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
Sunday, June 27, 2010
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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