. I drank my limit which was the amount where I stopped in order to keep form having a hangover the next morning.
I was up till 0300 Saturday morning and woke at 0715 to go on a hike with the two other young women staying here at the hostel. One from Finland and the other from France, both speaking English. A hike starting at sea level to the Christ the Redeemer statue. A hike which started off gradual but quickly turned steep with many roots in the trail acting as irregular steps and hand holds to pull yourself up, a very challenging trail but worth the hike. There was even a rock scramble which I don't think I could have done had there not been a rope and chain to hold onto for assistance. This section was covered in about 5 minutes. None of us wanting to pay the taxi fare down, we decided to hitchhike down the 7 km (roughly 4.2 miles). Halfway down, a brazilian stopped. The two girls had given up hitchhiking but I kept up my persistance. He dropped the two girls off first where they could get a bus back to the hostel then, later dropped me off at another bus stop where I could get to the Rodoviaria (central bus Station). Scheduled to meet Marcelo there at 1600, I arrived at the Rodoviaria at 1555. His bus was late arriving, we didn't meet until 30 minutes later.
While at the Rodoviaria, there was some well dressed nut bothering all the travelers in the surrounding area, although I couldn't decipher what he was saying. He had a couple peices of paper in his hands paperclipped together. An older man probably 75 all dressed in white. He seemed very persistant in talking to everyone in the vicinity but me. About 10 minutes after Marcelo arrived, this nut stepped between Marcelo and I intently talking to me. I still could not understand what he was saying but as Marcelo and I tried to walk away, he stayed there between us and he appeared to be getting angry. At one point, Marcelo used his forefinger to circle his ear telling me this man was crazy then said aloud in words I could understand that we were going to find the police to get this persistant man to leave us alone. He followed us talking loudly the hole way and staying between Marcelo and I, he was really getting on my nerves as I felt like pushing him away, but didn't. In the distance, when the first group of police came into view, whatever the man wanted, he turned and disappeared. He stayed with us, between us and mostly talking to me for at least 10 minutes even though I told him several times I didn't understand what he was saying.
Marcelo wrote me an email last night telling me various things about the apartment, computer with broadband, telephone with local calls, the kitchen, the area around his apartment, his expectations on cleanliness etc... asking me for any concerns and questions I may have. In my first paragraph before asking my questions and responding to his statements, I asked what the confrontation was all about with the older man. I'll translate his response and let you know.
Eric
Marcelo and I met yesterday at the Rio central bus station. He is a general practioner family doctor and has been practicing medicine for 14 years, he is 39. He graduated from the same school I will be attending in Juiz de Fora. He is on vacation for the next week and was passing through the central bus station, Rodoviaria on his way to the Bazilian state of Bahia, to a city called Salvador (2000 km north of Rio). We talked in the bus station for about 1.5 hours. Marcelo appears to be very laid back and quiet. I feel he and I would get along very well over my four month stay in Juiz de Fora. Marcelo said he had a concern about hosting a student in his home. Marcelo is gay, his roommate, Leo is his boyfriend. I told him this was of no concern to me as long as he had no problem with me being a heterosexual. He didn't.
While at the bus station, we talked about each other in very casual converstaion. Marcelo speaks almost no English so this was my first converstion with a true Brazilian outside of class. He told me my Portuguese sounded good. During the conversation, he helped me with my conjugations and pronunciations helping me to repeat several sentences until they were correct. He seemed intent on helping me learn Portuguese as he had stated in a previous email. I have been using Google Translate for correspondence with him. Marcelo has many heterosexual friends and almost no gay friends. He said I would have a great opportunity to meet and become friends with many other local Brazilians as he and Leo are very much socially involved in the community.
Marcelo will not be back until Aug. 9, two or three days after I arrive in JF. His boyfriend, Leo will be meeting me at the JF bus station when I arrive next weekend. they live only a five minute bus ride from the university, a huge difference from the 45 minutes on good commutes to the university here in Rio. Marcelo has a two bedroom apartment. I will have the second bedroom with a private bathroom. He wants to buy a bed for the bedroom as currently there is only a mattress on the floor and a desk with his computer. I told him I would feel just as comfortable with the mattress on the floor as I would be with a bed. He also mentioned buying a dresser for my stuff until I mentioned how little I am carrying here in Brazil.
Tonight at the hostel is the weekly Sunday night Beer-B-Que. Grilled food, salad, sub rolls and beer. All you can eat and drink for R$15. I've already paid my dues. Being a school night, I'll only drink a few beers. Last week's Caiprinha (the sugar cane liquor drink) class was canceled and postponed until Friday night. I had yet to join in one of the classes until Friday night because of not wanting to cunsume sugar cane liquor on a school night. The class where the pool table is covered with many fresh fruits such as: pineapple, lime, strawberries, bananas, watermelon, maracuja (passion fruit which resembles a large handfull of tadpole eggs) sugar, Cachasa (the sugar cane liquor) ice and a cutting board with knife on each side of the pooltable. The pooltable is first draped in black plastic then a tablecloth. No wonder the pooltable is in such a state of dissrepair including many dark stains on what once resembled the felt. All you can make and drink for only R$5. The cheap cachasa only costs just under R$4 (US$2) for 750 ml bottle. On this night, Brian, the host had bought a higher grade costing R$5 per 750 ml bottle. I drank my limit which was the amount where I stopped in order to keep form having a hangover the next morning.
I was up till 0300 Saturday morning and woke at 0715 to go on a hike with the two other young women staying here at the hostel. One from Finland and the other from France, both speaking English. A hike starting at sea level to the Christ the Redeemer statue. A hike which started off gradual but quickly turned steep with many roots in the trail acting as irregular steps and hand holds to pull yourself up, a very challenging trail but worth the hike. There was even a rock scramble which I don't think I could have done had there not been a rope and chain to hold onto for assistance. This section was covered in about 5 minutes. None of us wanting to pay the taxi fare down, we decided to hitchhike down the 7 km (roughly 4.2 miles). Halfway down, a brazilian stopped. The two girls had given up hitchhiking but I kept up my persistance. He dropped the two girls off first where they could get a bus back to the hostel then, later dropped me off at another bus stop where I could get to the Rodoviaria (central bus Station). Scheduled to meet Marcelo there at 1600, I arrived at the Rodoviaria at 1555. His bus was late arriving, we didn't meet until 30 minutes later.
While at the Rodoviaria, there was some well dressed nut bothering all the travelers in the surrounding area, although I couldn't decipher what he was saying. He had a couple peices of paper in his hands paperclipped together. An older man probably 75 all dressed in white. He seemed very persistant in talking to everyone in the vicinity but me. About 10 minutes after Marcelo arrived, this nut stepped between Marcelo and I intently talking to me. I still could not understand what he was saying but as Marcelo and I tried to walk away, he stayed there between us and he appeared to be getting angry. At one point, Marcelo used his forefinger to circle his ear telling me this man was crazy then said aloud in words I could understand that we were going to find the police to get this persistant man to leave us alone. He followed us talking loudly the hole way and staying between Marcelo and I, he was really getting on my nerves as I felt like pushing him away, but didn't. In the distance, when the first group of police came into view, whatever the man wanted, he turned and disappeared. He stayed with us, between us and mostly talking to me for at least 10 minutes even though I told him several times I didn't understand what he was saying.
Marcelo wrote me an email last night telling me various things about the apartment, computer with broadband, telephone with local calls, the kitchen, the area around his apartment, his expectations on cleanliness etc... asking me for any concerns and questions I may have. In my first paragraph before asking my questions and responding to his statements, I asked what the confrontation was all about with the older man. I'll translate his response and let you know.
Eric
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Hiking
Hi all,
One week of Portuguese class left. The college extended the class an extra week, why? I don't know but I'm sure glad. This new schedule has me arriving in Juiz de Fora only 2 nights before classes begin in August 9. Class is going very well. I have been spending a lot of time studying in order to try and make up for my worries of my language deficiencies.
Only 2 days ago, I received my first contact message from the host family I might be staying with in Juiz de Fora. Not a family as he is single, a doctor, has one roommate and speaks little English. He is starting a vacation today for which he will be arriving in Rio by bus later this afternoon, then onto Salvador in the North of Brazil early tomorrrow. I am meeting him at the bus station later today for an introduction. He will be on vacation when I arrive in JF so he has told me his roommate will meet me at the bustation when I arrive.
I am joining a couple of young women today for a hike from about sea level to the Christ statue through the national park. I've been told there are many monkeys and a few sloths in the tropical forest. It is a beautiful sunny day with forcasted highs of 75. Perfect for a hike.
Chewy
One week of Portuguese class left. The college extended the class an extra week, why? I don't know but I'm sure glad. This new schedule has me arriving in Juiz de Fora only 2 nights before classes begin in August 9. Class is going very well. I have been spending a lot of time studying in order to try and make up for my worries of my language deficiencies.
Only 2 days ago, I received my first contact message from the host family I might be staying with in Juiz de Fora. Not a family as he is single, a doctor, has one roommate and speaks little English. He is starting a vacation today for which he will be arriving in Rio by bus later this afternoon, then onto Salvador in the North of Brazil early tomorrrow. I am meeting him at the bus station later today for an introduction. He will be on vacation when I arrive in JF so he has told me his roommate will meet me at the bustation when I arrive.
I am joining a couple of young women today for a hike from about sea level to the Christ statue through the national park. I've been told there are many monkeys and a few sloths in the tropical forest. It is a beautiful sunny day with forcasted highs of 75. Perfect for a hike.
Chewy
Friday, July 9, 2010
Fin de Semana (weekend)
My Portuguese class has been going great. Yesterday, we spent the whole day touring the city. While conversing only in Portuguese, we visited the National Theater (a very beautiful building in the heart of the city center), a marina museum containing a battle ship and a submarine, a street fair selling many native arts, crafts and foods. The end of the class and day found us on a peninsula jutting out into the ocean between the two most famous beaches Ipanema and Copacabana. This granite outcrop is the host of a fort containing a museum, and a large cannon pointing towards the ocean built into the rock. We arrived here about an hour before sunset as we were able to watch the changing colors of the sky as the sun dissappeared behind the tall buildings adjacent to Copacabana. All these tourist locations were paid for by the school as the syllabus initially states. The syllabus has us in class Monday through Friday with cultural activities on three Saturdays of the four weeks of class. I love this class as it's not just sitting in the class with our nose in the books doing repititous memorizing.
The first class on Wednesday, we learned of Brazils history and culture. After eating lunch, we had an hour and a half until class resumed. My other class mates layed down on the concrete benches in the outside common area adjacent to the cafeteria. After trying this for 10 minutes, I began to play my harmonica for the next hour. About 15 local students approached me saying they liked the music with several telling me there was a poetry reading at the same location on Friday. As at least one person would be playing their guitar at the peotry reading as they mentioned they would love to have me play the harmonica there as well.
Today's class was half lecture. The second half of the day we went on another tour to the Botanical Garden (Jardim Botanico). In the morning, we had a history lesson of Brazil and Rio de Janeiro. With all spoken in Portuguese, my understanding was that France invaded and took control of Portugal then Brazil. The king of France built this Botanical Garden with many different tropical plants and trees from equatorial locations throughout the world. This 540 square meter area became inhabited by France in 1808. In 1822, Brazil gained their independence when later this area became a park. In addition to all the greenery within the park's rain forest, there were also several varities of monkeys. Instead of taking public transportation to all these places, the school had provided a passanger van with a driver to escort us around the city.
We left for the botanical garden before the peotry reading took place. Not knowing we were going until just before lunch today, I was able to see the group who invited me to play the harmonica in the lunch room. I appologized to them for committing to play and then through inforseen circumstances, I was unable to. They told me there would be other times events like this would occur.
Chewy
The first class on Wednesday, we learned of Brazils history and culture. After eating lunch, we had an hour and a half until class resumed. My other class mates layed down on the concrete benches in the outside common area adjacent to the cafeteria. After trying this for 10 minutes, I began to play my harmonica for the next hour. About 15 local students approached me saying they liked the music with several telling me there was a poetry reading at the same location on Friday. As at least one person would be playing their guitar at the peotry reading as they mentioned they would love to have me play the harmonica there as well.
Today's class was half lecture. The second half of the day we went on another tour to the Botanical Garden (Jardim Botanico). In the morning, we had a history lesson of Brazil and Rio de Janeiro. With all spoken in Portuguese, my understanding was that France invaded and took control of Portugal then Brazil. The king of France built this Botanical Garden with many different tropical plants and trees from equatorial locations throughout the world. This 540 square meter area became inhabited by France in 1808. In 1822, Brazil gained their independence when later this area became a park. In addition to all the greenery within the park's rain forest, there were also several varities of monkeys. Instead of taking public transportation to all these places, the school had provided a passanger van with a driver to escort us around the city.
We left for the botanical garden before the peotry reading took place. Not knowing we were going until just before lunch today, I was able to see the group who invited me to play the harmonica in the lunch room. I appologized to them for committing to play and then through inforseen circumstances, I was unable to. They told me there would be other times events like this would occur.
Chewy
Monday, July 5, 2010
Aula de Portugues (Portuguese Class)
My first day of class was simple and somewhat dissappointing. The only thing I learned was where the class would be held and where I would eat on campus. We did administrative things such as paperwork lasting for about an two hours. At the start of class we were given three pages stapled together with a total of four questions on them and articles supplimenting the questions. All was in Portuguese of which I could only pick out maybe two words in Spanish for ten I read. I had difficulty reading the questions in their entirety. We were given two sheets of paper to write out our answers. Not knowing what to write, I wrote my full name, my address here at the hostel and my email address. Below this, I wrote a few sentences in Spanish about myself saying I have studied Spanish for one year in college and that I had lived in Costa Rica for six months. I wrote two sentences in Portuguese saying that I spoke very little Portuguese and that I had studied the language very little for the past three months. I read all three pages thoroughly and received some comprenhension on the last page. There was a pasted article on drinking and driving in Brazil and I believe they were asking for how drinking and driving is handled in my home country. The legal drinking age here is 18, the article stated. I had thoughts fomulated but couldn't decipher my thoughts into Portuguese.
There were four students total in the class with five more not there yet. As the first two students got up to turn their answers, I followed handing mine with a big smile on my face. The teacher and two assistants had us all to go outside. We were called in one at a time for an interview. Upon my turn, I was asked why I wanted to learn Portuguese and what my goals were when finished with college. Basically general questions to see where my level of portuguese was. Before I answered, I asked my first question, fala ingles, do you speak english (yes) as I answered all their questions in English.
That was in essence, the whole class. They told us they were waiting for more students to show up before class started. To look for an email in the next day or two with classes starting on Wednesday. My dissappointment is in the delay of class. But what could I do? The question mark key works on this computer. The other three students are form two Virginia Tech, I believe in Charlottsville, VA and one from University of Virginia, all males. The two traveling together had two semesters of Portuguese while the other had none. He had less written on his paper than I.
We all went back to the International Office to receive student ID's so we could use the computer labs and eat at the cafeteria. There were plenty of vendors outside of all the main buildings selling mainly fast food type items. I wanted to experience the cafeteria on my first day at school. I ditched my other three classmates as they had other things in mind and found my way back to the language building which houses the student cafeteria. Again, similar to the cafeteria at the school in Juiz de Fora but a little more expensive at R$2 (a very good price at US$1). The food was much simpler containing black beans and rice, freshly grilled chicken tenders, a bowl of fresh fruit containing peeled sliced oranges, bananas and something similar the the color of beets, and fettucini in a cream sauce. Every day, the language school breaks for an hour and a half at lunch time.
Going to the end of the line to enter the cafeteria, I was given a yellow slip of paper with a munber on it which turned out to be my meal pass. I had to ask the three young female students in line in front of me what the yellow paper was. Telling them I spoke very little Portuguese and they spoke no English, they saw a friend of theirs walking past who spoke English. They called him over to help answer my questions and then he went on his way. The three students invited me to join them at their table. We tried talking but the language barrier and the loudness in the dining room was to great for me to hear.
I found the bus stop back to Ipanema Beach surviving my first day of school in Brazil.
Chewy
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Festa Junina (June Party)
Hi everyone,,
June party, is this the same as a May, July, August, Sept......party. As it turns out this is a party in honor of Saint Peter (I don't know who this Saint is). This party happens on the Tuesdays throughout the month of June celebrated throughout Rio and maybe all of Brazil. The June party (Festa Junina) I happen to be attending as celebrated at the cheapest hostel in all of Rio is a party where you pay initially R$15 (half in US$) for all the food and beer one can eat and drink. Quite cheap with entertainment included.
The food, so far has consisted of suasages and cheese grilled over charcol. I've never had grilled cheese as the sign read. I thought of grilled cheese in the form of a sandwich. but this form of grilled cheese was literally grilled cheese. Just like the sausage, the cheese of similar shape, .5 inch square by 5 inches long grilled over hot coals until crispy dark brown on all four sides. The cheese could have been dipped in a course brown flour or eaten plain straight off the stick. I don`t know what kind of cheese, white in color but definetly not mozerella to be able to become crispy over the high heat of charcol. The first grilled cheese on a stick was eaten plain, the second, rolled in course ground brown flour giving the hot cheese a crunchy texture. I don't know what kind of cheese this was being grilled but it must have been some kind of hearty cheese able to withstand the high temperatures of charcol without melting like mozeralla or cheddar cheese. Other foods were a traditional Brazilian soup made of creamed rice and hominy, sweet and regular cornbread, and peanut brittle. As I have restarted the low carb diet, the sweets were set aside as I ate more of the grilled cheese and sausage.
Various festivities during the Festa Junina include a plethora of games for all participants. My favorite of which is bingo. You all know the game, right. The numbers were drawn from a coconut with a hole large enough to stick your hand through. The winner of all these games won a chip enabling the winner to a free drink of Caiprinha. Caiprinha is a Brazilian drink made from the liquor Cachaca which happens to be a liquor made from cane sugar, a sweet liquor. Making caprinha involves using a wooden mallet to mash the fresh limes, pulverizing the pulp within the liquor of cachaca. To make the sugar cane liquor even sweeter, granulated cane sugar can be added. I, so far have had mine made without the granulated sugar as it appears to be sweet enough without the sugar.
Other games to get chips to trade for the caiprinha drink involve a drinking game where a deck of cards are placed on top of a beer bottle. The game is called BLOW. The object is to see how many cards you can blow off the bottle without blowing the final card off. The one who blows the final card off the bottle has to drink. Reminds me of all the drinking games I participated while in college, not recently but in my younger college days at the age of 18 to 22. The games of yesteryear were wuite familiar, but now mostly all I do is watch. I have been able to derive enjoyment out of watching others in their state of inebriation playing these silly games, socializing and getting drunk. I don't see where the celebration of Saint Peter on any Tuesday evening in June plays a part in the Festa. The party could have just as well been in celebration of a favorite cat who died last year or in celebration of rearrenging the living room furniture. This party resembles in appearance, nothing to Saint Peter, but of what, I can`t quite figure it out. Another reason to have a party. May God rest Saint Peter's soul.
The hostel is a notorious location for the younger party crowd as I am for the most part twice or almost twice the guests ages. There are people from all over the world staying here. I've met individuals from Holland, Korea, Japan, China, UK, New Zealand, India, Iran, Egypt, Australia, all over South America, Canada, Nepal, Scotland, Finland, Germany, Belgium, Ireland.... many countries but I have yet to meet one from the USA. There are many different languages spoken here. But English seems to be the one common language spoken amongst all as I can carry on a conversation with almost everyone from around the world.
Now a few days later as fourth of July has arrived. Another means for celebration with more drinking games, more caiprinha and beer and, to my surprise american food (grilled hamburgers and hot dogs). Tonights main game is called beer pong. The pool table this game is played upon has seen its better days. The felt cover has many gross stains on it from long since dried spilt drinks. I have yet to see a game of pool played on the table. I heard someone say not to lean on the table as it may collapse. The pool table has seen better days. Beer pong through my eyes for about five minutes, involves pairs of peoople at opposing ends with 10 half filled small cups of beer. The object is to toss a ping pong ball into one of the 10 cups from across the table into the cup. If the cups lands in a cup of beer, the person standing with the cups has to drink the beer contained within the cup. The losing couple of the game when all the beer is consumed from the cups in front of them, has to drink the remaining beer in the cups of the opposing team.
I am so fortunate I have been able to sleep through all the noise. The hostel seems to quiet down after midnight as the majority younger crowd leaves out into the night for the night life contained in a 24 hour city. The young party crowd don`t return until 0400, 0500 or sometimes not until after the sun rises, sleeping till 1400 or later. I am amazed at how wiser I get with age, not joining the masses of drunken recreations. Two or three beers is quite enough for me once or twice a week. Tonight, the majortity are heading to a favela party leaving here at 2330 til the late hours of the early morning. I barely wake up as those who return finding their way to their bed after sunrise, trying to be quiet as they are nearing the borderline of an inebriated hangover. Of the maximum capacity of 23 people in the room (11 double bunk beds and one single with the total capacity of the hostel at 50), last night there were only maybe three sleeping when I retired at 0200 this morning. Now approaching 2345, the loud music of the hostel has been turned off as the people congregate outside for mass transportation to the largest favela in the city. The decible level has been reduced drastically except for the occasional outburst of those still playing beer pong on the pool table.
Portuguese class starts at 1000 tomorrow at the federal university here in Rio. Later, another story.
Chewy
June party, is this the same as a May, July, August, Sept......party. As it turns out this is a party in honor of Saint Peter (I don't know who this Saint is). This party happens on the Tuesdays throughout the month of June celebrated throughout Rio and maybe all of Brazil. The June party (Festa Junina) I happen to be attending as celebrated at the cheapest hostel in all of Rio is a party where you pay initially R$15 (half in US$) for all the food and beer one can eat and drink. Quite cheap with entertainment included.
The food, so far has consisted of suasages and cheese grilled over charcol. I've never had grilled cheese as the sign read. I thought of grilled cheese in the form of a sandwich. but this form of grilled cheese was literally grilled cheese. Just like the sausage, the cheese of similar shape, .5 inch square by 5 inches long grilled over hot coals until crispy dark brown on all four sides. The cheese could have been dipped in a course brown flour or eaten plain straight off the stick. I don`t know what kind of cheese, white in color but definetly not mozerella to be able to become crispy over the high heat of charcol. The first grilled cheese on a stick was eaten plain, the second, rolled in course ground brown flour giving the hot cheese a crunchy texture. I don't know what kind of cheese this was being grilled but it must have been some kind of hearty cheese able to withstand the high temperatures of charcol without melting like mozeralla or cheddar cheese. Other foods were a traditional Brazilian soup made of creamed rice and hominy, sweet and regular cornbread, and peanut brittle. As I have restarted the low carb diet, the sweets were set aside as I ate more of the grilled cheese and sausage.
Various festivities during the Festa Junina include a plethora of games for all participants. My favorite of which is bingo. You all know the game, right. The numbers were drawn from a coconut with a hole large enough to stick your hand through. The winner of all these games won a chip enabling the winner to a free drink of Caiprinha. Caiprinha is a Brazilian drink made from the liquor Cachaca which happens to be a liquor made from cane sugar, a sweet liquor. Making caprinha involves using a wooden mallet to mash the fresh limes, pulverizing the pulp within the liquor of cachaca. To make the sugar cane liquor even sweeter, granulated cane sugar can be added. I, so far have had mine made without the granulated sugar as it appears to be sweet enough without the sugar.
Other games to get chips to trade for the caiprinha drink involve a drinking game where a deck of cards are placed on top of a beer bottle. The game is called BLOW. The object is to see how many cards you can blow off the bottle without blowing the final card off. The one who blows the final card off the bottle has to drink. Reminds me of all the drinking games I participated while in college, not recently but in my younger college days at the age of 18 to 22. The games of yesteryear were wuite familiar, but now mostly all I do is watch. I have been able to derive enjoyment out of watching others in their state of inebriation playing these silly games, socializing and getting drunk. I don't see where the celebration of Saint Peter on any Tuesday evening in June plays a part in the Festa. The party could have just as well been in celebration of a favorite cat who died last year or in celebration of rearrenging the living room furniture. This party resembles in appearance, nothing to Saint Peter, but of what, I can`t quite figure it out. Another reason to have a party. May God rest Saint Peter's soul.
The hostel is a notorious location for the younger party crowd as I am for the most part twice or almost twice the guests ages. There are people from all over the world staying here. I've met individuals from Holland, Korea, Japan, China, UK, New Zealand, India, Iran, Egypt, Australia, all over South America, Canada, Nepal, Scotland, Finland, Germany, Belgium, Ireland.... many countries but I have yet to meet one from the USA. There are many different languages spoken here. But English seems to be the one common language spoken amongst all as I can carry on a conversation with almost everyone from around the world.
Now a few days later as fourth of July has arrived. Another means for celebration with more drinking games, more caiprinha and beer and, to my surprise american food (grilled hamburgers and hot dogs). Tonights main game is called beer pong. The pool table this game is played upon has seen its better days. The felt cover has many gross stains on it from long since dried spilt drinks. I have yet to see a game of pool played on the table. I heard someone say not to lean on the table as it may collapse. The pool table has seen better days. Beer pong through my eyes for about five minutes, involves pairs of peoople at opposing ends with 10 half filled small cups of beer. The object is to toss a ping pong ball into one of the 10 cups from across the table into the cup. If the cups lands in a cup of beer, the person standing with the cups has to drink the beer contained within the cup. The losing couple of the game when all the beer is consumed from the cups in front of them, has to drink the remaining beer in the cups of the opposing team.
I am so fortunate I have been able to sleep through all the noise. The hostel seems to quiet down after midnight as the majority younger crowd leaves out into the night for the night life contained in a 24 hour city. The young party crowd don`t return until 0400, 0500 or sometimes not until after the sun rises, sleeping till 1400 or later. I am amazed at how wiser I get with age, not joining the masses of drunken recreations. Two or three beers is quite enough for me once or twice a week. Tonight, the majortity are heading to a favela party leaving here at 2330 til the late hours of the early morning. I barely wake up as those who return finding their way to their bed after sunrise, trying to be quiet as they are nearing the borderline of an inebriated hangover. Of the maximum capacity of 23 people in the room (11 double bunk beds and one single with the total capacity of the hostel at 50), last night there were only maybe three sleeping when I retired at 0200 this morning. Now approaching 2345, the loud music of the hostel has been turned off as the people congregate outside for mass transportation to the largest favela in the city. The decible level has been reduced drastically except for the occasional outburst of those still playing beer pong on the pool table.
Portuguese class starts at 1000 tomorrow at the federal university here in Rio. Later, another story.
Chewy
Friday, July 2, 2010
Juiz de Fora, JF
Hi All,
I enjoyed Juiz de Fora Yesterday. The first bus from the central bus terminal in Rio was at 0600. In order to save the great cost of a taxi from the hostel to the bus terminal, I thought I would just take the last city bus of the night from the hostel. Arriving at the bus stop at 0030 (Iwas told the last bus would pass at 0100) and waiting for more than an hour, no bus ever came to take me to the central bus terminal. Again, instead of taking a taxi, I walked to the street parallel to the beach where I hailed a passanger van. These passanger vans hold about 15 people and go to various parts of the city, one tripo for R$2.20 (half in US$). A bus to any point costs R$2.35.
My adventure begins, not knowing where to get off. I have been around the city, by bus and walking, enough to recognize the names of many of it's suburbs. There are three locations which still confuse me by name as these are Centro, Central, and Centre each being a different location in Rio. Having a choice between these three and a maximum of 4 hours to get to the bus terminal with 30 minutes to spare, I decided on the van to Central.
Along with the driver of the van, there is another employee who takes the fare. This extra employee stands in the narrow entry to the van next to the open window. The extra's other job is to holler out the window the names of the various main suburbs in route yelling almost constantly Lapa, Botafogo, Flamengo, Gloria, Central to all curb side people who may look like they are waiting for a taxi, bus, or van. The only time when she is not yelling is when she is taking money from the passangers.
The driver will stop anywhere in route, all you have to do is whistle, hit the roof of the van or simply say stop here and the driver immediately pulls over. I got on the van, paid my R$2.20 and upon settling in to try and recognize which suburbs we were passing through. I asked the extra two simple words I had learned in Portuguese, Onde Rodoviaria, Where central bus terminal (every city seems to have one and its called Rodoviaria) pronounced on-gee hodo-vee-are-eea with a stressed accent on the first i. She spoke to me for a few seconds in rapid portuguese maybe thinking I spoke the language fluently. I nodded like I understood and said muito bom (very good).
After driving around in the early morning hours for more than 30 minutes seeing many locations I didn't recognize with a few glimpses of areas I did mainly proceeding in the general direction of where I wanted to go, the driver dropped off the next to the last passenger. A good sign that the van is nearing the end of its route upon which it will turn around and repeat the trip in the other direction, the extra will continuing yelling in a rapid voice Central, Gloria, Flamengo, Botafogo, Lapa, Copacabana, Impanema.....
Being the last passanger, the extra again began talking to me in Portuguese of which I understood nothing, but what did she know. When she finished, I asked, fala inglis (do you speak english). Not a word. I said Muito bom agian as we both laughed and they dropped my off a few blocks later, obviously their last stop. Here they turned around and continued where we had come from.
Wondering what I was going to do next, I walked a 360 degree circle in one spot, scanning as far as I could see. Two blocks in one direction, I saw a mass concentration of people and a few city busses. What came to be a main city bus terminal. This is what the extra had been telling me, "we'll drop you off near a bus stop where you can get a bus to Rodoviaria". I walked the two blocks and waited for about 30 minutes until a bus with the word Rodoviaria written in big letters on the windshield. Paying the R$2.35, I was there lass than 15 minutes later.
I arrived at the central bus terminal at about 0315 with my bus not leaving until 0600. I slept lightly in the terminal chairs not wanting to sleep soundly. I had no alarm clock to wake me for departure. I slept almost the whole bus trip to Juiz de Fora, 180 Km roughly 108 miles in 3.5 hours.
My advisor in JF had given me bus numbers which would get me to UFJF. I first had to take a bus from Rodoviaria to Centro and then find a bus to UFJF. At 0930 and going from sea level and 75 degrees to over 3000 feet elevation and 50 degrees in the winter wearing shorts, short sleeve shirt and sandels, I was shivering. I'm glad I had brought one pair of pants with me but was sad as I had left them in Rio. I will be able to use them in JF when I move here the first week of August.
I checked in with the international office at UFJF (University Federal de Juiz de Fora). As my appointment with the Policia Federal (to register as the final part of my student visa application process of which I detest because this step of the process costs nearly US$100) wasn't until 1500, I had time also to meet my advisor with the Civil Engineering department. After organizing some classes I might be able to take in August, she offered to take me to lunch. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time as I still had to stop by any bank to pay the R$190 in fees to the Policia Federal with just enough time to go register with them back in Centro.
Yesterday, through email, the International office had asked me if I wanted an excort to the Policia Federal in JF. The People here in Brazil are so nice. I was so extatic from the international office's offer. I met my escort at 1400 after paying the bill at a bank on UFJF's campus.
JF is similar in terrain to Robbbinsville, where everything is up and steeply. The city, the size of about Greensboro, is definetly in the mountains, the main city center being in the narrow river valley bottom. Before arriving here, not knowing the terrain, I had considered renting a bicycle for the four months I will be spending in JF. This isn't a practical option for me. The university sits on top of a mountain high above the city center (its highly likely I will be living in Centro). The roads are steep and twisty, crowded with pedestrians, cars and busses.
My escort and I arrived at the Policia Fedaral with minutes to spare taking a bus back to centro then walking about a mile. Along the way, I found out he spoke no English. We didn't talk much. My escort and the officer at the Policia Federal talked for about 20 minutes as I sat there listening intently understanding about every 10th word, mainly a word in Spanish. My visit resulted in me not finalizing the last step in my visa application process. My documents clearly state I must register in JF. But the policia tell me I must register in Rio. Not showing my discontent, I was pissed but got over it soon enough.
I had to go back to UFJF to see my Engineering advisor before leaving the Rodoviaria in JF at 1900 for Rio. This was my second trip walking through the UFJF campus and the Engineering department. I could've takan a free campus bus but I had time and wanted to see the campus.
The western half of the school I walked through from the center where the bus dropped me off to the Engineering department passes through three other educational disciplines. Each discipline had its narrow long strip of land cut into the mountain side similar to terraces with the Engineering department being at the pinnacle of the mountain. Between each terrace were long steep steps containing switchbacks to get from one level to the next. My first walk through was over the much longer road to the top but this time I meandered through and between the buildings of each terrace in order to find stairs leading from behind the buildings up to the next terrace. By the time I reached the top, I was sweating profusely as the temperature had reached a sweltering 65 degrees in the middle of winter.
I met with my advisor to obtain paper copies of class descriptions to give to my advisor in NC for credit evaluation. UFJF's websight is under construction. My advisor, Roberta (who speaks enough English), said the websight for the current classes has been down and the only thing available was a hard copy of the class descriptions. I must translate these, 11 pages in all to English before forwarding them to NC. I'm trying to find someone knowledgeable enough of computers who can show me who to convert .pdf files to .doc or .docx files so I can paste these descriptions into an internet translator.
To my surprise, Roberta had found me an escort to follow me back to Rodoviaria. After introductions, Roberta followed us to the school cafeteria to buy Rafael (as the R is pronounced with a gutteral H his name is pronounced Ha-fael) and I supper. The cafeteria was very simple with only lunch and supper served. Supper last night consisted of all you can eat, serve yourself beans and rice, stewed cabbage, one, and only one serving of diced sauteed chicken (scooped by a server), a very small salad bar with green leaf lettuce, sliced tomatoes and whole fresh fruit. A self serve drink bar of juices and water. That's it. All for R$1.50 each meal. Roughly US$0.75. What a bargain.
Oblivious to time as I had an escort to the bus terminal we ate and talked. Rafael was not just a random student found by Roberta. Rafael (who speaks much better English than I do Portuguese) is excited to be on his way to North Carolina State University in two weeks to study Industrail Engineering for a semester. We had lots to talk about. I, mainly practicing my Portuguese and Rafael asking me about Raleigh (How's the night life, Are there a lot of attractions there, How much is a Big Mac, in JF US$5.00), he is looking forward to seeing a Walmart for the first time. He introduced me to his girlfriend whispering to me I better take care of her making sure she stays faithful to him while he is gone.
Not knowig the time, just after eating he gets up and says we must rush for Rodoviaria as it is getting late and we have to take two busses through Centro. I arrive at the bus terminal with 10 minutes to spare taking a taxi from centro as I never would have arrived on time had I taken the bus.
The next thing I remember from getting on the bus in JF was waking to an empty bus at Rodoviaria in Rio. I don't think the bus had been there for long. Being sleepy and disoriented, I had to ask upon getting off the bus where I was, Que este cidade, What city is this (insert question mark here as the question mark key doesn't work on this computer, it spits out a colon) Taking one bus from Rodoviaria in Rio, I arrived at the hostel at 2330 very tired and ready for bed.
Today I slept until 0930. Needing more cash, I ventured out for an ATM for the first time. Something I should've done sooner. Trying three banks and using two different debit cards from two different banks in the US many times, I was finally able to withdraw a maximum of R$600 for the day. I'm going to have to reach SECU (State Employees Credit Union) to see what the problem is as My BB&T debit card worked. I needed R$900 to pay tuition at UFRJ (University Federal de Rio De Janeiro). Afterwhich I went to UFRJ to register, obtain documents for the Policia Federal in Rio, and inquire about Portuguese class starting Monday.
Everything went smoothly with the Policia Federal in Rio. The final step in my student visa application process is complete. I waited in line, in a chair, the only one in the student line for an hour and a half. The next number to be called was 416 as the digital counter read 415. Sitting in the chair in a crowded room amongst at least 50 people doing other things with the passport department, a blaring TV, I fell asleep. The officer, who checked me in, checked all my documents, had me to fill out the student visa application, took fingerprinnts of all ten fingers (twice) on the front and back of the application, woke me an hour and a half later to tell me its my turn. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to the hostel, leaving the airport as the sun was setting at 1715.
Chewy
I enjoyed Juiz de Fora Yesterday. The first bus from the central bus terminal in Rio was at 0600. In order to save the great cost of a taxi from the hostel to the bus terminal, I thought I would just take the last city bus of the night from the hostel. Arriving at the bus stop at 0030 (Iwas told the last bus would pass at 0100) and waiting for more than an hour, no bus ever came to take me to the central bus terminal. Again, instead of taking a taxi, I walked to the street parallel to the beach where I hailed a passanger van. These passanger vans hold about 15 people and go to various parts of the city, one tripo for R$2.20 (half in US$). A bus to any point costs R$2.35.
My adventure begins, not knowing where to get off. I have been around the city, by bus and walking, enough to recognize the names of many of it's suburbs. There are three locations which still confuse me by name as these are Centro, Central, and Centre each being a different location in Rio. Having a choice between these three and a maximum of 4 hours to get to the bus terminal with 30 minutes to spare, I decided on the van to Central.
Along with the driver of the van, there is another employee who takes the fare. This extra employee stands in the narrow entry to the van next to the open window. The extra's other job is to holler out the window the names of the various main suburbs in route yelling almost constantly Lapa, Botafogo, Flamengo, Gloria, Central to all curb side people who may look like they are waiting for a taxi, bus, or van. The only time when she is not yelling is when she is taking money from the passangers.
The driver will stop anywhere in route, all you have to do is whistle, hit the roof of the van or simply say stop here and the driver immediately pulls over. I got on the van, paid my R$2.20 and upon settling in to try and recognize which suburbs we were passing through. I asked the extra two simple words I had learned in Portuguese, Onde Rodoviaria, Where central bus terminal (every city seems to have one and its called Rodoviaria) pronounced on-gee hodo-vee-are-eea with a stressed accent on the first i. She spoke to me for a few seconds in rapid portuguese maybe thinking I spoke the language fluently. I nodded like I understood and said muito bom (very good).
After driving around in the early morning hours for more than 30 minutes seeing many locations I didn't recognize with a few glimpses of areas I did mainly proceeding in the general direction of where I wanted to go, the driver dropped off the next to the last passenger. A good sign that the van is nearing the end of its route upon which it will turn around and repeat the trip in the other direction, the extra will continuing yelling in a rapid voice Central, Gloria, Flamengo, Botafogo, Lapa, Copacabana, Impanema.....
Being the last passanger, the extra again began talking to me in Portuguese of which I understood nothing, but what did she know. When she finished, I asked, fala inglis (do you speak english). Not a word. I said Muito bom agian as we both laughed and they dropped my off a few blocks later, obviously their last stop. Here they turned around and continued where we had come from.
Wondering what I was going to do next, I walked a 360 degree circle in one spot, scanning as far as I could see. Two blocks in one direction, I saw a mass concentration of people and a few city busses. What came to be a main city bus terminal. This is what the extra had been telling me, "we'll drop you off near a bus stop where you can get a bus to Rodoviaria". I walked the two blocks and waited for about 30 minutes until a bus with the word Rodoviaria written in big letters on the windshield. Paying the R$2.35, I was there lass than 15 minutes later.
I arrived at the central bus terminal at about 0315 with my bus not leaving until 0600. I slept lightly in the terminal chairs not wanting to sleep soundly. I had no alarm clock to wake me for departure. I slept almost the whole bus trip to Juiz de Fora, 180 Km roughly 108 miles in 3.5 hours.
My advisor in JF had given me bus numbers which would get me to UFJF. I first had to take a bus from Rodoviaria to Centro and then find a bus to UFJF. At 0930 and going from sea level and 75 degrees to over 3000 feet elevation and 50 degrees in the winter wearing shorts, short sleeve shirt and sandels, I was shivering. I'm glad I had brought one pair of pants with me but was sad as I had left them in Rio. I will be able to use them in JF when I move here the first week of August.
I checked in with the international office at UFJF (University Federal de Juiz de Fora). As my appointment with the Policia Federal (to register as the final part of my student visa application process of which I detest because this step of the process costs nearly US$100) wasn't until 1500, I had time also to meet my advisor with the Civil Engineering department. After organizing some classes I might be able to take in August, she offered to take me to lunch. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time as I still had to stop by any bank to pay the R$190 in fees to the Policia Federal with just enough time to go register with them back in Centro.
Yesterday, through email, the International office had asked me if I wanted an excort to the Policia Federal in JF. The People here in Brazil are so nice. I was so extatic from the international office's offer. I met my escort at 1400 after paying the bill at a bank on UFJF's campus.
JF is similar in terrain to Robbbinsville, where everything is up and steeply. The city, the size of about Greensboro, is definetly in the mountains, the main city center being in the narrow river valley bottom. Before arriving here, not knowing the terrain, I had considered renting a bicycle for the four months I will be spending in JF. This isn't a practical option for me. The university sits on top of a mountain high above the city center (its highly likely I will be living in Centro). The roads are steep and twisty, crowded with pedestrians, cars and busses.
My escort and I arrived at the Policia Fedaral with minutes to spare taking a bus back to centro then walking about a mile. Along the way, I found out he spoke no English. We didn't talk much. My escort and the officer at the Policia Federal talked for about 20 minutes as I sat there listening intently understanding about every 10th word, mainly a word in Spanish. My visit resulted in me not finalizing the last step in my visa application process. My documents clearly state I must register in JF. But the policia tell me I must register in Rio. Not showing my discontent, I was pissed but got over it soon enough.
I had to go back to UFJF to see my Engineering advisor before leaving the Rodoviaria in JF at 1900 for Rio. This was my second trip walking through the UFJF campus and the Engineering department. I could've takan a free campus bus but I had time and wanted to see the campus.
The western half of the school I walked through from the center where the bus dropped me off to the Engineering department passes through three other educational disciplines. Each discipline had its narrow long strip of land cut into the mountain side similar to terraces with the Engineering department being at the pinnacle of the mountain. Between each terrace were long steep steps containing switchbacks to get from one level to the next. My first walk through was over the much longer road to the top but this time I meandered through and between the buildings of each terrace in order to find stairs leading from behind the buildings up to the next terrace. By the time I reached the top, I was sweating profusely as the temperature had reached a sweltering 65 degrees in the middle of winter.
I met with my advisor to obtain paper copies of class descriptions to give to my advisor in NC for credit evaluation. UFJF's websight is under construction. My advisor, Roberta (who speaks enough English), said the websight for the current classes has been down and the only thing available was a hard copy of the class descriptions. I must translate these, 11 pages in all to English before forwarding them to NC. I'm trying to find someone knowledgeable enough of computers who can show me who to convert .pdf files to .doc or .docx files so I can paste these descriptions into an internet translator.
To my surprise, Roberta had found me an escort to follow me back to Rodoviaria. After introductions, Roberta followed us to the school cafeteria to buy Rafael (as the R is pronounced with a gutteral H his name is pronounced Ha-fael) and I supper. The cafeteria was very simple with only lunch and supper served. Supper last night consisted of all you can eat, serve yourself beans and rice, stewed cabbage, one, and only one serving of diced sauteed chicken (scooped by a server), a very small salad bar with green leaf lettuce, sliced tomatoes and whole fresh fruit. A self serve drink bar of juices and water. That's it. All for R$1.50 each meal. Roughly US$0.75. What a bargain.
Oblivious to time as I had an escort to the bus terminal we ate and talked. Rafael was not just a random student found by Roberta. Rafael (who speaks much better English than I do Portuguese) is excited to be on his way to North Carolina State University in two weeks to study Industrail Engineering for a semester. We had lots to talk about. I, mainly practicing my Portuguese and Rafael asking me about Raleigh (How's the night life, Are there a lot of attractions there, How much is a Big Mac, in JF US$5.00), he is looking forward to seeing a Walmart for the first time. He introduced me to his girlfriend whispering to me I better take care of her making sure she stays faithful to him while he is gone.
Not knowig the time, just after eating he gets up and says we must rush for Rodoviaria as it is getting late and we have to take two busses through Centro. I arrive at the bus terminal with 10 minutes to spare taking a taxi from centro as I never would have arrived on time had I taken the bus.
The next thing I remember from getting on the bus in JF was waking to an empty bus at Rodoviaria in Rio. I don't think the bus had been there for long. Being sleepy and disoriented, I had to ask upon getting off the bus where I was, Que este cidade, What city is this (insert question mark here as the question mark key doesn't work on this computer, it spits out a colon) Taking one bus from Rodoviaria in Rio, I arrived at the hostel at 2330 very tired and ready for bed.
Today I slept until 0930. Needing more cash, I ventured out for an ATM for the first time. Something I should've done sooner. Trying three banks and using two different debit cards from two different banks in the US many times, I was finally able to withdraw a maximum of R$600 for the day. I'm going to have to reach SECU (State Employees Credit Union) to see what the problem is as My BB&T debit card worked. I needed R$900 to pay tuition at UFRJ (University Federal de Rio De Janeiro). Afterwhich I went to UFRJ to register, obtain documents for the Policia Federal in Rio, and inquire about Portuguese class starting Monday.
Everything went smoothly with the Policia Federal in Rio. The final step in my student visa application process is complete. I waited in line, in a chair, the only one in the student line for an hour and a half. The next number to be called was 416 as the digital counter read 415. Sitting in the chair in a crowded room amongst at least 50 people doing other things with the passport department, a blaring TV, I fell asleep. The officer, who checked me in, checked all my documents, had me to fill out the student visa application, took fingerprinnts of all ten fingers (twice) on the front and back of the application, woke me an hour and a half later to tell me its my turn. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to the hostel, leaving the airport as the sun was setting at 1715.
Chewy
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Santa Teresa
Geert, (the one with the computer) who allowed me to use his computer to make free long distance calls to the US, asked me to go with him to the train statin to pick up his wife. At which point the two of them would go to points beyond in Brazil. He will not be back, unfortunately. He asked me to go because he was alone and carrying his computer and important documents and wanted me along for safety concerns. He would not let me buy my own tickets to and from the train station. This was my first time on the subway here (called the metro). I think I like the busses better as the metro is subterranian giving the busses a view of where you are going and where you have been. I used the return ticket to come back about half way and stopped in a suburb of Rio which was the closest stop to a historical location.
I walked from the metro to this historical place called Santa Teresa. Santa Teresa sits along a ridge top of a somewhat very wealthy neighborhood with dwellings dating back to a couple hundred years ago. There was a ruinas location along this ridge at one of the higher points which had been converted to a museum. The ruins were of a house built over 300 years ago. Being on a high point, there were awesome views of the surrounding city and its beaches. The historical area continued along the ridge for about 2 miles with many bars and curiosity shops.
My initial intention was to walk through then return the way I had come. About 10 minutes before turning around (which was at the very edge of the street map I was carrying), I saw the Christ Statue as seen on my second day here on a nearby mountain top. I continued along this main route toward the statue which maintained its elevation as the route meandered around the mountain going above several favelas. After the historical area, the road forked, the right going into a rather large favela which I had seen walking through Santa Teresa and the left going toward the statue. The historical area dissappeared as well as the dwellings except for an occassional clearing giving a vista to favelas far below on the steep mountainsides and other favelas across the valley (the velley containing a suburb of Rio) below Christ. It seem like I was walking through the jungle for about two miles. Along the way, there was very little traffic as there was an occassional landslide which was in the process of being cleared. The reason for the lack of traffic became evident when, at one point in the road, there had been a major landslide only allowing for foot trafic and motorcycles to pass. I continued, coming out on the main road to the Christ statue.
Had it been earlier in the day, I would've continued up the main road toward the statue to see it agian, but I went down instead. The road down was very steep, lined with brick and often without a sidewalk. Along either side of the road were the favelas I had seen from the deserted road above although I felt safe walking there as there were many passanger transport (vans and taxis) vehicles clogging the street taking tourists to one of the seven wonders of the world. I came to the first village just below the statue, the village in the valley between the two favelas I had seen from the road above. Here, I took a bus back to the hostel arriving at about dark.
My feet did surprisingly well on this walk with several long up and down hill stretches along the roads. I took four advil upon entering Santa Teresa early in the day, not because I needed them but for a just in case, to give me the extra boost to walk further. Each time I try to push the limits in order to gain more strength in my legs and feet. This has been working well as my stamina has improved. I figure I walked about 7 to 10 miles today.
The favela funk street party was canceled Friday night due to political reasons and recreated tonight with a van leaving at 2300. It's now 1945, enough time to shower and a nap and then maybe go have a few beers in the favela, we'll see if this occurs or not. My energy may decline drastically before 2300.
Chewy
I walked from the metro to this historical place called Santa Teresa. Santa Teresa sits along a ridge top of a somewhat very wealthy neighborhood with dwellings dating back to a couple hundred years ago. There was a ruinas location along this ridge at one of the higher points which had been converted to a museum. The ruins were of a house built over 300 years ago. Being on a high point, there were awesome views of the surrounding city and its beaches. The historical area continued along the ridge for about 2 miles with many bars and curiosity shops.
My initial intention was to walk through then return the way I had come. About 10 minutes before turning around (which was at the very edge of the street map I was carrying), I saw the Christ Statue as seen on my second day here on a nearby mountain top. I continued along this main route toward the statue which maintained its elevation as the route meandered around the mountain going above several favelas. After the historical area, the road forked, the right going into a rather large favela which I had seen walking through Santa Teresa and the left going toward the statue. The historical area dissappeared as well as the dwellings except for an occassional clearing giving a vista to favelas far below on the steep mountainsides and other favelas across the valley (the velley containing a suburb of Rio) below Christ. It seem like I was walking through the jungle for about two miles. Along the way, there was very little traffic as there was an occassional landslide which was in the process of being cleared. The reason for the lack of traffic became evident when, at one point in the road, there had been a major landslide only allowing for foot trafic and motorcycles to pass. I continued, coming out on the main road to the Christ statue.
Had it been earlier in the day, I would've continued up the main road toward the statue to see it agian, but I went down instead. The road down was very steep, lined with brick and often without a sidewalk. Along either side of the road were the favelas I had seen from the deserted road above although I felt safe walking there as there were many passanger transport (vans and taxis) vehicles clogging the street taking tourists to one of the seven wonders of the world. I came to the first village just below the statue, the village in the valley between the two favelas I had seen from the road above. Here, I took a bus back to the hostel arriving at about dark.
My feet did surprisingly well on this walk with several long up and down hill stretches along the roads. I took four advil upon entering Santa Teresa early in the day, not because I needed them but for a just in case, to give me the extra boost to walk further. Each time I try to push the limits in order to gain more strength in my legs and feet. This has been working well as my stamina has improved. I figure I walked about 7 to 10 miles today.
The favela funk street party was canceled Friday night due to political reasons and recreated tonight with a van leaving at 2300. It's now 1945, enough time to shower and a nap and then maybe go have a few beers in the favela, we'll see if this occurs or not. My energy may decline drastically before 2300.
Chewy
Bed Bugs
25 June 2010 Friday
When I was sick, I think Sunday, throughout the day I started experiencing bug bites. As the day progressed, they had covered my entire body. I remember I had taken a nap for about 5 hours that day. Upon waking and through the next 12 hours the itching began and became increasingly worse. My first thought were mosquitos, but I never saw or heard any. I was told they were bed bugs. So far this has been a one time occurrance with no new bites. I now look like I have had the measles or mumps, whatever the condition is where you have welts all over. I went to the pharmacy to get a cream to relieve the itching which really helped. Not until today have I been ably to make it through the day without any cream. I've been very good not to scratch in the last six days. I literally had bites all over me with concentrations on my lower back, elbows, knees and ankles.
Today I went the the central bus terminal to purchase a ticket to Juiz de Fora. My advisor in Juiz de Fora has made me an appointment with Policia Fedaral to register as a student as part of my visa requirements (I have to fork out US$120 as part of these requirements to the federal police, this sucks). I leave at 6am on the 30th, which means I will have to leave the hostel at 430 to arrive an hour before departure as suggested. I like this hostel much better. I have hardly had to wait for a computer as all four work and no one breathing down my neck waiting for the use.
Upon walking back from the bus terminal the last few blocks from where I got off the bus, someone hollered Eric. As I turned around, there were a group of about 7 people sitting at a sidewalk restaurant eating pizza and drinking beer less than a block from the Hostel. She was a girl from South Africa who I had met upon checking in the night before. They all invited me to sit and drink a beer. As music was the topic from a guy talking about playing the guitar, I proceeded to pull out my harmonica and played 6 songs to all eating and drinking. Some were even singing along to songs I played.
Tonight, the hostel is having a cookout and beer. All you can eat and drink for R$15 about US$7.50. I'm already on my third beer before the food is ready. This is the most I have had at one sitting since... well a long time. Afterwards, I may join an organized "Favela Funk" party. Bus to the favela and then a motorcycle taxi to the street party, departure from the hostel at 11pm. I'm sure an experience to write about in the future. Foods ready, gotta go.
When I was sick, I think Sunday, throughout the day I started experiencing bug bites. As the day progressed, they had covered my entire body. I remember I had taken a nap for about 5 hours that day. Upon waking and through the next 12 hours the itching began and became increasingly worse. My first thought were mosquitos, but I never saw or heard any. I was told they were bed bugs. So far this has been a one time occurrance with no new bites. I now look like I have had the measles or mumps, whatever the condition is where you have welts all over. I went to the pharmacy to get a cream to relieve the itching which really helped. Not until today have I been ably to make it through the day without any cream. I've been very good not to scratch in the last six days. I literally had bites all over me with concentrations on my lower back, elbows, knees and ankles.
Today I went the the central bus terminal to purchase a ticket to Juiz de Fora. My advisor in Juiz de Fora has made me an appointment with Policia Fedaral to register as a student as part of my visa requirements (I have to fork out US$120 as part of these requirements to the federal police, this sucks). I leave at 6am on the 30th, which means I will have to leave the hostel at 430 to arrive an hour before departure as suggested. I like this hostel much better. I have hardly had to wait for a computer as all four work and no one breathing down my neck waiting for the use.
Upon walking back from the bus terminal the last few blocks from where I got off the bus, someone hollered Eric. As I turned around, there were a group of about 7 people sitting at a sidewalk restaurant eating pizza and drinking beer less than a block from the Hostel. She was a girl from South Africa who I had met upon checking in the night before. They all invited me to sit and drink a beer. As music was the topic from a guy talking about playing the guitar, I proceeded to pull out my harmonica and played 6 songs to all eating and drinking. Some were even singing along to songs I played.
Tonight, the hostel is having a cookout and beer. All you can eat and drink for R$15 about US$7.50. I'm already on my third beer before the food is ready. This is the most I have had at one sitting since... well a long time. Afterwards, I may join an organized "Favela Funk" party. Bus to the favela and then a motorcycle taxi to the street party, departure from the hostel at 11pm. I'm sure an experience to write about in the future. Foods ready, gotta go.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Roaming Gypsies
Hi all,
I went to the beach and played the harmonica for about an hour. Mostly Beatles songs but I also played some Bob Dylan, and Simon and Garfunkel. As the sun set , I walked along the beach toward a rocky cliff area between the two most popular beaches here in Rio, Copacabana and Impanema. There is a city park there with a peninsula (not sure of the spelling, as I think I found the spell check, ok now) jutting out into the ocean for a couple hundred yards by about 100 feet high. The waves were loudly crashing onto the rocks below. There were initially two surfers in the water when two approached the edge of the escarpment, tossed their boards in the water and jumped in after. The waves which didn't break on the peninsula were able to be ridden with ease by the surfers alongside the point towards the beach shore.
The park was fenced in with only one entrance/exit along the beach sidewalk. As I passed, I could hear what sounded like live music and through the bars (fence) I could see a couple of people dancing next to a head high overhang of rock. Under the overhang was a small fire and I could smell incense burning. After exploring the Rock peninsula until complete darkness watching the full (I think) moon come up, I returned towards the music to inquire.
Upon entering the fenced in area. There were three older women dancing wearing what appeared to be belly dancing costumes to what sounded like Indian music coming from a receiver with rather large quality speakers. I sat and watched for about thirty minutes. Under the rock overhang were many (at least 100) votive candles burning with several apples cut in half with 10-20 burning incense sticks stuck into each one. On the ceiling of the rock overhang, as it sloped down from the entrance all the way to the rear about 15 feet back, were what appeared to be, from the distance where I was sitting, were gold colored starfish and seashells attached to the ceiling. The brightest of the parks light post shone directly onto the rock's face entrance illuminating the whole scene in bright white light.
My first thought was some kind of Indian wedding taking place. But as I sat there, it seemed strangers (like myself) would enter the park and join in the festivities. The first I saw were a local young couple with a young baby in her arms. They walked to the oldest of the belly dancers and had an inaudible (to me) conversation upon which the four continued toward the overhang, lit a couple of incense sticks, kneeled and seemed to say a prayer to some small statue, about waist high, at the center of the entrance. The alter was some sort of motherly figure dressed in very colorful dress similar to the dancers, complete with gold necklaces, rings and bracelets. On either side of the shrine were two blankets in the sand covered in about a half dozen baskets each of fruits; bananas, apples, papaya, mango, grapes.
Enter the second character form outside the park. A young latin man wearing shorts and no t-shirt. He casually walked to the center of the three women dancing and began to dance with them in some seemingly drunk appearance sometimes stumbling but never falling with slow fluid like motions which matched the rhythms of the music. Maybe he wasn't drunk at all, but from a distance, he sure looked like he was inebriated. Several other groups entered talking to the oldest woman and performed some sort of similar ritual to the happenings under the overhang.
After about half an hour of watching, the second oldest dancer approached me and began speaking in Portuguese as I listened intently for a minute or two. When she finished I was going to say "fala ingles?" Do you speak english? When without a pause from her portuguese, she began her broken translation into English. I didn't realize straight off her transition to english. After a few sentences of English, I realized she was speaking English, I interrupted her and asked her to start over with her english translation. She did not seem the least bit irritated to be interrupted. She began to say that her group were a band of Gypsies here for a while and would be performing this ceremony every night for about a week longer.
The ceremony, open and free to anyone, was held to spread love peace and joy throughout the earth. She handed me four incense sticks and said to me if I wanted to I could go up to "the old mother" and ask her for a blessing of love peace and joy for me and all in my life. At this point they were wrapping up their ceremony, a car had entered the park and the participants were loading up the canned music and other items from the surrounding tables. The old mother had a couple with her as I approached. I bypassed her without interrupting, toward the overhang. Even with all the incense burning, the first thing I smelled was the ever present dry stale piss, and without thinking I said aloud in a normal voice to myself, "smells like piss here". People on either side seemed to understand as they gave me a strange bewildered look. I finished my sentence with "and incense also". They smiled and left me alone. I lit three of the incense sticks poking them into the apples. I said a prayer for my friends, and loved ones for love peace and joy. I hung out there admiring all the candles and incense for a few minutes. I lit the last stick turned around to approach the old mother and she was gone. Maybe another night. I carried the lit incense all the way back to the hostel.
Another day in the life of Chewy.
Eric
I went to the beach and played the harmonica for about an hour. Mostly Beatles songs but I also played some Bob Dylan, and Simon and Garfunkel. As the sun set , I walked along the beach toward a rocky cliff area between the two most popular beaches here in Rio, Copacabana and Impanema. There is a city park there with a peninsula (not sure of the spelling, as I think I found the spell check, ok now) jutting out into the ocean for a couple hundred yards by about 100 feet high. The waves were loudly crashing onto the rocks below. There were initially two surfers in the water when two approached the edge of the escarpment, tossed their boards in the water and jumped in after. The waves which didn't break on the peninsula were able to be ridden with ease by the surfers alongside the point towards the beach shore.
The park was fenced in with only one entrance/exit along the beach sidewalk. As I passed, I could hear what sounded like live music and through the bars (fence) I could see a couple of people dancing next to a head high overhang of rock. Under the overhang was a small fire and I could smell incense burning. After exploring the Rock peninsula until complete darkness watching the full (I think) moon come up, I returned towards the music to inquire.
Upon entering the fenced in area. There were three older women dancing wearing what appeared to be belly dancing costumes to what sounded like Indian music coming from a receiver with rather large quality speakers. I sat and watched for about thirty minutes. Under the rock overhang were many (at least 100) votive candles burning with several apples cut in half with 10-20 burning incense sticks stuck into each one. On the ceiling of the rock overhang, as it sloped down from the entrance all the way to the rear about 15 feet back, were what appeared to be, from the distance where I was sitting, were gold colored starfish and seashells attached to the ceiling. The brightest of the parks light post shone directly onto the rock's face entrance illuminating the whole scene in bright white light.
My first thought was some kind of Indian wedding taking place. But as I sat there, it seemed strangers (like myself) would enter the park and join in the festivities. The first I saw were a local young couple with a young baby in her arms. They walked to the oldest of the belly dancers and had an inaudible (to me) conversation upon which the four continued toward the overhang, lit a couple of incense sticks, kneeled and seemed to say a prayer to some small statue, about waist high, at the center of the entrance. The alter was some sort of motherly figure dressed in very colorful dress similar to the dancers, complete with gold necklaces, rings and bracelets. On either side of the shrine were two blankets in the sand covered in about a half dozen baskets each of fruits; bananas, apples, papaya, mango, grapes.
Enter the second character form outside the park. A young latin man wearing shorts and no t-shirt. He casually walked to the center of the three women dancing and began to dance with them in some seemingly drunk appearance sometimes stumbling but never falling with slow fluid like motions which matched the rhythms of the music. Maybe he wasn't drunk at all, but from a distance, he sure looked like he was inebriated. Several other groups entered talking to the oldest woman and performed some sort of similar ritual to the happenings under the overhang.
After about half an hour of watching, the second oldest dancer approached me and began speaking in Portuguese as I listened intently for a minute or two. When she finished I was going to say "fala ingles?" Do you speak english? When without a pause from her portuguese, she began her broken translation into English. I didn't realize straight off her transition to english. After a few sentences of English, I realized she was speaking English, I interrupted her and asked her to start over with her english translation. She did not seem the least bit irritated to be interrupted. She began to say that her group were a band of Gypsies here for a while and would be performing this ceremony every night for about a week longer.
The ceremony, open and free to anyone, was held to spread love peace and joy throughout the earth. She handed me four incense sticks and said to me if I wanted to I could go up to "the old mother" and ask her for a blessing of love peace and joy for me and all in my life. At this point they were wrapping up their ceremony, a car had entered the park and the participants were loading up the canned music and other items from the surrounding tables. The old mother had a couple with her as I approached. I bypassed her without interrupting, toward the overhang. Even with all the incense burning, the first thing I smelled was the ever present dry stale piss, and without thinking I said aloud in a normal voice to myself, "smells like piss here". People on either side seemed to understand as they gave me a strange bewildered look. I finished my sentence with "and incense also". They smiled and left me alone. I lit three of the incense sticks poking them into the apples. I said a prayer for my friends, and loved ones for love peace and joy. I hung out there admiring all the candles and incense for a few minutes. I lit the last stick turned around to approach the old mother and she was gone. Maybe another night. I carried the lit incense all the way back to the hostel.
Another day in the life of Chewy.
Eric
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Beachfront Coconut Trees
Hi all,
Last night I met a global traveler spending 7 months total at many locations throughout. After continental breakfast this morning, we deciced to walk towards a very large cemetary along the way to central Rio de Janeiro. This cemetary I saw from the top of Christ the Redeemer situated directly before the hostle I´m staying in now. The only thing between the hostle and the cemetary are two favelas (slums).
The favelas are literally built into the steep hillsides. The land has been acquired by the poor, similar to a squatters rights standard. During the heavy rains, the favelas suffer the devastations. I had heard of severe rains in Rio several months before arriving and have seen multiple landsides only in the favalas literally wiping swaths of slums from the hills. The cemetary was only about 1 mile over the gap between two mountains away from the beach where I´m staying or, the long way around to the cemetary about 3-4 miles around either on e of the mountains forming the gap in between. This was not a trip I would have taken alone or even at night with others.
The guide/tour information I had read about on the computers before arriving said the favelas are controlled by the drug lords and police protection is difficult to obtain. There are guided trips offered throughout the city although the information I read said part of the money people pay for the tour goes toward paying the drug lords for protection to allow tours to pass through the favelas unscathed. There is a very distinct difference or segregation between the business districts in the less steep areas of the city and the backdrop of the tall buildings along the mountainsides where the favalas lie.
I have always had a curiosity of getting away from the tourist locations and seeing how those less fortunate than myself live. So we took the direct route to the cemetary. There was a tunnel going directly through the mountain but just before the tunnel were very steep narrow stairs leading above the tunnel. Except only to stop a few times to catch our breaths on the stair climb and to take a few pictures, we walked comfortably out the other side entering the graveyard on the other side of the tunnel. The entry to the stairs at the tunnel came out on a narrow street close to the gap between the mountains. There were young kids playing soccer in the streets and a soccer field at the gap. The whole walk through smelled like you were walking just a few feet above open sewage.
The sewage smell is not so uncommon throughout the city. Seemingly, every street has the smell of stale urine and feces. Commonly, you can turn the corner from a local street market having the smells of fresh baked pastries and roasted corn to the wrench of people who have passed many nights before only to pee and poop in the pivacy of darkness on a tree or in the portico of a unoccupied building entrance. The steps leading straight up the steep hillside were wet, I couldn´t tell if from water seeping from the mountain or sewage, but the smells were of stale piss and raw sewage.
The stairs led steeply for several hundred yards coming out near the gap onto the street where you could hear the kids playing. Along the stairs, about every 15 steps would be a door to the left and right. This led to what I would call the porch of the house. Maybe three feet to the next door leading inside. I stopped briefly to catch my breath at one of the doors to my right. The porch was dirt and level for about 2 feet as it steeply dropped off to maintain the steepness of the stairs. The floor leading into the main door of the house was of dirt also. The exterior walls were of concrete forms for the first level and sheet metal and tin for the higher floors. I can only imagine what the structure inside might be of seeing dirt floors leading inside the house. The number of levels never exceeded three above the doorway. This was just a quick glimpse as I cought my breath and contineud on to the top. At one point on the way up, there was a narrow alleyway to the right of similar stairs going down.
Once out the other side of the two favelas, we entered the cemetary at the other end of the tunnel. The cemetary covered at least 15 city blocks of terrian. As we walked diagonally from the top right to the bottom left, I stopped occasionally to take pictures of some of the more interesting statues and figurines. Some with the contrasting favelas as a backdrop. We exited the cemetary, kept walking downhill to the beach on one of the main roads where we could hail a bus that would take us to downtown central. Neither of us were interested in doing anything touristy, just a walking tour. We passed the National Theater and the City Library and a very impressive Cathoic cathedral. The cathedral was pyramid shaped about 15 stories tall with stained glass leading up on all 4 cardinal points to the top, most visible from the inside which was open to the public. My new friend called it an upside down icecream cone.
As the day was getting late, we started walking back hitting different streets upon the return. We came across a shopping district with narrow side avenues for pedestrian traffic only. As we meandered through, neither of us shopping, we came out on the main thoroughfare where we hailed a bus that would take us back toward the hostle. One of the first smells upon getting off the bus was of yet again, stale urine. And this is supposed to be the world famous beach of Copacabana and Imbanema only blocks apart from one another. Eight lanes, four in either direction with a median of street vendors selling what I would call touristy stuff (junk). To the right, tall buildings (behind those, the favelas on the steep mountain sides), to the left, the ocean. An occasional petro station in the median. We decided to sit on a bench looking out on the beach as the sand became dark from the shade of the setting sun behind the buildings.
The only shade are the few coconut and palm trees along the beach. Occasionally, you might see a tourist sitting in the sand under them as a reprieve form the intense sun. The all to familiar smell gets noticably recognizable as you get closer to these groups of trees sparsly located along the beach front. Sitting there on the bench, my new travel companion tells me its not only the privacy of the city streets and porticos at night which are prone to the human necesity of relief, but also the coconut and palm trees receive the same attention. I can only laugh at the tourist sitting there in the shade, the coolness away from the sun. The smells of urine and feces buried inches below the sand seemingly everywhere but really in concentrated areas where one might gain a little privacy for quick relief.
Shanti, an African American female from California, and I have agreed on another adventure in the morining, to where who knows. Maybe it will be worth writing about tomorrow.
The hostle has bunk beds whereeach bunk has half the room underneath in order to lock up personal belongings. I´m glad I read about the hostle´s before arrive as the reviews suggested that you bring your own padlock. I feel somewhat safe leaving all behind under my bed locked up. Although, this morning, there was a sign on all the rooms saying "Attention Please! Pleae remove all yours belongings from the room until 11 am so we can do a maintenance for "Control of Plague" We are sorry for the inconvenience. Thank for your comprehension." I had heard of other complaining of small like fruit flies in their rooms but had not encountered them in my room. This is what they were spraying for. A language translation disagreement on the sign posted on the door made me slightly alarming but was quickly dispelled.
Chewy
Last night I met a global traveler spending 7 months total at many locations throughout. After continental breakfast this morning, we deciced to walk towards a very large cemetary along the way to central Rio de Janeiro. This cemetary I saw from the top of Christ the Redeemer situated directly before the hostle I´m staying in now. The only thing between the hostle and the cemetary are two favelas (slums).
The favelas are literally built into the steep hillsides. The land has been acquired by the poor, similar to a squatters rights standard. During the heavy rains, the favelas suffer the devastations. I had heard of severe rains in Rio several months before arriving and have seen multiple landsides only in the favalas literally wiping swaths of slums from the hills. The cemetary was only about 1 mile over the gap between two mountains away from the beach where I´m staying or, the long way around to the cemetary about 3-4 miles around either on e of the mountains forming the gap in between. This was not a trip I would have taken alone or even at night with others.
The guide/tour information I had read about on the computers before arriving said the favelas are controlled by the drug lords and police protection is difficult to obtain. There are guided trips offered throughout the city although the information I read said part of the money people pay for the tour goes toward paying the drug lords for protection to allow tours to pass through the favelas unscathed. There is a very distinct difference or segregation between the business districts in the less steep areas of the city and the backdrop of the tall buildings along the mountainsides where the favalas lie.
I have always had a curiosity of getting away from the tourist locations and seeing how those less fortunate than myself live. So we took the direct route to the cemetary. There was a tunnel going directly through the mountain but just before the tunnel were very steep narrow stairs leading above the tunnel. Except only to stop a few times to catch our breaths on the stair climb and to take a few pictures, we walked comfortably out the other side entering the graveyard on the other side of the tunnel. The entry to the stairs at the tunnel came out on a narrow street close to the gap between the mountains. There were young kids playing soccer in the streets and a soccer field at the gap. The whole walk through smelled like you were walking just a few feet above open sewage.
The sewage smell is not so uncommon throughout the city. Seemingly, every street has the smell of stale urine and feces. Commonly, you can turn the corner from a local street market having the smells of fresh baked pastries and roasted corn to the wrench of people who have passed many nights before only to pee and poop in the pivacy of darkness on a tree or in the portico of a unoccupied building entrance. The steps leading straight up the steep hillside were wet, I couldn´t tell if from water seeping from the mountain or sewage, but the smells were of stale piss and raw sewage.
The stairs led steeply for several hundred yards coming out near the gap onto the street where you could hear the kids playing. Along the stairs, about every 15 steps would be a door to the left and right. This led to what I would call the porch of the house. Maybe three feet to the next door leading inside. I stopped briefly to catch my breath at one of the doors to my right. The porch was dirt and level for about 2 feet as it steeply dropped off to maintain the steepness of the stairs. The floor leading into the main door of the house was of dirt also. The exterior walls were of concrete forms for the first level and sheet metal and tin for the higher floors. I can only imagine what the structure inside might be of seeing dirt floors leading inside the house. The number of levels never exceeded three above the doorway. This was just a quick glimpse as I cought my breath and contineud on to the top. At one point on the way up, there was a narrow alleyway to the right of similar stairs going down.
Once out the other side of the two favelas, we entered the cemetary at the other end of the tunnel. The cemetary covered at least 15 city blocks of terrian. As we walked diagonally from the top right to the bottom left, I stopped occasionally to take pictures of some of the more interesting statues and figurines. Some with the contrasting favelas as a backdrop. We exited the cemetary, kept walking downhill to the beach on one of the main roads where we could hail a bus that would take us to downtown central. Neither of us were interested in doing anything touristy, just a walking tour. We passed the National Theater and the City Library and a very impressive Cathoic cathedral. The cathedral was pyramid shaped about 15 stories tall with stained glass leading up on all 4 cardinal points to the top, most visible from the inside which was open to the public. My new friend called it an upside down icecream cone.
As the day was getting late, we started walking back hitting different streets upon the return. We came across a shopping district with narrow side avenues for pedestrian traffic only. As we meandered through, neither of us shopping, we came out on the main thoroughfare where we hailed a bus that would take us back toward the hostle. One of the first smells upon getting off the bus was of yet again, stale urine. And this is supposed to be the world famous beach of Copacabana and Imbanema only blocks apart from one another. Eight lanes, four in either direction with a median of street vendors selling what I would call touristy stuff (junk). To the right, tall buildings (behind those, the favelas on the steep mountain sides), to the left, the ocean. An occasional petro station in the median. We decided to sit on a bench looking out on the beach as the sand became dark from the shade of the setting sun behind the buildings.
The only shade are the few coconut and palm trees along the beach. Occasionally, you might see a tourist sitting in the sand under them as a reprieve form the intense sun. The all to familiar smell gets noticably recognizable as you get closer to these groups of trees sparsly located along the beach front. Sitting there on the bench, my new travel companion tells me its not only the privacy of the city streets and porticos at night which are prone to the human necesity of relief, but also the coconut and palm trees receive the same attention. I can only laugh at the tourist sitting there in the shade, the coolness away from the sun. The smells of urine and feces buried inches below the sand seemingly everywhere but really in concentrated areas where one might gain a little privacy for quick relief.
Shanti, an African American female from California, and I have agreed on another adventure in the morining, to where who knows. Maybe it will be worth writing about tomorrow.
The hostle has bunk beds whereeach bunk has half the room underneath in order to lock up personal belongings. I´m glad I read about the hostle´s before arrive as the reviews suggested that you bring your own padlock. I feel somewhat safe leaving all behind under my bed locked up. Although, this morning, there was a sign on all the rooms saying "Attention Please! Pleae remove all yours belongings from the room until 11 am so we can do a maintenance for "Control of Plague" We are sorry for the inconvenience. Thank for your comprehension." I had heard of other complaining of small like fruit flies in their rooms but had not encountered them in my room. This is what they were spraying for. A language translation disagreement on the sign posted on the door made me slightly alarming but was quickly dispelled.
Chewy
Monday, June 14, 2010
Shoe Scam
I joined an informal group today to see Christ the Redeemer situated high atop a mountain overlooking Rio. What a beautiful 360 degree sight. The youth hostel wanted R$135 (US8$84) for a tour. I was going by myself when Kathryn (mentioned in previous blog) said her and two guys from Chile were going there also. We did our own tour by taking a city bus. Upon being dropped off at the base, we dabated walking the 8km to the top (approx 2500ft). With her plane leaving back to London at 10pm, we decided to take a taxi to the top. Im so glad we took the taxi as there were long stretches of narrow very steep road with sharp switchbacks and parts with no sidewalks. As the favelas (slums) are built on the steep mountainsides, the road also passed through one of these along the way. The bus was R$2.35x2, taxi R$15 and park pass R$16.5 for a grand total of US$22.50. I feel a greater sense of aculturation is acquired through doing things on your own rather than through a tour group. I never have liked the tour experience.
On the way back, we departed the bus at the first stop along Copacabana in order to walk along the beach back to the hostel. As we passed another intricately carved sand castle, I stopped to take a few pictures as the sun set. Feeling frugal, I tossed the first coin that entered my hand into the artists basket in front of the castle. This coin could have been anywhere from 1 centavos to 1 real. Several in the group next to the castle, I´m sure the artists among them did not seem to like my gesture of a coin in the cup. Within 3 steps, a sticky gooey moist mixture landed on my left sandal and all between my toes. As I tried to kick it off, another from a different direction was bending down while offering profusely to clean up the mess. He just happened to have a handfull of paper towels.
Reading about Rio and metro South America, this may have been what is called the shoe scam. An oblivious tourist with a camera waiting to be robbed. As the man with the towels tries to divert my attention, others in the act could quickly approach to steal my camera or other personal belongings. I had no idea who threw the mix but I instantaneously thought of this and quickened my pace. The towel guy kept up with my pace pleading nicely to help clean my foot. As I looked down at my foot, the mess looked and smelled like runny shit. Not until I caught up with my companions did the towel guy retreat to try another unsuspecting tourist. Several blocks later, as we went our seperate ways, I walked into the ocean and used the sand to cleanse my foot and sandal.
I went to the university this morning. The people close to me on the bus were very helpful in my questions in location of the language department. One female student got off at the same stop as I and pointed out which building I could find administration of the language department. Walking aimlessly upon entering the large building, I passed students exiting a class. I walked in and asked the professor ´fala (speak) ingles?´ as he said yes. He walked me to the other side of the building to the person´s office whom I needed to see. Eva made a copy of my passport, gave my some information of nearby apartments (as where I am at now is 45 minutes by bus to the university). she took contact information and said I would be emailed soon. The Portuguese language class doesn´t start until July 5, three weeks from today.
Chewy
On the way back, we departed the bus at the first stop along Copacabana in order to walk along the beach back to the hostel. As we passed another intricately carved sand castle, I stopped to take a few pictures as the sun set. Feeling frugal, I tossed the first coin that entered my hand into the artists basket in front of the castle. This coin could have been anywhere from 1 centavos to 1 real. Several in the group next to the castle, I´m sure the artists among them did not seem to like my gesture of a coin in the cup. Within 3 steps, a sticky gooey moist mixture landed on my left sandal and all between my toes. As I tried to kick it off, another from a different direction was bending down while offering profusely to clean up the mess. He just happened to have a handfull of paper towels.
Reading about Rio and metro South America, this may have been what is called the shoe scam. An oblivious tourist with a camera waiting to be robbed. As the man with the towels tries to divert my attention, others in the act could quickly approach to steal my camera or other personal belongings. I had no idea who threw the mix but I instantaneously thought of this and quickened my pace. The towel guy kept up with my pace pleading nicely to help clean my foot. As I looked down at my foot, the mess looked and smelled like runny shit. Not until I caught up with my companions did the towel guy retreat to try another unsuspecting tourist. Several blocks later, as we went our seperate ways, I walked into the ocean and used the sand to cleanse my foot and sandal.
I went to the university this morning. The people close to me on the bus were very helpful in my questions in location of the language department. One female student got off at the same stop as I and pointed out which building I could find administration of the language department. Walking aimlessly upon entering the large building, I passed students exiting a class. I walked in and asked the professor ´fala (speak) ingles?´ as he said yes. He walked me to the other side of the building to the person´s office whom I needed to see. Eva made a copy of my passport, gave my some information of nearby apartments (as where I am at now is 45 minutes by bus to the university). she took contact information and said I would be emailed soon. The Portuguese language class doesn´t start until July 5, three weeks from today.
Chewy
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Castles in the Sand
I slept from 4 till 8 tonight. When I awoke it was completely dark outside. This is my first time south of the equator. Similar to our winter, the sun disappears very early in the evening. I took a walk along one of the main streets parallel to the beach looking for food to eat. I had only a pack of peanuts while searching for a hostel since a ham and cheese crausant, some darjiling tea flavored cookie and a peach fruit cup served this morning on the airplane. The breakfast I ate while watching the sun rise towards the left side of the airplane. Even though smoking is prohibited on the plane, this morning, the flight attendants rolled carts selling duty free items such as cigarettes by the carton and liquor by the bottle with sweets, perfumes, jewelery. I asked about the cigarettes, US$33 for Marlboro in the red and white carton. I don´t know if this is a good price as I don´t smoke.
While taking my frequent walks on the plane, I met one of the flight attendants named Andy. There was a section at the rear next to the bathroom and an emergency exit where the attendants stored their carts for service. Andy was from San Francisco but based out of Charlotte. This was his third time to Rio and he said he would have a 35 hour layover where he could sleep twice and spend some time as a tourist to see Christ the Redemer situated on top of a mountain overlooking Rio and the Atlantic ocean (one of the wonders of the world). I said I would like to go there in a few days after I settle in. He asked me of other places I had traveled to and I mentioned having lived in Costa Rica twice. We spoke in Spanish for awhile as he told me of his many work trips to Costa Rica as he has a Costa Rican wife. She happened to grow up in Allahuela (where the San Jose airport is, a suburb of the capital). Through the rest of the flight he would call me by name every time he passed and would ask frequently if I needed any more water, of which I drank a lot. He even filled up my quart water bottle before exiting the plane this morning.
Pedro, who I met at customs, refused to take any money from me as I told him I had Reis (plural for Real), the local currency. In Portuguese, this is pronounced like hey-ice and in the singular form the L´s are pronounced like an ow making it sound like hey-ow (the ow being the slang word for ouch). He pointed out various landmark along the way to the beaches while giving me valuable information about what buses and where to take them from the hostels to the University. When the taxi driver dropped me off, he unloaded all the luggage on the back seat thinking the luggege was mine. The driver heard I would be here for six months and was surprised to see my only belongings was a small backpack with room to spare.
My room at the hostel is bare except for four bunk beds along each of the walls. There is a door leading to the bathroom which contains a very small sink, a hook to hang your clothes and just about enough room to turn around in. The room is full capacity (8). I thought the rooms would be segregated by sex but this is not the case. There are two young women. Kathryn is from London and I have yet to meet the other. The others I have met are two from Isreal, one from Holland, one from Chile and one from India. I have yet to meet anyone from the USA.
I was lying in my bed reading when Kathryn came in and asked my if I wanted to join the group and go to a clup somewhere. She began to ask which dress she should wear, the black or the purple. She began to change right there in front of me and two other guys in the room. Putting modesty aside, she slipped on her dress while slipping down her tank top and skirt. I declined her invitation tp gp clubbing as I wanted to read, type and spend some time relaxing.
As for my first meal in Rio, after walking about a mile reading various menus and prices, I came upon a grocery. I bought several slices of deli turkey and cheese, a bell pepper and a small tomato. With food in hand, I walked two blocks to the beach to eat. I wanted to wash the veggies so I took them to the water and washed them with the sand. The beach drops steeply into the water where the breaking waves are huge. Bigger than any I have ever seen. 12 to 15 ft breaking waves are common with peaks approaching more. With the steepness of the beach, these waves break so close to shore. There are DO NOT SWIM signs all along the beaches. The tide was close to high. As I sat on the 2 foot ledge marking high tide, I bagan to eat. During an oblivious moment, I guess one of the larger breaking waves rushed water over the ledge where I was eating. In the last second before being drenched from the thighs down, I looked up in the instant I grabbed the cheese off my knee and headed for higher ground. My turkey didn´t make it to my hands as I saw the five slices about 15 feet down from where I had been sitting. They were partially covered in sand like a flounder. I took all five pieces, washed the sand off one by one and ate them. After I finished the turkey I thought of the ocean water being polluted next to such a major city. I guess we´ll see what happens.
I havn´t taken any photos yet, but while walking along the beach after eating, I came across a very intricately carved sand castle spanding about 3 or four yards by chest high. I stood there in awe of the beauty of the sculpture. I intend to go back tomorrow to take a few pictures during daylight.
I look forward to your correspondence when you can write.
Eric
While taking my frequent walks on the plane, I met one of the flight attendants named Andy. There was a section at the rear next to the bathroom and an emergency exit where the attendants stored their carts for service. Andy was from San Francisco but based out of Charlotte. This was his third time to Rio and he said he would have a 35 hour layover where he could sleep twice and spend some time as a tourist to see Christ the Redemer situated on top of a mountain overlooking Rio and the Atlantic ocean (one of the wonders of the world). I said I would like to go there in a few days after I settle in. He asked me of other places I had traveled to and I mentioned having lived in Costa Rica twice. We spoke in Spanish for awhile as he told me of his many work trips to Costa Rica as he has a Costa Rican wife. She happened to grow up in Allahuela (where the San Jose airport is, a suburb of the capital). Through the rest of the flight he would call me by name every time he passed and would ask frequently if I needed any more water, of which I drank a lot. He even filled up my quart water bottle before exiting the plane this morning.
Pedro, who I met at customs, refused to take any money from me as I told him I had Reis (plural for Real), the local currency. In Portuguese, this is pronounced like hey-ice and in the singular form the L´s are pronounced like an ow making it sound like hey-ow (the ow being the slang word for ouch). He pointed out various landmark along the way to the beaches while giving me valuable information about what buses and where to take them from the hostels to the University. When the taxi driver dropped me off, he unloaded all the luggage on the back seat thinking the luggege was mine. The driver heard I would be here for six months and was surprised to see my only belongings was a small backpack with room to spare.
My room at the hostel is bare except for four bunk beds along each of the walls. There is a door leading to the bathroom which contains a very small sink, a hook to hang your clothes and just about enough room to turn around in. The room is full capacity (8). I thought the rooms would be segregated by sex but this is not the case. There are two young women. Kathryn is from London and I have yet to meet the other. The others I have met are two from Isreal, one from Holland, one from Chile and one from India. I have yet to meet anyone from the USA.
I was lying in my bed reading when Kathryn came in and asked my if I wanted to join the group and go to a clup somewhere. She began to ask which dress she should wear, the black or the purple. She began to change right there in front of me and two other guys in the room. Putting modesty aside, she slipped on her dress while slipping down her tank top and skirt. I declined her invitation tp gp clubbing as I wanted to read, type and spend some time relaxing.
As for my first meal in Rio, after walking about a mile reading various menus and prices, I came upon a grocery. I bought several slices of deli turkey and cheese, a bell pepper and a small tomato. With food in hand, I walked two blocks to the beach to eat. I wanted to wash the veggies so I took them to the water and washed them with the sand. The beach drops steeply into the water where the breaking waves are huge. Bigger than any I have ever seen. 12 to 15 ft breaking waves are common with peaks approaching more. With the steepness of the beach, these waves break so close to shore. There are DO NOT SWIM signs all along the beaches. The tide was close to high. As I sat on the 2 foot ledge marking high tide, I bagan to eat. During an oblivious moment, I guess one of the larger breaking waves rushed water over the ledge where I was eating. In the last second before being drenched from the thighs down, I looked up in the instant I grabbed the cheese off my knee and headed for higher ground. My turkey didn´t make it to my hands as I saw the five slices about 15 feet down from where I had been sitting. They were partially covered in sand like a flounder. I took all five pieces, washed the sand off one by one and ate them. After I finished the turkey I thought of the ocean water being polluted next to such a major city. I guess we´ll see what happens.
I havn´t taken any photos yet, but while walking along the beach after eating, I came across a very intricately carved sand castle spanding about 3 or four yards by chest high. I stood there in awe of the beauty of the sculpture. I intend to go back tomorrow to take a few pictures during daylight.
I look forward to your correspondence when you can write.
Eric
I have arrived in rio. Another rionese person Pablo, I met at the rio airport offered to take me in a taxi to the central location where he dropped me off at a hostel (just 2 blocks form the beach, he then continued on after giving me his email and phone #. I wanted to check out the other 5 hostels I had addresses to before making a decision. I started walking toward the city center in search of the other hostels all within 5 miles. At the end of the search, I decided on one a few blocks back. So here I am. The hostel at the end of my search is where I might return to tomorrow only a few blocks away as it is R$11 cheaper (US$7) but they had no rooms available tonight. The difference in the 2 hostels were R$36 and R$25 (US$22.36 and US$15.53) Upon taking a shower, with soap in my eyes and hair, the water ran out and stayed out for about 15 minutes. With eyes stinging, wondering what to do, I quickly dressed and went to talk with the person at the front desk. She said it was best to take a shower in the night as the water tank fills during the day. Upon returning to the shower, the water was back on and I completed my shower. The shower head here is like the one´s used in Costa Rica. You have only one water control, cold. The shower head consists of a small container which has a heating element inside. The lower the cold water presure applied at the faucet the longer the water has to heat up before exiting through the perforations.
The plane trip was uneventful. My legs and feet began to swell as is expected. About every thirty minutes, if not sleeping, I would get up and walk the aisles. The little sleep I had was good but I sure am tired now. I think Ill try to take a nap now the soap is out of my eyes.
In the morning, I plan to visit the University of Rio de Janeiro to check in.
Eric aka Chewy
The plane trip was uneventful. My legs and feet began to swell as is expected. About every thirty minutes, if not sleeping, I would get up and walk the aisles. The little sleep I had was good but I sure am tired now. I think Ill try to take a nap now the soap is out of my eyes.
In the morning, I plan to visit the University of Rio de Janeiro to check in.
Eric aka Chewy
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