Paraty 2

Supposedly Paraty sprung into existence thanks to the gold trade. Gold from Minas Gerais, inland, needed to get to Rio de Janeiro. The only way to get it there was over the Serra do Mar (a 1,500 km long system of mountain ranges and escarpments). The only place you can scale the mountains easily enough to cart big sacks of gold is near Paraty. Passing the waterfalls and little villages cramped against the mountains, it’s easy to imagine Portuguese settlers (and their slaves) labouring over the mountains for the good of the empire. Sending me deeper into imaginationland were the guidebook's hints of piracy. Where there was gold, there were pirates and local legend has it that one of Paraty’s churches, Igreja Matriz da Nossa Senhora dos Remédios, was funded by a discovery of hidden pirate gold. People in the town still talk about finding hidden pirate treasure today. We didn't find any despite looking out for big Xs on the ground the whole time we were there.

We arrived in the early afternoon and fortunately it stopped raining long enough for us to find a hotel. It was a beautiful, old manor on the edge of the town’s central square. Our hotel had a view of the pirate church through lush fruit trees and a horse pulling. . . something.

The streets are all rough cobblestones and the city centre is closed to traffic (hence the horse-powered golf cart) so it’s a very pleasant place to wander. As long as you steer clear of the pirates. . . My wife bravely followed Captain Sparrow for a few hundred metres. 

On our first evening it poured rain so we hit the bar next door and got a bite to eat and a beer or four. We poked around town a bit during the next couple of days. Unfortunately, we really didn’t get great beach weather. Mostly cloudy and a bit rainy but at least Paraty was interesting enough to keep us occupied. We did go looking for a beach well recommended in Lonely Planet but it seemed to have misled us so we just explored a bit on our own.

We found some nice views. 

Some strange tidal movements. (It does this every full moon high tide. I’m not entirely clear why the city was designed to let sea water run through it once a month but there it is. Are we lucky to have witnessed it? I suppose, but it was a pain trying to find a dry way back to the hotel.) 

 An overgrown fort once used to protect Paraty from piracy.

Pirate Bay.

Some hammocks in one of the many tourist shops.

Our dinner, which looks like barf but was really good. Mango fish, our first true Brazilian cuisine at a restaurant called Casa do Fuego.

We found a frog in our hotel lobby; I love its amber eyes.

And discovered some very unusual plants in the garden at breakfast on our first morning. Never got round to looking them up but I’ve never seen anything like them anywhere else I’ve been (except for a few other places in Brazil). 

Paraty

After another steamy night we were happy to be on the road to someplace we hoped would be more suited to the climate. We headed to the bus station early and (in what would become another running theme) the bus turned out to be nicer than our hotel room.

A bit of an aside here. With the exception of Bolivia, intercity buses in most South America are not what you might expect. They are nice. Very nice. They make most airlines look bad and all other buses I’ve seen look absurdly shitty (that’s right Greyhound, I’m talking to you). Imagine, if you can, a bus with A/C, very comfortable, (almost horizontally) reclining chairs, sort of clean bathrooms, assigned seating and even decent dinner service in Argentina and Peru. There appear to be two main reasons for the quality. First, a lot of people use buses rather than planes. There is a huge lower-middle class in Brazil and Argentina (where I'm guessing this trend began) and they need to travel to do business, visit family and go on holiday but they can’t always afford to fly. We were almost always the only tourists on the buses, so the industry is booming and it’s supported almost entirely by the local economy. Second, there is a lot of competition. If a company doesn’t have dinner or comfy seats they’ll have trouble keeping customers.

Heading to Paraty I noticed a few things outside of the bus as well. Firstly, now that we were headed to the beach it was raining and it rained pretty much all day. A good day for a bus ride but a bit of an ill omen for our coming beach days. Secondly, there were cows grazing under palm trees. I tried about a dozen times to get a good picture of this Brazilian phenomenon but I never managed a good shot from the bus window. Thirdly, waterfalls in Brazil are almost as common as trees. One that we passed an hour or so from Paraty was at least a hundred metres high. In any other country it would be a big deal, but in Brazil? Meh, there are like six more around the corner. The few hours on our luxury transport passed quickly, as my wife slept most of the way and I day-dreamed out the window, trying to imagine what it would have been like a few hundred years ago when the Portuguese settled. 

Sao Paulo Part 4

Our walk back to the hotel was much less strenuous but we realized the trek to the subway with our packs the next day would be a brutal start to our back-packing experience. So much for easing into things. Oh well, tomorrow we would be on the beach in Parati, supposedly a gorgeous town just two hours away. It was enough of a carrot to get us up those hills the next day.

We had dinner at a sushi place just around the corner from our hotel. It was run by Japanese (looking) people that only spoke Portuguese. I wish we had gone to visit Liberdade, the Japanese “quarter” of the city. I’ll add that to my list of reasons to go back some day. The list also includes a visit to Daslu, Sao Paulo’s most absurd over-the-top designer shopping emporium. You aren’t allowed to arrive by foot. You at least need a car, though a helicopter is preferable (there is a landing pad on the roof). Since I forgot to pack my fancy shoes, we decided not to go, but next time, next time. . . A lot of people would probably ask why the hell I’d want to visit a place like that. In my mind, it’s sort of like a visit to the Creationist Museum in the US. You have to go just to see if it really exists. The mall is controversial for tax evasion which resulted in a USD$112 million fine. It’s also located right beside Coliseu, one of Sao Paulo’s many favelas, serving as profound representation of the economic inequality in Brazilian society.

On that happier note, next stop: the beach.

I don’t have a lot of pictures from Sao Paulo because we weren’t there for long and I was timid about taking our camera out on the first dizzying day we spent there. Coming posts will be better.

Street art near our hotel

Daslu – notice the helipad:

(Courtesy of wikipedia)

Sao Paulo Part 3

I left my wife in the hotel while I went in search of water and a bank. I found both fairly quickly and headed back to the room to see if my wife wanted to get something to eat. We decided we should go for an early dinner rather than just go straight to bed so we set out in search of something cheap and interesting. As you can imagine, cheap in Jardins was going to be hard to come by. We looked half-heartedly for a Brazilian restaurant with Brazilian food and found absolutely nothing with even the slightest suggestion of our host country’s cuisine. Nothing but Italian and Japanese restaurants stretching throughout this bejewelled district. We settled on a cheapish pizza café and had our first taste of South American pizza (something that became a bit of a running theme on our trip). Fortunately we hit a good joint. We shared a litre of beer, which basically knocked us off our fatigued feet and we headed for bed.


That night we talked about what to do with the monstrosity of Sao Paulo. Were we going to put in the effort and try to find something to love about this megopolis or would we head straight for the beach? My wife was keen to move on, disliking the crowds, noise and general fear of the unknown that goes along with a city like this. I wanted to at least get something from Sampa before hitting the road but that first night basically decided for us. Our room did not have a fan and it was pretty hot, so we opened the window praying for the slightest of breezes to come our way, no such luck. In fact, with an open window it was worse as the street noise was brutal. We seemed to be on a main trucking thoroughfare which meant we had large vehicles roaring past all night. Staying where we were for more time than had already paid for seemed out of the question. So, we decided that Sao Paulo would be cast aside in favour of the beckoning beach towns just up the coast.


The next day we did our best to see something of Sao Paulo before moving on. We decided to forgo the museums, landmarks, clubs and boutiques in favour of a botanical garden a little ways south of the Jardins area. It sounds crazy to be in need of green space after just 24 hours in the city but Sao Paulo is overwhelming like that. If we lived there, I could see enjoying a lot of things about the experience. There is an abundance of events happening all the time, with innumerable theatres, galleries, museums and clubs everywhere you go. But for just a few days, well, the best thing to do is just wander around and watch people. And that’s what we did. We went to a supermarket and got some cheap sandwiches, and the largest orange I’ve ever seen, and headed to the park to have lunch with a couple of hundred other office workers on their breaks. The walk was tough, up and down (but mostly up) the many hills that the city is built on but it was worth it for the park, a gorgeous space, offering some respite from the bustle of the city. We found a big spider to poke and my wife took some pictures of flowers. We had our first tropical rain in the late afternoon, a reminder that we still didn’t have umbrellas or rain coats.


(As this was the beginning of our trip, and we were being extra cautious in this "kidnapping" capital of the world, we unfortunately have no pictures of our own to share. Our apologies, but not to worry, there are a very many to share later.)

Sao Paulo Part 2

Things I knew about Sao Paulo before I started doing research for our trip:


- It’s big. (Though I never could have truly conceived how big.)
- It’s polluted.
- It’s quite a dangerous city (for some people), being one of the kidnapping capitals of the world.
- If you’re driving at night you don’t stop at red lights unless there are other cars going through the intersection. (To avoid car-jacking and kidnapping.)


Most of those bits of information, I gained from watching a Manda Bala, a movie about kidnapping in Sao Paulo. Naturally the movie offers a pretty grim outlook on life in Sao Paulo. There were interviews with kidnappers, some guy who took emergency driver’s education in case he was faced with a car-jacking situation, and kidnapees and there were gruesome descriptions of ear amputations. Being naturally optimistic I figured most kidnappings are directed at wealthy Paulista families and since we were dressed like travelling bums, no need to worry. I also didn’t mention to my wife that we were more likely to be kidnapped during those few days in Sao Paulo than at any point in the rest of our lives.


Things I learned during our short stay in Sao Paulo:


- It’s built on hills. My god, so many hills.
- There are lots of very, very rich people there.
- There are a lot of (originally) Japanese people in the city.
- The air pollution was not that bad (but I wouldn’t want to be breathing it every day I guess).
- It’s not the most fun place to visit but I think living there would have a lot of potential.
- The subway system is awesome.


After our incredible journey into town we found ourselves in the Jardins district. I specifically chose a place in this area because it was supposed to be the safest, swankiest area of the city, a good place to ease ourselves into travelling and hopefully not get mugged in our dazed, post-flight state. Well, even with guidebook descriptions, I did not expect Jardins to be as elite as it is. It is basically like the Champs-Elysees area of Paris, with absurdly expensive designer boutiques, luxury apartments, and a whole bunch of sushi restaurants.

(Courtesy of Panoramio.)

The Armani store had three well-armed, tuxedoed private security men (and more inside) leaning against the entrance. Ditto for most other high end shops. All the residence buildings have multiple guards and double sets of gates (first one has to close before the second one will open). Men and women of obvious wealth flash expensive cameras and wallets filled with large bills. Every other car costs more than a lot of Paulistas will make in their lifetimes.

Brazil - Sao Paulo

Our connection in Toronto was almost a disaster. The plane from Winnipeg was late and we had to hustle to get to our next flight to Sao Paulo. We ran like idiots for about 15 minutes across what seemed like the whole of Pearson Airport to get to our gate only find that our flight was delayed for 2 hours. In the end we weren’t the biggest fools of the day though. The flight was delayed because a couple hadn’t done their pre-holiday research to find out that Canadians need a very expensive visa for Brazil. Somehow they snuck through the preliminary check only to be stopped right at the gate with no Brazilian visas. We had to wait while they found the couple’s luggage and sent them back to miserably cold Toronto.


Aside from the delay, the flight was pretty smoothly. There was an unbelievably cute Brazilian baby ahead of us. A complete anti-wet cat baby. All he did was giggle at pretty much everything.


Guarulhos Airport is quite a ways out of the city centre and the taxi ride to our hotel was impressive. With a metropolitan area of almost 20 million people Sao Paulo feels enormous and for good reason. Entering Sao Paulo was epic, and thinking back now, in spite of seeing a lot of amazing things, I think that trip into the city is on my highlights list. Following an eight lane super highway (crunched painfully down into three in some places because of construction) we zipped (and crawled) past shanties overlooking large open canals with horrible brown water oozing by, past gigantic glass complexes with luxurious apartments in their own little safe zones and past rusting industrial parks and sports grounds, all the while gazing on towards a city skyline packed with buildings as far as we could see.

Winnipeg Part 2

My wife had seen snow before, in Paris, but not proper stay-on-the-ground-for-months-in-five-foot-drifts kind of snow. She got to make a snow angel for the first time and we tried to make a snowman one day when it was only around -10 but it was still too cold and dry. We made a tiny one, but he was a bit malformed.

Another key element of my wife’s cultural initiation was her first tobogganing experience, which went about as badly as it possibly could have:

Wife: I’m not going down there, it’s so steep. . .
Me: No it’s not, it’ll be great.
Wife: I’m just going to get hurt.
Me: Psh! No one ever gets hurt tobogganing. C’mon this is a great Canadian experience. You’re marrying into this culture.
Wife: Ok, fine.

We both get on a sled. I give us a good push and we go flying down the hill. We hit a bump at the bottom and my wife gets launched off and rolls a bit. 

Wife: My tailbone!
Me: Umm. . .
Wife: Ow, you said I wouldn’t get hurt!
Me: Well. . .
Wife: I knew it! Why did I listen to you?
Me: Dunno. Want to go again?

She didn’t want to go again.

A couple of days before we headed for Brazil, my wife got her first acceptance letter from Concordia, which took a bit of stress away. No matter what, she had a place to go once we got back to Canada and after that she was able to direct her fears towards the wedding and our impending vacation.

The wedding was a great success. That is to say, we got married without anyone objecting and we had a nice dinner. There was a ceremony, instead of just a paper signing as we had originally intended, which made my grandparents happy. We chose February 19th which meant that it would be around the right time for discount Valentine’s day chocolate.

After the wedding was over, my wife turned her anxiety towards our trip, wondering how she would survive backpacking for six months. I owe her big on this one. I know she probably just really wanted a relaxing two week holiday at a beach resort for her honeymoon but I got so excited about the prospect of a six month vacation that she just couldn’t refuse me. I was fairly sure she would enjoy herself once we got going but I know she has a lower tolerance level for alien things and the general discomforts that come with backpacking than I do.

I have to admit to feeling a little anxious myself. I’d traveled a lot but never on a trip of this scale before. We had only booked our first room in Sao Paulo and after that we were cut free and we’d have to figure things out as they came. I was reasonably sure that we wouldn’t have any problems on our trip but you there’s always a what if, lurking. Anyway, we had our bases covered and I’d done my research. Malaria meds, insurance and common sense. What could go wrong?

Winnipeg

Our trip to Canada was easy enough but our navigation through the immigration officer's questions was tortuous. I was fine, but they gave my wife a bit of a work over. She had onward tickets to Brazil but not a return ticket to anywhere since we had only booked tickets as far as the return to the USA. Where is she going after? Why are you in Canada? How long are you staying? I don't understand, why are you in Canada? When are you leaving Canada? Will you go back to Belgium? And so on. . . After about 15 minutes of this, we managed to convince the cranky woman that we were in fact getting married, going on a honeymoon and my wife would be coming back as a student as opposed to a leech on the welfare system. . . because Canada's is sooooo much better than Belgium's.

A couple of very slow hours in Montreal, then a dopey plane ride, and finally Winnipeg! Winnipeg, land of ice, snow, and generally understated people. That's what we chose for our wedding, in what is typically the coldest part of the year. . . early February. But more on that later.

Typical Winnipeg street in the heart of winter:

Greeted by the open arms of family my wife has never met, dazed and uncertain of the next chapter in our lives, we disembarked to Winnipeg “International” Airport. Our belongings arrived without incident and we quickly headed for the exits. We only had a sweatshirt each to face February in Winnipeg but fortunately my grandparents brought us both jackets. When you're away from that cold, you forget what it's really like. You vaguely remember the discomfort but you forget that when it's -30 you feel increasingly intense physical pain. Your nose loses feeling almost immediately and it hurts to breathe. We survived a short walk to the car (and its cozy heating) and headed for our pre-South America temporary home, my grandmother's house. After a few hours of catching up, talking about various pieces of news from both ends of the world, we headed for bed.

Our basic plan for the two weeks we had in Winnipeg was:

- buy a few key items for South America (backpack, mosquito net, swimsuit, malarone, etc)
- get traveller’s cheques
- organize our bank accounts
- print a bunch stuff out (e-tickets, travel insurance, passport copies, etc)
- visit relatives
- finish my wife’s university applications
- oh, and get married

We also spent some quality time watching the Olympics. A friend of ours was competing as a speed skater for New Zealand. He didn’t win, but we love him all the same. 
 

The Beginning.

In February, my wife (then fiancée) and I quit our jobs to go travelling for six months. We found a temporary home for our cat, packed up our junk for shipping to Canada, headed to Winnipeg for a stopover and the caught a flight to Sao Paulo. Our trip started in South Brazil and we passed through eight countries, ultimately ending in Cartagena, Colombia 5 months later. We also spent a month in the USA but I haven’t decided if I’ll go into that here. 


My wife and I kept a diary and I’ve been meaning to put it into some sort of comprehensible form for months now, mostly because my mother-in-law keeps asking me about it. So, anyone who reads this is my travel writing test subject. It starts out a bit long-winded because I don’t have many pictures from the first couple of days of our trip but I promise that will improve after Sao Paulo.

The UAE 

(Courtesy of Bob C.)

My wife quit her job in time for one last week of fun in the sun before heading into the unknown (after a quick stop in the “the known all too well” of Winnipeg). We said our goodbyes, had some very good curry with family and friends and headed for the airport, where we got to see the largest enclosed building in the world (by area) that is the Emirates terminal at Dubai International Airport. 

(Courtesy of Wikipedia.)

My wife proceeded to spill Lucozade all over their nice white floor. It was sticky and beyond our cleaning capabilities so we quickly headed for another seating area. Apologies to the cleaning staff.

The flight from Dubai to London was fine except there was this baby that cried exactly like our cat does when we give her a bath. My wife said it made her miss our cat, who was lodging with a very kind friend of my parents. It just made me want to change seats.

Twenty-four hours later it was touchdown in Winnipeg.