Monthly Archives: February 2020

South America by Subaru 20/02/11 – Monkey shines

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Prior post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/13/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-10-solo-hiking/

My hotel last night was very cheap but attractive and comfortable.

For US$15 a night, I hardly expected a functioning swimming pool. Pousada Sol Nascenete, Guapimirim, Brasil
For US$15 a night, I hardly expected a functioning swimming pool. Pousada Sol Nascente, Guapimirim, Brasil

For that price, though, the breakfast buffet can hardly be anything more than Brasilian basic, but it punches above its weight and I have no trouble stoking up for a day of driving. A particularly nice amenity is plentiful cold milk and chocolate powder. That alone makes it a treat. Unfortunately, in Brasil, virtually all milk sold in stores is processed at ultra high temperature (UHT) so it doesn’t need refrigeration, which gives it, to me, an unpleasant cooked taste. Oh, how I have to suffer. The refrigerated dairy drink distribution system here only extends to yogurt.

Breakfast at Pousada Sol Nascente.
Breakfast at Pousada Sol Nascente.

I’ve been communicating with a non-profit group whose mission is to advance the conservation status of the golden lion tamarin. I saw one of these in the wild on my first Brasilian visit in 1984 — at least I think I did. None of the research I’ve done recently confirms that they ever existed in the place where I saw them despite my vivid memory of trekking out there specifically for that purpose. It wouldn’t be the first time I remember something that turns out not to have happened. Memories, despite being fundamental to how we manage our lives, are a neurological phenomenon — not necessarily an accurate representation of reality.

Getting back to the tamarins, this species only exists in the wild in Brasil and at one point was down to just a few hundred individuals. The Golden Lion Tamarin Association (AMLD in Portuguese) was formed at this low point in 1992 to try to save them from extinction. Through their efforts, the population is up to several thousand and I’m interested in getting another (?) look at these unique creatures.

There are two government reserves containing tamarins but they’re open only to researchers. AMLD is creating private reserves to increase the habitat and encourage more genetic diversity. On one of these, they offer guided public access to allow observation. They told me last week that it would be possible to visit on February 12. At the time, coinciding with Susan’s flight home and the onset of my solo journey, I thought I would be long past the area of the reserves, but it hasn’t worked out that way.

Yesterday, I received a confirmation from AMLD that the Wednesday viewing would happen if I confirmed today but included something new — a strict requirement that all visitors show proof of vaccination against yellow fever. I was vaccinated in 1984 before my first Brasilian visit but the documentation is long gone. Susan and I both got the shot in Bolivia, which is the only South American country to still require it, about a year ago on our prior road trip but I forgot to bring my proof with me on this one. I immediately emailed AMLD assuring them that I am vaccinated and asking if they will accept my word for it, It would be unfortunate if leaving the card home prevented me from seeing tamarins.

As of this morning, I’ve heard no word on whether or not I can actually go tomorrow. Since the AMLD office is only 2 hours away and on my route out of the area, I decide to drive over there and see if I can clarify the situation face to face. It’s still the rainy season, but with eternal optimism, I plan a back road route to reach there. Each of my “shortcuts” turns out to be dicey due to extensive mud holes. During the dry season, I rarely give up on a rough road, but faced with a severe risk of getting mired, it only makes sense to turn back, although the required U-turns are themselves often difficult on muddy, one lane ranch roads hemmed in with fences on both shoulders.

Today, I backtrack to the paved highway three different times so my route ends up being the exact long, boring way I was trying to avoid.

To my surprise, rather than a dingy office, I find a modern, rural facility set back from the highway near one of the public reserves.

The Golden Lion Tamarin Association
The Golden Lion Tamarin Association

I walk in and explain that I had emailed and heard no response as yet. As usual, the answer is a torrent of Portuguese that exceeds my auditory decoding ability. It’s very frustrating to both be able to express myself and read Portuguese reasonably well but still have a terrible time understanding the spoken language at normal conversational speed. I meet many people who have learned a language primarily by listening to music or watching television. It makes me crazy jealous but I just don’t have that talent or brain wiring. I need to see the words or mentally visualize them in writing and that really slows up my ability to comprehend conversation. I’ve had many great exchanges in Portuguese about politics, society, travel, etc with people on a one-to-one basis as long as they are speaking directly to me and understand that they need to restrain their normal speed and keep the vocabulary simple and/or rephrase things when my eyes start to cross. Ambient noise level is also important as music, multiple voices, or traffic noise makes it much harder to decode the spoken word. This is extraordinarily frustrating at parties and group dinners to which I’m periodically invited.

Seeing my quizzical looks and repeated questions covering the same territory they’ve just explained, two staff member ask me to wait and in a few minutes the association’s executive secretary, Luis Paulo, comes out and we end up spending over an hour in his office as he explains what the association is doing — in English. He says their internet connection fails frequently during the rainy season and that my latest inquiry wasn’t received for that reason.

I tell him about my recent vaccination and fortunately he accepts my word, so I’m go for the tamarin walk tomorrow. AMLD’s efforts are inspiring. Operating with no government money, they are working on the future of the tamarins and, by extension, the Atlantic Forest biome on many fronts. They’ve bought farmland needed to connect fragmented habitats (sometimes through consistent, nagging pressure), they’ve replanted native trees with great success, they collar individual tamarins so they can monitor the location and condition of groups. they raise money by allowing people to see the tamarins in the restricted areas, they’re trying to build a tamarin-based tourism economy to encourage locals to support conservation, and many more. They’ve successfully pressured highway builders to install a major tamarin trailway over an expressway (many roads in Brasil are government concessions to private companies). The contractor doesn’t want to publicize their effort, presumably because similar amenities could be demanded in many other places along their roads. Luis Paulo says the AMLD will trumpet the overpass far and wide as soon as it’s put into service. By the time our conversation ends, I’m so impressed by the selfless, difficult work of these volunteers that I donate substantially more than the excursion fee they charge.

Elaborate overpass being built, grudgingly, to connect two tamarin habitats
Elaborate overpass being built, grudgingly, to connect two tamarin habitat

Why the strict yellow fever vaccination requirement? He tells me primates, along with humans are susceptible to yellow fever, which is often fatal. In the past 3 years, the golden lion tamarins have been hit hard by an epizootic (that’s an epidemic among non-humans). Just when they were doing quite well, 30% have now been killed off by the disease. AMLD is trying to develop a vaccination program to alleviate the danger, but capturing each animal to vaccinate it is going to be very expensive, if their is even a safe and effective vaccine for that species.

Unfortunately, private conservation efforts often depend on “marquee species”, particularly cute or striking animals, to attract substantial funds from the public. The golden lion tamarin (mico leão dourado in Portuguese) is certainly one of those “awwww, cute” generators but the proceeds of that feeling are benefiting Brasil’s Atlantic Forest and everything that lives in it. That forest used to blanket all of eastern Brasil, an area larger than Alaska, but has steadily been cut down and fragmented until now there is only about 12% left. Since it was never extensively studied, just exploited, we’ll never know how many Mata Atlantica species have already gone extinct. Even in it’s vastly reduced state, it’s still a reservoir of biodiversity.

The private land I’ll be visiting tomorrow is 20 miles back the way I came and the area has few hotels, so Luis Paulo gives me the name of a cooperating ranch nearby that can offer me lodging. I make my way back there and pull into Fazenda dos Cordeiros (Lamb Ranch), a big active place with the guesthouse in the family residence in a quiet uphill spot.

The owner, Ana Beatriz, welcomes me into the house, surrounded by jungle-like woods. The price she quotes, US$50, is higher than I’d like but I quickly succumb to her friendliness, the inclusion of both dinner and breakfast, the overall family vibe, and the paucity of other nearby choices.

Fazenda do Cordeiros B&B
Fazenda do Cordeiros B&B

As soon as I accept,she offers me “coffee” which turns out to be, essentially, lunch, with homemade bread, local cheese, and a variety of fresh fruit and preserves. She describes how sustainable they are, harvesting most of the fruit and vegetables they eat from the trees and garden. The fazenda is totally organic and she seems quite knowledgeable about farming practices, recent developments, and marketing of unfamiliar fruits. She frequently refers to agricultural and culinary reference books during our discussion, which is smooth and rapid due to her fluent English.

I spend the afternoon and evening sitting outdoors in the shade with the computer, amidst the beautifully landscaped surroundings, replete with various orchids, which the fazenda also raises for sale.

Outdoor seating at Fazenda do Cordeiros, Silva Jardim, Brasil
Outdoor seating at Fazenda do Cordeiros, Silva Jardim, Brasil
Orchids at Fazenda dos Cordeiros
Orchids at Fazenda dos Cordeiros

I take advantage of the covered parking to reorganize the car without standing in the hot sun. At 8:30, dinner is called. The selection of dishes is ample and I have no trouble eating my fill. Ana Beatriz’s husband and mother-in-law have come home and we have a lively discussion, more in Portuguese than English this time, eased along with Ana’s translating help. After dinner, it’s time to hit the hay as I have to load up, have breakfast and drive down the road to the rendezvous site by 8 AM.

Next post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/03/08/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-12-i-see-rare-golden-lion-tamarins/

South America by Subaru 20/02/10 – Solo hiking

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Prior post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/09/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-08-a-taste-of-carnival-in-rio/

After 3 welcoming and restful nights with Servas host Déo in Rio de Janeiro, it’s time to move on toward Brasil’s Northeast. Since I’m still waffling whether to wait around until Wednesday for the opportunity to see golden lion tamarins, I decide to spend today in nearby Serra dos Orgãos National Park. The mountains are named after formations that struck someone as resembling organ pipes.

The jewel attraction is a 20 mile traverse of the entire park, which tempts me briefly, but it’s clearly not practical. It’s a three day trip with a severe ascent, hiring a guide is both mandatory and advisable, and the gear I have is suitable for car camping but quite heavy to haul into the back country. Reluctantly, I let the idea go.

Research indicates the park opens at 8 AM and has 3 widely separated accesses, so I plot a course that hits each one. I’m sure the entrance fee is only good for the day and, of course, I want to get my money’s worth. I set off early, before Déo and Gilberto are stirring. This is not very polite and not my normal style, but Déo is a late riser so I leave a note and slip out.

Northbound out of Rio, I decide to take the toll road to save time and encounter one of the strangest divided highways I’ve ever seen. It starts out very typically, and I cruise along at 75-80 mph, but right after the toll booth, the road divides. Directly ahead, oncoming traffic is moving toward me on a flat road at high speed but my direction veers off on a completely different track along a steep upgrade. Although it remains one way traffic, the route twists, turns, and climbs like a typical, slow mountain road. More curious, there are quite a few homes and businesses along the roadside. They can only be approached from one direction and exited in the other, so moving even a hundred feet backwards would entail driving against traffic on the busy road.

Northbound and southbound lanes of Route BR-040 are miles apart.
Northbound and southbound lanes of Route BR-040 are miles apart.

It dawns on me that this used to be the regular two lane highway (maybe the segments of poorly painted out double yellow line were my clue) and the residents were really screwed when it went one way only. To go south, anywhere south, they have a 10-20 mile loop to the north and back. Apparently, the government built a new, more modern road on a completely different route across the mountains, miles from the road I’m on, but never finished the northbound lanes.

Thus, the old highway became the “temporary” northbound lanes. This is confirmed later when the road ducks under a modern underpass, one side of which ends in midair with no indication of current construction. Although the Brasilian federal highway system is generally excellent, this project seems to have gone terribly wrong for who knows how many years.

I later find out this route, the Washington Luiz highway (named after the president who ordered it built, declaring “government means opening roads”) was the first paved road in Brasil, opened to traffic in 1928, when there were only about 130,000 vehicles in the entire nation. 1,783 of them traveled the road on its first day.

Entire village with awkward one way access aong Route BR-040
Entire mountainside village with awkward one way access along Route BR-040

I was hoping to get to the first park entrance right at opening time, but I’m not going to make it. From the highway, Google Maps routes me along a terribly pot-holed, one lane road toward Petrópolis. There’s enough oncoming traffic that I frequently have to squeeze onto the non-existent shoulder to let a taxi, truck, or school bus slip past. Part of the road, still in very poor condition, runs through a mountainside subdivision full of expensive homes, complete with guards at both ends and frequent monitoring cameras. I guess because I’m on a public road the guards don’t actually stop me but they carefully eye each entering vehicle.

I don’t tarry in Petrópolis although it’s interesting due to it’s having been the de facto summer capital of the Brasilian Empire in the 1820s… because the emperor liked the upland climate much better than down in hot, swampy Rio de Janeiro. As Mel Brooks said, “It’s good to be the king.”

Once in Petrópolis, the way toward the national park is clearly marked — for a while. As the road gets narrower and rougher again, one last sign says “Park entrance 1.5 miles. No parking on site.” A few additional signs would have been helpful since the road devolves into a series of dead end tracks. Worse yet, Google Maps depicts the entrance on what turns out to be the wrong dead end. Workmen I ask along the way seem oblivious even to the existence of a nearby national park until I come across a tourist jeep excursion whose driver gives me detailed and comprehensible directions to the correct branch. One more serious ascent in low gear and I reach a small entrance complex. I’m the only visitor in sight. Confirming that I’m welcome and that there’s no parking area, indeed almost no room to reverse direction, I jockey the Subaru around in the narrow space and go downhill about 200 yards where an enterprising landowner has posted a crude sign announcing parking. There’s no room to negotiate the 315 degree uphill turn into his steep, bedrock driveway, so I have to go further down the road to a slightly wider spot where I can pull a tortuous multi-step K turn and surge back up the steep grade into a small parking area.

Paying my fee to the owner, I stash safety gear and supplies in my pack and slog back up to the entrance, where more money is collected and I’m given a small trail map.

The trail is a spur that runs over two miles up valley along a rushing stream, past half a dozen named pools. The first quarter mile is lined with barbed wire fence and I can see banana trees and other crops on the uphill side. Above, on both sides, very steep rock walls covered with epiphytic bromeliads form the valley. I wasn’t expecting to see such rugged terrain. I haven’t been much above sea level for weeks so this pseudo-alpine terrain is a nice change. The vegetation is still the jungle-like Atlantic Forest but at this altitude it’s more of a cloud forest, frequently awash in mist and fog. The trail is steadily and often steeply uphill, quite wet, and by turns rocky and muddy. I make the short detours to the various pools. They’re boulder filled and pleasant, but not overly impressive.

Pool along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Pool along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P

As I continue up the valley, alternately leaving and rejoining the stream, the uphill effort gets quite noticeable. Behind me, there are periodic long views down the canyon’s impressively severe topography toward the distant settlement miles below.

View down valley from trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P
View down valley from trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P

As I walk the final half mile or so, the 20-mile traverse trail branches off, clearly marked “permit required”. At this point, I’m tired enough by the uphill slog that I give it only a quick, envious glance as I continue past. The final attraction is Bridal Veil Falls (how many of those are there in the world?), but reaching it requires three traverses of the rushing stream, none with bridges or even a prepared crossing path. I have to hop from rock to rock and enter the water to get across, The first crossing is at the very brink of a substantial waterfall requiring some cautious stepping in order to cross without serious mishap.

Stream crossing at lip of waterfall, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Stream crossing at lip of waterfall, Serra dos Orgãos N P. “Watch your step, ladies and gentlemen.”

The trail ends at Bridal Veil Falls, a respectable 4600 feet elevation and they are indeed rewarding. I’m grateful that after seeing thousands of waterfalls, each new one is still interesting, even delightful. I don’t now why they never get boring, but I’m glad. Perhaps there’s some genetically preserved reaction triggered each time I see one.

Bridal Veil Falls, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Bridal Veil Falls, Serra dos Orgãos N P

The trip back to the entrance requires less energy for being downhill but at least as much caution to avoid losing footing and taking a humiliating or even injurious fall on the slippery mud, exposed tree roots, and uneven rocks.

For decades, I’ve reminded people that doing things solo is inherently more dangerous than with even one companion. Mishaps that are trivial if there’s someone else around can be serious, even fatal, by yourself. A twisted ankle, the beginnings of hypothermia, a slip off a narrow trail, or anything else can ruin a solo hike — or a solo life. In my long gone Alaska days, where I often took novices into the wilderness, including a week or two of ocean kayaking, I always had redundant plans for contingencies — storms, bears, snow, loss of gear, etc. Although nature in Alaska is always trying to kill you, I had an unblemished record, no deaths or maiming injuries. Of course, a few people did disappear, but my policy is if the body isn’t found, it doesn’t count.

Here, I am hiking a moderately difficult trail by myself, so you can be sure I’m super cautious. Of course, almost every time there are no mishaps, including today, which is lucky since except for passing one group of 4 hikers as I near the car, I have the whole trail to myself.

Delicate fungus along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Delicate fungus along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Lizard posing for me along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P
Lizard posing for me along trail, Serra dos Orgãos N P

I’m back to the car by 12:30 and immediately creep back to the main road and head for the second park access over an hour away.

Som of the namesake organ pipe formations of Serra dos Orgãos N P
Some of the namesake organ pipe formations of Serra dos Orgãos N P

On arrival there, I check out the posted trail map and decide on a route up to what’s labeled as “the post card view”. This area is more developed than the last, with a small visitor center, winding paved road with parking areas near various trailheads. I pass a camping area that looks like it may no longer be functional and a pousada (lodge) that is definitely defunct. There’s thunder sounding in the distance and the clouds look like they may be closing in to obscure distant views but I set off anyway, humping my way up the steep trail over an endless series of uncomfortably high steps leading uphill. Alas, after a half mile or so of effort, I hear heavy rain approaching and barely have time to don my rain jacket and hat before the deluge. I retrace my steps downward in a deluge, and my shoes and legs are thoroughly soaked when I reach the car.

As I’m backtracking the cobblestone road to the park entrance, the roadway is blocked by a fallen tree, just toppled from the muddy bank during the current rainstorm. One car is already stopped and its driver is pulling on the tree in a futile effort to move it out of the way. With the addition of my effort, we get it moved just enough to slip the cars between tree and the steep downhill bank. A couple of park employees are looking on but apparently think that dealing with a blocked road and stranded motorists is not in their job description.

I’ve hiked less than six miles today but I’m very fatigued. As I drive out of the mountains, I’m trying to figure out why. I can only think of three possibilities:

  1. I’m out of shape after 4 months of sitting behind the steering wheel, OR
  2. Hiking solo is much less fun than having companionship and my brain is saying, “I’m not going along with this foolishness,” OR
  3. Perhaps, just perhaps, it has something to do with my recent 70th birthday. Nah, no chance it’s that.

It’s too late in the day and too rainy to bother with the third area of the national park, so I locate suitable lodging online and let Google Maps show me how to get there as quickly as possible. When I turn off the highway, though, something is not right. The turns I’m being instructed to make aren’t quite in the right place, although I find similar ones a bit offset from what the map shows. Shortly, I’m descending a steep, rough one lane road out of the mountains. Although it’s only 4 PM, between the afternoon hour, thick clouds, heavy rain, and tree cover, it’s almost dark where I’m driving. I have my high beams on, concentrating on the steep turns and slopes in front of me. As I glance down at the map on my phone, I see the location arrow has diverged from the road on the map, meaning Google thinks there’s no road where I am — not a good sign since this road has clearly never been rebuilt here from a different alignment. I keep descending for a couple of miles until suddenly, on a particularly steep and narrow stretch, the road ends at a couple of closed driveway gates. Great, a dead end with barely any room to turn the car. I manage to get it pointed uphill and have to retrace my route back up the rough mountain road through the runoff. Considering Google has mapped basically every road in the world, it’s amazing how rarely they get them wrong. Tonight, though, I’m a victim of bad data.

Back at altitude on the main road, I realize that the only way to my chosen lodging is now a long drive. I search for something more convenient to my new situation, find it, and head directly there. I’ve gotten lucky. The pousada I’ve chosen, suspiciously cheap at $18, is surprisingly nice. A big room, pleasant grounds, swimming pool, and decent internet (far from assured in Brasil). Worn out from hiking and fighting with Google Maps, I’m asleep in record time despite the early hour.

Cheap but very nice digs in Guapimirim, Brasil
Cheap but very nice digs in Guapimirim, Brasil

Next post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/21/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-11-monkey-shines/

Neighborhood pre-Carnival parade in Laranjeiras, Rio de Janeiro

South America by Subaru 20/02/08 – A taste of Carnival in Rio

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Prior post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/09/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-07-first-day-traveling-solo/

I wake up refreshed here at my host’s home in the Laranjeiras district of Rio de Janeiro. I have no great ambitions for today, just take it easy after an intese two day round trip drive. The internet went down overnight so I have no access until the router is rebooted and I’m not nervy enough to wander around the house on my own to find it. When Déo arises, I tell her what’s needed and ten minutes later I’m online again. The first thing I check is email and WhatsApp and, as expected, I see the news from Berkeley that Helene has successfully given birth to Felix the Child overnight — she and James have launched a successful Silicon Valley startup. Now, I can finally stop being considered a defective human being all across South America. Everyone you meet down here asks, “Do you have children?” and when the answer is yes the next question is “Grandchildren?” When I say no, their pity and sadness for me is palpable. Today, that ends, I am now a grandfather. No more, “Tão triste…” (“So sad”).

Son-in-law James, daughter Helene, and grandson Felix.
Son-in-law James, daughter Helene, and grandson Felix.

Déo and Gilberto and I talk quite a bit through the morning. The topics of Trump and Bolsonaro come up prominently, of course, and our views on them are closely aligned.

Déo has had an interesting life to date. She alludes to multiple marriages, a long time reluctance (now abandoned) to get involved with Brasilian men, international travel, and a general need to follow her own path through life rather than just “fit in”. Her brother, sister-in-law, and young nephew pop in to discuss family matters. Déo is leaving shortly for Florida to accompany the latter two to Disneyworld.

Brasilians have been fascinated by Disneyworld since it opened. I’m sure it’s the single most popular destination for Brasilian international travel. On my first journey here in 1984, I went to a comedy club in São Paulo (I understood a lot more Portuguese thn than now) to see João Soares, known as O Gordo (The Fat Guy). Brasil, at the time was in the throes of rampant inflation, there was no foreign exchange so very little was imported, oil was years from being discovered so engines ran on domestically produced ethanol, and the military dictatorship was so eager to escape blame for the problems that they were handing the government over to civilians. O Gordo’s solution was to emulate The Mouse That Roared: Brasil should declare war on the United States, attack the country, be defeated, and get tons of foreign aid from us. And, he said, we don’t even have to send an army to invade — we already have one at Disneyworld!

Since Déo can only stand a limited amount of theme park, she’s thinking of going off alone for a portion of the trip to visit Miami. I try my best to dissuade her from wasting precious days of her life in Florida. She’s already been to New York City and, in any case, the winter temperatures are a significant barrier. I suggest New Orleans as a unique experience and she’s receptive to that. By coincidence, the sister-in-law has visited there and adds encouragement. I might have done my good deed for the day. Sorry, Miami… not!

After lunch, I go out to photograph the neighborhood in daylight.

Alley where Déo's house is situated
Alley where Déo’s house is situated.

Déo tells me the arrangement of attached houses on a dead end alley is rare in modern day Brasil but traditional in Portugal. The name for it there doesn’t translate descriptively into other languages, including Brasilian Portuguese, so Déo has a hard time describing it to others. Does anyone have an English (or for that matter any other language) name that conveys the concept?

Entrance to Déo's alley.
Entrance to Déo’s alley.

There’s a lot of music and rhythm emanating from the next street and Déo tells me this is a local celebration, Carnaval de Rúa (Carnival of the Street). Although the climax of the season is over two weeks away, such neighborhood parades are happening all through February.

You’re probably aware that Carnaval (what we call Mardi Gras in the US) is an enormous event in Rio and other large Brasilian cities. The obsession, expense, and intensity put other famous Carnival venues, like New Orleans and Port of Spain in Trinidad, to shame.

The local parade today is just a small event in Rio terms but the dense crowd throbs to the music and singing emanating from a full size bus inching it’s way down the street. People are dressed in outrageous costumes: women in the near-naked beachwear that is normally taboo once you step off the sand, men in tutus and other female costumes. Face and body paint, and glitter is de rigueur. The atmosphere is very infectious and it’s easy to see how a lot of crazy stuff happens. Although I arrived after Carnaval in 1984, I remember posters still tacked on utility poles warning, “DON’T have a Carnaval baby!”

Right behind the tail of the crowd comes a garbage truck and crew of street cleaners, some of whom are also dancing to the music as they scoop up parade trash.

Susan and I are planning to come to Rio specifically for next year’s Carnaval and, after today’s experience, I can hardly wait. As I head northeast up the coast, I’m sure I’ll see more parades and music before it all ends on February 25 and Brasil returns to its perpetual football (soccer) obsession.

The remainder of the day is spent indoors. The architecture of the house is interesting, three floors surrounding an open atrium – very airy and light and filled woth Déo’s paintings and other art.

Déo's living room
Déo’s living room
Déo's living room
Déo’s living room
A 20 story high rise looms over Déo's and Gilberto's atrium. If you don't look up, it's not there.
A 20 story high rise looms over Déo’s and Gilberto’s atrium. If you don’t look up, it’s not there. If you don’t look up, it’s not there.

It isn’t air conditioned, though, so sitting in front of the ventilating fan is essential to my survival. As the creation of three blog entries demonstrates, I spend my time writing.

Next post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/13/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-10-solo-hiking/

South America by Subaru 20/02/07 – First Day Traveling Solo

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Prior post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/08/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-06-susan-heads-home/

I wake up this morning without Susan and the impact of traveling without her strikes me immediately. In addition, I have a message from daughter Helene in Berkeley, California that her labor has started, which means I am on the verge of being a first time grandfather. I wander downstairs and find Francisco preparing breakfast for us.

I’m not seeing much of Jairo because he is studying continuously. He’s on his way to becoming a judge which, in Brasil, means he must first become a lawyer. He’s been in law school and the day after tomorrow must take a make-or-break test. It’s similar to our bar exam but doesn’t immediately allow you to practice law. It’s very difficult, requiring memorization of tons of detail, and you only get to take it 3 times. If you fail the third time, all your law school effort goes into the trash. Jairo is determined to pass the first time and studying has consumed him.

Since Francisco is working and Jairo locked away, I decide to move on today so as not to be in the way. I start doing research on where to go next and it turns out to be more time consuming than I thought. There’s a private nature reserve I’d like to visit, one of the few places where the endangered golden lion tamarin, a small monkey, is thriving, but it takes hours to find out that the next opportunity is 5 days from now — longer than I planned to stay in this part of Brasil. I decide to hedge my bets by trying to stay with a host in the Rio de Janeiro area, even though we just spent 9 days there, and see how I feel about waiting around for the reserve visit. I contact a Servas host in Rio who had invited us to stay with her 3 days ago and ask if I’m welcome solo.

I start the same long drive back eastward that I just did yesterday, not sure where I’ll end up tonight. By 2 PM, I get a “welcome” email from the host, Déo, and plot a route to her address in Laranjeiras, a Rio neighborhood we hadn’t visited earlier. Six hours of hard driving, interrupted only for a 30 minute nap, refueling, and 2 tiny cups of cafezinho — the ubiquitous Brasilian expresso offered as a courtesy in many gas stations and stores, or at a minimal price in every restaurant. I roll in to my destination after dark at 8 PM. It’s a street that dead ends against a rock wall at least 200 feet high — only in Rio are the residences immediately adjacent to precipitous, wooded mountains all through the city.

One of Rio's mountains looms over the street
One of Rio’s mountains looms over the street

The short street is populated by six residential towers of about 20 stories each and an equal number of seven story edifices.

20 story high rise rssidential tower
One of the 20 story residential towers

I park the car and search out the exact address on foot. To my surprise, Déo’s address isn’t one of the high rises, but a tiny, gated, perpendicular, dead end alleyway lined both sides with small attached homes.

The quaint alley that incudes Déo's house.
The quaint alley that incudes Déo’s house.

It’s like something out of a Sherlock Holmes setting. I find my way to the correct house, knock on the door, and am assured I have reached the right place. After carefully squeezing the Subaru into a parallel parking space in the narrow alley, I’m welcomed into the house by Déo and Gilberto.

Déo's house, the orange one.
Déo’s house, the orange one.

Déo had warned me in advance that the house was messy and now I see it’s because it’s under major remodel, with construction supplies and displaced furniture piled haphazardly in much of the open space. Nonetheless, the alley is a charming anachronism in an otherwise tower-dominated residential street.

Although Gilberto speaks no English, Déo is fluent so my initial use of Portuguese quickly changes to English to enable more efficient communication. I’m wiped, so after a couple of hours of get-acquainted conversation (during which I’m watching my phone for further updates from Helene — there are none), I go to my assigned room and drop off immediately.

Next post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/09/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-08-a-taste-of-carnival-in-rio/

"Silver bird, take me home, to the place I want to be."a

South America by Subaru 20/02/06 – Susan heads home

[NOTE: To enlarge any image, right click it and choose “View image” or similar. Use the Back button to return to the post.]

Prior post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/01/12/south-america-by-subaru-20-01-08-escape-from-the-clay/

This morning, after nine days in Rio de Janeiro, we undertake the six hour drive to São Paulo International Airport. After almost 4 months on the road in our Subaru, Susan is flying home to her nest in the Catskills. We drag all our stuff down from the eleventh floor of the Casa Nova Hotel in the active but not very touristy Lapa neighborhood. the long drive is to give Susan the convenience of a non-stop flight to Newark instead of flying out of Rio and changing planes in São Paulo.

Susan's final hotel checkout in Brasil
Susan’s final hotel checkout in Brasil
Goodbye, fancy hotels
Goodbye, fancy hotels

On the way out of town we detour to Ipanema to drop off the last of Susan’s books for Raphael, our new friend who has invited us to return next year for Carnival, promising to hook us up to the cool parties and events.

Dropping off a book in a high security environment
Dropping off a book in a high security environment

Our route out of town takes us past many iconic Rio de Janeiro sights, including Corcovado:

Susan's final hotel checkout in Brasil
Last view of Coecovado

Expensive beachfront residences:

Copacabana beachfront luxury high rises
Copacabana beachfront luxury high rises

Tunnels that are vital links between neighborhoods:

One of Rio's many tunnels that connect the mountain-separated neighborhoods.
One of Rio’s many tunnels that connect the various mountain-separated neighborhoods.

And street murals:

Mural in the rain
Mural in the rain

It’s almost noon by the time we head out on the highway toward São Paulo. Susan’s flight departs at 9:30 PM so we have plenty of time as long as we make steady progress. In a departure from our usual style, we’ve chosen the main highway — high speed (except for traffic jams) and frequent toll booths.

The outskirts of Rio aren’t particularly attractive and Susan assumes her standard cruising posture.

Susan's favorite riding position
Susan’s favorite riding position

We’re soon ascending through the mountains to the northwest. It’s the rainy season and everything is lush in varying shades of green.

For some reason, gasoline in Rio de Janeiro state is about 25% more expensive than in neighboring São Paulo state. I’ve been tanking up on costly fuel in Rio for the past two weeks so I’m trying to drive economically to reach a particularly cheap station I encountered previously along our route. Alas, the long uphill climbs and the air conditioner mean I can’t quite make it, so I stop on the Rio side of the border to get a small refill.

Another 60 miles brings us to the desired gas station where I fill up and we check out the fairly elegant looking restaurant next door, curiously from a US viewpoint, named Wimpy, The House of Cod. A look at the menu surprises us with prices double or more the usual range. At $35 a plate and up, Susan decides to wait for something more modest that she likes. She’s had breakfast and will be getting dinner on the plane in about 7 hours, so all she needs is something to tide her over.

Shortly afterward, we reach the town of Aparecida and exit to look for more restaurants. We’re turned off by the aggressive touts, standing on front of the moving car in an attempt to force us into their restaurant. What astounds us though is the religious theme of the town. It contains a giant cathedral, many religious artifact stores, and a skywalk (Stairway to Heaven?) .

Cathedral skywalk, Aparecida, Brasil
Cathedral skywalk, Aparecida, Brasil

Also above our heads is a cable car from the church grounds to an adjacent hilltop cross monument. Incongruously, there’s an amusement park next door. Roller Coaster to Christ?

Cathedral and adjacent amusement park, Aparecida, Brasil
Cathedral and adjacent amusement park, Aparecida, Brasil

The remaining two hours of driving is uneventful: superhighway, toll stops, and intermittent heavy rain. Near the airport we insert ourselves into a traffic jam looking for a hamburger restaurant which seems to have disappeared, at least its mapped location is now occupied by a traveling circus. The airport is identical to virtually every other one in the world. We’re pleasantly surprised, though, that luggage carts are free and United Airlines has a Special Assistance queue, allowing people over 60 and with children to jump the line to the ticket counter. Are you listening Port Authority of NY/NJ?? Equally surprising: the United employees at the line entrances speak no English, although the ones at the counter do — fortunate because the queue guards won’t let me accompany Susan there because I’m not flying.

Susan still hasn’t eaten, so after check in we opt for the Pizza Hut on the concourse. In the US, I wouldn’t even consider eating their vile food. Many years ago, I stopped at one on a business trip because it advertised all you could eat pizza. I am a lifelong all-you-can-eat customer and restaurants break even — if they’re lucky — on my meals there, but I couldn’t even come close to eating my fill of their crap. In Brasil , though, (with abject apologies to all the millions of Brasilian pizza lovers) even a good pizza is mediocre by my standards, so how much worse could Brasilian Pizza Hut be? The restaurant advertises a suspiciously cheap $5 lunch that includes one slice of pizza, a side dish, a tiny espresso, and unlimited salad. I understand the strategy when I pay the bill and find that a standard fountain soft drink costs (price not posted) as much as the lunch itself.

I escort Susan to the security portal, we say our good byes, and she is vacuumed around the corner on an inexorable path to takeoff.

"Silver bird, take me home, to the place I want to be."
“Silver bird, take me home, to the place I want to be.”

I race back to the car because the exorbitant parking fee is accruing rapidly.

Now, I’m on my own. As I’ve often acknowledged, I can’t remember a single time in my life when I’ve said to myself, “I wish I could be alone.” I’ve been made to realize over the years that this is very odd among homo sapiens. I can be solitary, of course, but I prefer companionship. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, and eight’s a PARTY. I think the longest I’ve ever traveled alone is about two weeks and now I’m either facing an aborted trip with a long drive back to Chile to sell the car or a sustained solo journey north along the Atlantic coast to Belém on the shores of the mouth of the Amazon River, before an even longer return to Santiago. We’ll see if I stick with it.

With Susan gone, the loneliness will be offset by some practical changes: staying with more hosts, cheap hostel beds instead of hotel rooms with private bathrooms, economical all you-can-eat lunches of standard Brasilian fare, and more camping and hiking. Driving, sleeping, and eating by myself will be a fundamental change. Susan’s and my strongest point is that, even after 10 years together, we never run out of things to talk about. That’s tough to replace during long days on the road and long nights in hotel rooms.

Once in the car, I contact our friends Francisco and Jairo to see if they’d like a last minute visit from me (our third on this trip) and head for a nearby hostel as a backup. Just as I arrive there, they send me a message welcoming me to stay with them, so I point the car toward the highway for the 75 minute backtrack to their comfortable house.

In the familiar surroundings, Francisco and I spend the evening talking. I describe some of the cool places we’ve been in the last 2 months and he talks about his job and what they’ve been doing with their new car over the same period. I eventually hit the hay after the long day of driving.

Francisco and Jairo
Francisco and Jairo

Next post: http://blog.bucksvsbytes.com/2020/02/09/south-america-by-subaru-20-02-07-first-day-traveling-solo/