31 May 2010

Testing my patience with Asunción

What does is take to crack a Finn for 15 minutes?
A lovely Friday morning full of sun shine on Ilha do Mel.
+ Boat ride to Pontal do Sul.
+ Bus to Curitiba, a dinner and waiting for 5 hours.
+ 10 hour night bus to Foz do Iguacu.
+ Local bus to the Brazilian border.
+ Walking across the bridge of friendship with my backpacks to the Paraguayn border officials.
+ Local bus to the long distance bus terminal.
+ 6 hour bus ride to Asuncion.
+ 1 hour local bus to the centre.
+ the bus driver doesn't tell you where to get off like he promised, the hostel isn't where their website said it would be and 5 people give different but all false instructions on how to find the hostel, any cybercafe or the street hostel is on and got you to walk around aimlessly for almost two hours dead tired carrying two big backpacks
= time to take a seat by the side of the road and weep

After 15 minutes I took out my Lonely Planet 2007 looked up the closest hotel (Hotel Miami, 60000 guarani, 9€ per night) and checked in. After having a long hot shower, and discovering that my bed in confy, I've got a cabel TV and wifi in this room for 4 all for me, my hate for Asunción was becoming a vague memory. After going out to see a Guns n' Roses cover concert with a local CSer Rodrigo and having a way too sugary Piña Colada for 15000g (2€) I had already forgotten why I ever hated it in the first place.

Asunción
Sunday was sunny and after having my last skype call with Erik before his arrival to Brazil on Tuesday I took a long walk around the empty streets of Asunción. Empty, because absolutely everything is closed on Sundays, supermarkets and cafés too.

The parks were pretty, but surrounded by small very shady looking huts on the sea shore and at least 5 militaries guarding every decent looking building nearby. The incredibly amount of poverty and military power didn't look too good for me, but Rodrigo told me, that's how the people want to; they long for a new dictator who would make the streets safe again. No matter the price. Pigs running around in the trash piles and little kids flying their kites right next to them just one block from the city's top tourist attractions. Many streets look like those of a war zone filled with piles of rocks and dirt, while closed for repairs for 3-6 months depending on the weather. How many world capitals could close central streets for months and months just like that?



Lame pics?
Sorry, ran out of batteries and all the stores are closed. Use your imagination.

Food thought of the day
This, my cheap (5 reias, 2,5€) plate of the day dinner in Curitiba, shows you exactly how good Brazilians are at deciding what to have. Either they'll have an all-you-can-eat or a pay-by-the-kilo buffet or the dish they've chosen served not only with fries, rice, pasta, cassava, beans or vegetables but with ALL of those. Every kids dream, but the adult in me is not that convinced.



There and back
I have a love-hate relationship to this trip. Just when I had reached this sound patch in my life, simply loving every minute of it, I'm back on the rollercoaster. Every other day, or hour, it's heaven and every other hell (kind of reminds me of a certain engagement). And something evoking such conflicting emotions is of course incredibly addictive...

28 May 2010

Curitiba and Ilha do Mel - sweet as honey!

My friends in Finland are more tanned than ever and I'm as pale as ever - but hey, I'm on a paradise island... :P

I thought less talk (=writing/reading) and more pics would be in order for a change. Hope you enjoy it!




My host 'Panda', his friend Wesley and I having all-you-can-eat japanese buffet
- who knew fried sushi with strawberries
1) existed and
2) tastes delicious?










After trying all culinary delicasies of the five countries I've visited within the past 10 weeks and doing very little exercise that Japanese buffet was too much. So this week it's been all fresh, colourfull foods and three core workouts, and I feel like I'm on the right track again!









Panda is the CS Curitiba party king but this one was at Wesley's. Panda only brought 12 bottles of booze, a few kilos of lemons and limes and shitloads of ice.


Just nargile, shisha and hookah - nothing illegal!



















Via graciosa is supposed to be one of the most beautiful roads in Brazil, but let's face it, nothing looks too pretty in the pouring rain:




Yeah, flour, no kidding.


The fact the people around spoke only portuguese during the whole dinner made me change my mind about this "fun to be an outsider" -thing. No, it isn't. Fullstop.




















Doesn't this park...
















...in Curitiba look...


















... like a real urban jungle?
















On Tuesday it was time to head towards the coast, a two hour busride east from Curitiba.













Then a half an hour on the boat from Pontal do Sul and you have this place in front of your eyes - Ilha do Mel!








From the little village where the harbour and my hostel are located there are paths through the jungle to the nearby beaches.












This one took me to the closest tourist attraction: the cave



















It's said to be hunted, interestingly by beautiful women, but I must've scared away the ghosts.

I wasn't wearing any make-up, you see, so they must have been afraid the catch the ugly ;)





I climbed on top of a small hill for the whole view.





The wildlife on the island is pretty impressive: I saw dolphils already on the boat to there, then Brazilian Tanagers on my walking path, colourfull butterflies everywhere and, as strange as it may sound to some of you, I thought even the huge vultures flying high above me very kind of cool.




Another thing I really like about the Honey Island is that they really take recycling seriously. But not too seriously as this rubbish bin decoration made out of old plastic bottles shows. I saw also lamps with a similar idea, which could be worth stealing.



My first day on the island ended with a perfect opportunity to test my the sunset function on my new camera: no complaits! Sitting on the terrace of my hostel reading my book with this view right in front of me wasn't too bad...



On Thursday I took a long walk to the other side of the island across some beaches and the jungle and wasn't expecting it to become the adventure that it did: the tide was too high to walk along the shore so I had find my way on top, under and in between huge boulders and try not to slip to my death off the steap rocks. Not to mention climbing a tree, up a rope and crabbing some lianas for support on the way down, like a proper Tarzan.


The other alternative would've been trying my luck with the roaming ocean above me. Or waking up earlier to avoid the high tide which someone informing me about this walk forgot to tell me about. But at least I got to have an adventure, and I've got stratches and small cuts all over my body to prove it. Yes mother(s, Minna & Marjatta), I promise not to do it again.





Over and out.
Next stop on the border of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay,
where the water falls hard and heavy...

21 May 2010

Happy harbour, Island of Holy Kate and Brazilian asses

Here we go again! Sorry for the delay – I'm on Brazilian time now... I made it to my host Renata's place after missing a few buses, hoping the only Portuguese speaking bus driver understood my Spanish on where I wanted to get off and walking on the empty and dark streets of Porto Alegre trying to understand the completely illogical numbering carrying two backpacks weighing about a ton.
Renata is a fellow-CS addict who made the perfect company for a couple of nights out in the city and took me to the local regular Thursday CS meeting with about 30 participants, about a dozen talented CS musicians, in total only three non-locals and one traveller.
Her cats drove me crazy by waking me up way too early in the mornings and following my every step in the apartment as well as trying play with all my stuff, including notebook power cords for example, but you still had to love them. I don't know why, but you had to. Just look at them there, sleeping like angels during the day when they've kept me up all night.

On Friday I took a bus to Florianópolis (73R, 30 €) and met there with my new host Raony, his mother and his tenants, the people he's rented the extra rooms of the house to, including his own. We went to a Friday CS gathering to see a familiar face (Bruno who surfed my couch in Stockholm) and many new ones; the vast majority still being Brazilian and the language used Portuguese. I tried to convince everyone to join me and Canadian Graham on a hike to the isolated beach of Laguinha do Leste the next morning but hangover got the most of them, and I was the only one ready to go up after 4 hours of sleep at 8am to take the three bus rides to the place Graham had told me to meet him at. After solving some issues with Brazilian phone number system (regional mobile phone codes, discount codes and extra zeros without any reason in particular) we found eachother and after many confusing pieces of advise also the track heading to Laguinha do Leste.

The hike up the hill across the jungle took a couple of hours, left me out a breath, with many mosquito bites and my shoes and trousers covered in mud, but was totally worth it. Playing in the huge waves and feeling the enormous power of the water pulling you in turns towards and away from the beach was shitloads of fun, and the crappy drink and the couple of pasties we had bought as lunch could not have tasted any better sitting on the beach afterwards.



On Sunday Raony hosted a barbecue with plenty of yummy food, live Brazilian music, caipirinhas and too many coconut liqueur & pineapple juice drinks for Elina.
The next day I found by chance the cheapest and the coziest hostel on the island, Way2go (20R, 8,5€ per night), right in the heart of Lagoa da Conceição and stayed there for a couple of nights enjoying life, resting to get rid of a small cold I had caught in Laguinha do Leste, watching movies and waiting for the rain to end, only heading to Floripa once to take a short stroll in the centre and to buy a Brazilian sim card to be able to receive SMS from my locals hosts. Power cuts caused by a big storm on Tuesday night somehow only added to the charm of the place.

My host Leonardo met me on Wednesday and we biked along the Campeche beach making my cold worse. After a short night out with Leo's English speaking friends we made plans for me to join him at his research work interviewing farmers in the southern outskirts of Floripa the next day, but after waking up nearly unable to speak, muscles sore and with a terrible cough, I figured I'd spend my first day of pure sunshine on the island in bed instead. Since physical weakness too often comes with an emotional blue, the 18 minute call (19€) from my dear friend Minna was better than anything a doctor could've prescribed.

Language
For a people/CS/language addict like me staying in a country where I don't speak the language is both torture and a fascinating experience. Struggling to communicate with people around me on the streets, friends and family of the CSers I stay with and feeling often excluded in reunions and parties because only a few people speak English or have the energy to try to communicate in Spanish, is an important lesson to learn: it's okay to be an outsider sometimes. So far my language skills in Portuguese are similar to those I have in Norwegian; I know a few words and understand somewhat through another language I know if I really concentrate. When Leo asked his only Portuguese speaking friend to keep me company when I was at home sick and he himself at work, I didn't think we could actually bond and talk about some important life issues, but sometimes the need to communicate wins all obstacles. But it's a struggle, without a doubt.

Brazilian asses
I've never stared at so many womens' asses as I have here in Brazil. Not necessarily because of what they look like but because I want to know if this legend of the perfect ass being a typical feature here is true. Well, the answer, or my opinion of course, is yes and no. The Brazilians have big asses, which looks great on extremely skinny girls who can diet all the fat out of their legs and waist but still have plenty of roundness left on their butt (understand now why silicones are more popular here than anywhere else in the world?) On those who are not as skinny, having a bit extra on the back doesn't look quite the same. So Brazilians can have the perfect ass, but is it worth it, that's the question.

For big, non-Brasilian asses: food
My personal favourite of the regional delicacies here has been aipin, cassava, which is a potato like root which is often served in bars looking exactly like chips (French fries to you yankees) but somehow just tastes juicier and more interesting. I wonder why it's not more common in Europe...
The next specialty is just as yummy: sequência de camarão, which is a mix of seafood, mainly shrimp cooked in different ways, and comes in a huge portion for two. The dish came with chips, rice, beans and a salad – like the couple of kilos of sea food would not have done the job on its own.

Good choice for a lunch is a buffet where you pay by the kilo. You can try many different courses and salads but avoid rolling home like I normally do after eating a buffet. Cheapest, and still quite good, lunch option I've tried so far is a big chicken filet hamburger called xis, which cost 3R (1,5€) at a friendly side street food stand in Porto Alegre. Jury is still out on barbecue delicacies such as chicken hearts and dipping all grilled pieces of meat in flour before eating them.

Temaki sushi isn't particularly Brazilian, but it's so good, that I might as well mention it too. This one came with salmon, chives, cream cheese and a Canadian dude.

Caipirinhas are of course a must in Brazil but it's good to know that the prices of cachaça start at 3R (1,5€) per bottle here and that the drink in the bar costs 5R (2€) minimum, so they won't be saving on the alcohol and you have to be a big fan of the taste of cachaça to fully appreciate that.


p.s. the stupid date/time markings won't appear on the pics of the next entry - I'm learning to use my new camera bit by bit slowly but surely

12 May 2010

Calm devil is the shit


I contacted the only CS member stating Punta del Diablo (=devil's point) as his location a few days before my arrival and even though he was away travelling in Brazil at that moment he recommended me a nice hostel he works in, El Diablo Tranquilo Hostel(dorm 240 pesos, 9€ per night). That place and its staff were the main reason my stay in this little village of about 1000 inhabitants extended from the intended one to five days. When the tourists leave in February the place is left to sleep, but when they return in December the prices more than double and reservations have to be made well in advance, unless you want to spend your night on the beach, which is also quite common when everything is fullbooked.

On arrival to Punta I asked the bus driver the way to the hostel and to my amazement he replied that the girl waiting at the station was waiting to take me there – I didn't even have a reservation... This American chick working at the hostel explained that they sometimes go to the station to see if anyone's looking for them when it's quiet. She helped me carry my backpacks and along the 10-minute walk to her work we had already exchanged our life stories in a nut shell. I checked in with her colleague and within 15 minutes we had made plans for getting drunk together the same night.

And that we did, but not just the three of us. All current customers (4 including me), 5 staff members (some of them off, some working) and two other English natives living nearby started a fierce match of flip cup which included choreographed team cheers, lots of beer drinking and incredibly amounts of shouts and laughter. By the time team Loco locals (in the pic) had lost to the other team, which name I've already forgotten, on scores 4-3 we were all wasted and happy. When the bar closed I remembered I had a bottle of vodka in my backpack and the night went on until the morning.

The next morning was quite a lot quieter, and allthough some of us actually managed to get up and go discover the nearby national park, I thought the 10 minute walk on the beach to the store to get some candy was plenty of exercise for the day. Sunday was sunny and I found a nice calm place between two small sand dynes on the beach and enjoyed the summer temperatures laying on the beach reading my book. The beach was completely empty all day even though away from the wind it was pretty much bikini weather. But as soon as the sun started setting and I left my hiding place to face the see wind, it was time to take out the long sleeves and a scarf to avoid freezing the death on the way home.



I walked to the hostel across some beautiful boulders on the beach and decided to take of pic of myself on of them placing the camera on timer on another one, like I often do when travelling alone. The place seemed stable, but the sudden strong breeze made the camera fall forwards and all the way down into a cliff between two boulder. After crawling under the big rocks getting scratches all over my legs and arms I found the camera and its battery but the screen had taken to hit on the way down. Viewing some test shots on my notebook in the hostel proved that this old friend of mine was a goner. I had difficulties deciding if I was angry at myself for being so careless, sad because buying a new camera wasn't in my budjet for this trip or just felt like an idiot caring about a tiny little thing like that. Here's what the last pic looked like as the lens had just hit the rock for the first time:

After hearing that the border town of Chuy only 45 minute bus ride away (50 pesos, 2€ one way) was full of tax free shops I headed there on Monday to look for a new Canon Ixus to replace the old one, but noticed soon that all of the about 30 different shops sold exactly same two Canon models, which I wasn't too crazy about. After realizing how much I might regret travelling without a camera a few weeks I decided to buy a half-decent Canon Powershot which I could've got cheaper from Sweden with Erik in three weeks. But whatever, you guys wouldn't want to read this blog without pics, right?

Chuy is where I started my trip to Brazil the following day and it's a funny town 'cause the it's half Uruguayan, half Brazilian, the main street of the city forming the border line. So I took my bus to the Uruguayn side, took my laundry to be washed in Brazil and during the day crossed the border, the main street, about fifteen times looking for the right camera. Prices are shown here mainly in dollars, but both Urugyan pesos and Brazilian reals are valid forms of payment. Everyone seemed to understand Spanish, but on one side of the street understanding the reply to my questions was a tiny bit more difficult. I'm getting all excited about learning at least some phrases in a new language soon...