The famous Rio de Janeiro was next on our adventure line. The same distance as our previous trip from Sao Luis to Salvador, this time it only took us 3 days with constant rides blowing our way with ease; some found at petrol stations (postos) and some while standing on the road and magically stopping for us (magically because drivers are often dubious about stopping for hitchhikers here in Brazil). The first night we slept in the trailer of a truck, in the open air with drops of rain threatening our heads but never quite following through. On the second night we slept in hammocks attached underneath a truck, rocking ourselves to sleep. Making our way through the state of Minas Gerais offered us a changing landscape of vibrant green, bountiful hills and humungous rocks jolting out of the land, arising out of nothing and just us suddenly, disappearing again. We listened to samba, bossa-nova, musica popular brasilaira and forro while making our melodic way to Rio, all introduced to us by our fellow truckies.
Entering Rio from Minas involves a great downward incline that carries on for many kilometres and which challenges trucks with any sort of heavy load. The smell of burnt brakes filled the air as we snailed our way down the stretch of road.
We didn’t stay in the centre of Rio, told many times that Niteroi is not Rio but only a mere 15 minutes away by ferry
from the centre of the famous city, (a very nice way to travel to the centre!). We stayed with a lovely couch who lived in Niteroi, overlooking Guanabara Bay and in the background, Rio. Our first night we drank and ate with our couch and her friends, a cross-cultural couple, the guy being from Oz and the girl from Brazil. They had a beautiful daughter who served to be the basis for some good old dry aussie humour, where nothing is sacred and taking the piss out of everything is part of the everyday chatter… how I have so missed it!
The first four days were overcast and rainy, the complete opposite that is expected out of Rio and offering a different perspective on the city of endless sunshine, parties and beaches. The city appeared grim and dull, abandoned buildings covered in graffiti and used buildings also sprayed by the aerosol cans, from roof to floor. We spent a day with a couch surfer punk in his collective, around the corner from a fabela that had been recently ‘pacified’, i.e. police come in with force and kill all suspected drug traffickers plus others who happen to get caught in the way. Once everyone is either dead, on the run or terrorised and the police have complete control of the fabela, it is then christened ‘pacified’. This is what they are attempting to do with all the fabelas in Rio. Of course, the fabelas are fighting back and many of these communities are experiencing war scenes. The punks braced with their morbid tattoos, black attire, chains and piercings, looking peculiarly like all punks do all over the world, started playing death metal (competing with the fabela who blast funk on Sunday afternoons) which was at the point that we decided to leave.
Copacabana beach showed its rays on the last day in Rio. It sparkled and dazzled its greatness as we drank caipirinha (a cocktail consisting of cachaca, sugar and lime), over looking the coastline and marvelled at why this is one of the world’s most legendary beaches.
We stumbled across a samba concert as we were heading home and watched dancers swing their hips in a hypnotic manner that made it seem as if it was a subconscious move, just like breathing. Our last night we hung out with uni students in a square full of outdoor-bars, the air thick with people, laughs, music and excitement, a refreshing shindig to be a part of.We got very lucky leaving Rio. A couple who never normally stop for hitchers, stopped for us as they were turning onto the main road and offered us a lift all the way to Sao Paulo (which we had decided to go to after we realised how close it was to Rio). They chatted to us the whole way; the guy was a surgeon working in a public hospital in Rio whose work consisted attending to numerous shootings every week and many accidental self shootings. The girl had completed a masters in development studies with the UN in Italy and was looking for work in this competitive field. Both were keen to move to Australia…
We stopped to do a bit of sightseeing and visited the biggest cathedral in the Southern hemisphere. They introduced us to their favourite Brazilian music including to old funk which comes from Rio’s fabelas and some good reggae music. Arriving in Sao Paulo on a Friday afternoon proved to be a trial and tribulation in the immense city (not as big as Mexico DF which is the second biggest city in the world but with the appearance of being much bigger). Traffic piled up on the highway and the multitude of lanes moved at a snails pace. It took us over 2 hours to enter the city, the high-rise buildings endlessly covering the sky scape, with little space in between. I had the impression that I was going to suffocate, buildings closing in on me everywhere I looked, hardly able to see the blue of the sky. Graffiti and tags were just like in Rio, painted all over buildings, often being in the middle of some of the highest buildings with no apparent way of reaching these areas.
Helicopters frequently crossed our sky, one of the new ways for the rich and famous to travel in Sao Paulo. Motorcycles screamed past our car, inches away from scraping the doors, they propelled themselves through the middle of two lanes while beeping their horns, some occasionally getting angry when a car wasn’t sufficiently to the left or right side of their lanes and they weren’t able get through smoothly. We stayed with an old friend who I had met at an eclipse festival in the Oz outback 8 years back! She was exactly as I remembered her; sweet, smiley and a lovely person to be around. She has a beautiful, spacious apartment, tastefully decorated and very closely located to the famous park, Ibirapuera. This great big park has copious amounts of people using it to get away from the concrete jungle and also holds a modern arts museum and consequently, the biennale was exposing. As we walked though the several floors that composed this world class exhibition, we saw a woman with a collar and lead around her neck, being led by a man. Where the man went, went the woman with no indication that this was an abnormal act. Is it art?! We also saw a video on Pixao graffiti (native to Sao Paulo and created as a voice for the most marginalised in society); graffiti artists who climb great heights in the name of tagging high rises, risking their lives for the thrill and adventure. In the video one of the pixadores dies after falling countless metres while tagging. Beco do Batman, an alleyway in the Vila Madalena neighbourhood, has been transformed in an outdoor gallery where you can see lots of very colourful and skilful graffiti.
Thati and her friends took us to some chic Saturday markets in Vila Madalena where we ate cuscus, a savoury cake made with tomatoes, eggs, tuna, olives and spices and pastel,
a pastry stuffed with savoury fillings which are very popular throughout all of Brazil. People poured onto the street from all four corners of the market square, bars full to the brim looking very artsy and trendy. What people had said was true. Sao Paulo isn’t a place that people go to for sightseeing but it has one hell of a nightlife. Brazilians are a very friendly bunch. They are proud of where they are from and carry their flag with beaming smiles. They sing, make music and make a lot of noise no matter where they are. There are many gorgeous people, women who can flaunt it and who normally do and men who are a little presumptuous but can get away with it. As Thati mentioned to me, the men in Australia work very differently than in Brazil. Here they pride themselves on being forward and bold, accosting women at any moment possible whereas in Oz men take a back seat and often women have to do the work. Thati commented that she appreciated the aussie way a lot more as she finds Brazilian men to be arrogant and on the lookout for just sex, with little possibility of friendship. I’m not convinced that aussie men aren’t on the lookout for sex but maybe a mixture of both cultures might be the way forward…!
Going out is a long night affair here in Brazil. Brazilians don’t start moving till very late, 1 or 2 in the morning, unless you’re going to a bar for just a few drinks. Unaccustomed, I struggled to stay awake and retain enthusiasm for the event. In Vila Madalena, once again, streets chock-full of bars with a nice ambiance, people hang in and out of bars, out being more popular, lining the streets with people, obstructing traffic, drinks in hand, often not bought on the bar premises but rather from a cheaper street vendor.
Another thing that Sao Paulo is famous for is for holding the largest Japanese population outside of Japan.
There’s a Japanese town in the centre and Japanese restaurants and sushi bars around many corners in Sao Paulo. Upon advice, we caught a bus from Sao Paulo to the outskirts of the city to give us as much chance as possible to get a ride out of the city. Not a very good spot (we were on the highway with cars rushing past at high velocity) but soon enough a brand new truck stopped and offered us a ride to Curitiba, where we were heading. The truckie was a bickie with a passion for nature; he was definitely not your typical truck driver. His girlfriend is also a truckie, the first time I have heard of a female truck driver in these parts.
A torrential rain appeared as we were dropped off 20 kilometres away from Curitiba. It tainted our efforts to continue to Curitiba by ride. Finally, we were able to go by taxi, a rare occurrence for us these days.
The reason to visit Curitiba was for its reputation for being one of the most ecological cities in the Americas and for its famous and prided public transport system. The city has a bus system which is made to operate like a metro. The buses have partial control of the traffic lights and there are bus lanes all over the city. Space aged bus stops are everywhere where you climb into a clear plastic bubble and pay on the spot before getting on the bus.
You can transfer buses as many times as you desire without having to pay again and it’s damn cheap! All of these factors make bus a better option than driving. This has also been maintained by installing pedestrian streets in the centre which cover the majority of the streets, making it easy to walk everywhere and car free. Parks line many of the streets providing much urban green space for its citizens to enjoy including its well-known botanical gardens. Governments from all over the world come to visit Curitiba to see first hand these innovative initiatives in collective urban planning. Another curiosity is the free environment university which the government installed for the general public. It’s located in a national park and gives free courses to educate the community on ecological issues.
Generally in Brazil, there are many gay people to be seen in the big cities. In Curitiba it was surprising to see many very young lesbians (under 18), walking around hand-in-hand all over the city. It’s not a site that is seen in general and one is more accustomed to see gay guys than lesbians showing affection in public. Go girls!
Leaving Brazil was the same as arriving in Brazil: challenging. 600 kilometres took us three days, the same it had taken us to do 2000 kilometres in previous weeks. Agustin became antsy at the thought of being so close to his country but still not quite there yet. We did get a ride with a trailer that was transporting cars and slept in one of them for the night, something I had always wanted to do for some reason!
130 kilometres away from the border we got caught in the rain again and after quite a few hours we gave up and decided to catch a bus. The bus took us to the border town but it was too late to cross and so we slept outside the bus station, being looked after by the station security guard. The next morning, we finally took the bus and crossed over into Spanish speaking world again, after two months of understanding only bits and pieces and making up the rest. Puerto de Iguazu was where we landed first in Argentina. One of the seven natural wonders of the world, Argentina shares the national park, Parque Nacional Iguazu with Brazil which holds a number of waterfalls that are an incredible site not to be missed. On the Argentinean side there are numerous waterfalls to be seen, the most spectacular and well known being la garganta del diablo, a set of waterfalls that hold such force and grandness. The spray that emanates from these cascades creates rainbows on many occasions.
Agus felt back at home again, appreciating his countries idiosyncrasies and especially, the food. Being familiar with the way his country functions, the ways of the people, their speech and lingo and reconnection with his culture was what made me feel homesick and out of place. I longed for a reconnection with my country and my culture but was far from being home. The homesickness subsided a little as the new country I found myself in caught my attention me and I became interested in discovering where Agustin was from.
In Misiones, we stayed with some couches whom helped to form my introduction to Argentina. We exchanged trivialities about our countries as we discovered that the couple we stayed with were very different from each other causing some tension between them. The conclusion I came to is that one is to learn to accept differences as they will always arise. This shall be my new challenge thanks to this couple!
We took El Gran Capitan train, an old style train that is up and running again, all the way to Monte Caseros, Agustin’s village where his grandmother resides. It took 14 hours to do the 500 km’s but enjoyable hours they were.
The train merely chugs along at a very pleasant and tranquil speed allowing for good countryside viewing. The large windows open widely and so it feels like you're almost part of the landscape, as you are half hanging out of the window. There’s time to get to know people on the train as you walk around looking for a way to pass the time. The train has a reputation of often being held up by such things as cows passing time on the train trucks or a train coming from the opposite direction, etc. We were only stopped for an hour while we waited for a train to pass us, which gave me the opportunity to take photos. Finally we arrived at Monte Caseros. Only a handful of people got off with us, the rest of the passengers wondering what there was to see in this small town. The afternoon sun hit down on us hard as we made our way from the quite train station to the empty streets of the village, everyone being inside for siesta. We were a surprise for his grandmother, not having contacted to say that we were in the country. And what a surprise it was. Tears strolled down her face as she hugged her grandson with joy and gave me a welcoming kiss.
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