Joints and joy.

I´m taking off today from Sao Paulo. I could use another few days here at least, but I will be back next Thursday or Friday. I finally found a coupla places that I feel at home with. I spent all day Friday in Villa Madelena, a sort of bohemian section of town that´s part Silverlake and part East Village. At night the restaurants fill up and people drink into the light of the early morning hours. I did some shopping in Villa Madelena during the daytime -- my backpack is really about to burst and I´ve resorted to standing on it in order to get the zipper closed -- and met up with Aysha and Rhys for our goodbye dinner and drinks soiree; they were taking off to Salvador the next day and I do feel sad to see them go because we got along ridiculously well. I dont remember much of the night because we had two bottles of wine and earlier I had gone into a street art gallery and gotten beer from the curator and then had two glasses of coffee. It did involve stumbling around from bar to bar and craving chocolate brownies. Yea, lightweight, I know. But yea, the gallery was really cool, it featured a ton of graphic designers by day turned experimental artists at night kind of thing, quite the same type of stuff I try to turn the kids onto for my various magazine articles. I got a bunch of tips from the curator on where to go and how to find out about things going on... too bad I couldnt have gotten this information earlier! People here are so friendly and always eager to help out. You know how in some cities in the states, you´re held responsible if you witness an incident and blatantly ignore it? That´s not how it is here. Brazilians are never too cool for school.

The next day I took a long walk and ended up back in Villa Madelena, but what a lucky trip that ended up being: I stumbled across a small plaza leading to a long alleyway of graffiti. In the plaza a dub/dancehall party was beginning to bump and the orange flare of joints looked like fireflies floating in between the crowd. And down the street I also found another street party, this one funk and soul and hip-hop. Someone had organized a DJ setup right in front of a lanchonette, a common Brazilian fast food type place that specializes in burgers, Brazilian fried food of a variety and beer. Beautiful. So I danced for five hours -- hell, they were playing Quasimoto next to Aretha Franklin and James Brown and bossa nova, samba and more Brazilian music -- and met a bunch of cool Brazilian cats at the soul event; I drank so much beer and had half a cup of cachaca, straight... agh... so slight headache today. We´d get a little bored and then head to the other event, and back again when we felt like it. You could never find anything like this in the states, if not alone the no-no of drinking on the street.
I finally noticed no one speaks English here, even the young people. I think the public schools here dont emphasize English too much. Yan, please correct me if I am wrong but the group I met pointed it out.


LATER
I am in Sao Jaio del Rei, a town with a colonial center that I cant really observe well because it~s the evening now. But so far, so quaint. The ride here was different than what I´ve been getting used to seeing in Brazil -- instead of coconut and palm trees though, it´s all hilly. Occasionally scarlet red gashes of earth interrupt the green carpet of pastures, and there´s a distinctly more relaxed feel here. Even the bus itself, they left all the windows open, much to my relief. Usually they turn on the air conditioning till it´s a freezer box and they dont provide any blankets. But the winner of the worst bus rides ever has to be Bolivia. I dont remember if I´ve really gone into how bad they are, but yea, you´d think you were in Antartica when you closed your eyes. No bathrooms on the busses either even for the long distance rides, and I´ve heard countless stories of Bolivians pissing on the floor, etc. And the smell on the Bolivian busses... humanity is all I can say. I smelled humanity, every inch of its putrid body, in Bolivia many times.
Speaking of bodies, I learned yesterday that the OK sign that I´ve been steadily relying on as a way to communicate since I cant speak Portuguese -- thumb and index finger touching in a shape of a circle, with the rest of the fingers pointed upward -- also means asshole. Great. Thumbs up it is then.

I was thinking on the bus ride if I ever cant find a job, my last resort may be professional mimeing (miming? mimisim?). I have gotten so good at using body language to get something I need or to ask important questions. You should see me, arms and legs in motion, face turned into a mode of query. I would never do this shit at home, but I when you travel, you rely on your primal instincts.
I was also thinking, on the same bus ride, that I have changed as a person. I am not sure how, but because I have put myself into new situations in a new place, I am new. I always used to complain at home that things were always the same. Sure, I´d experience new things at home, but you dont go through as complete a transformation as when you´re put into a foreign (literal too sometimes) place. I really think that is one of the keys to changing your life. And with this I have never felt so much more strongly about being able to live somewhere else and really make a go of it. Living a new life, adapting. And hell no it will not be in the U.S.!

Sao Paulo: Party city

Only my second day here in Sao Paulo and I´ve totally fallen in love with this place. There is so much to do here. I´m so happy to be in the city again, after the Pantanal. The snorkeling we did in Bonito on the last day there was great fun -- swam alongside giant purple fish, tiger-looking ones, salmon and a school of others. I did well considering I´m a crap swimmer. Halfway through we had to get out and walk to another part of the river to avoid some roaring rapids, but when we got back in, the current was still strong in that part, so we were swept a few meters down the river without too much help. I thought it was exciting trying to dodge rocks and branches though. The guy from Michigan in our group who was hyperventilating for the first 30 minutes didnt think so though.
Sao Paulo is surprisingly expensive, more than the smaller towns Ive been to in Brazil. I´ve already had to resort to busting out my old student I.D. for one of the museums (handy for entrance fees), the Museum of Art Sao Paulo. Quite a nice collection once you ignore the really blah, soporific 15th century church artwork and the French and British schools of painting. God, they didnt have much fun back then. The MASP has a few Picassos, Cezannes, Manets, Monets, Renoirs and a Bosch that I havent seen before. The two particular pieces I saw by Cezanne (the names of which I dont know because they were written in Portuguese and I couldn~t translate them) were emotive, a quality I havent found before in his stuff.
I am also happy to be in Sao Paulo because there are a ton of Asians here. Mostly Japanese, sure, but throw in a few Chinese and you´ve got a slanty eyed short person passing you every 2 seconds. I didnt realize how much I missed diversity, something I take for granted living in L.A., until I got to this city. I cant describe the feeling I got when I finally saw people who looked like me.
So Sao Paulo has the largest population of Japanese outside of Japan (or is it the second largest, I dunno), which means my top priority was to visit their Little Tokyo. I had a couple good laughs. Menus written in Portuguese. They call ramen here ´´lamen,´´ which sounds aloud like a FOB saying ´´ramen.´´ It´s really funny. I stopped at a lamen house and had a great giant bowl of miso lamen and wolfed it down... I´ve been looking forward to Sao Paulo since the beginning of the trip because I miss Japanese food so much. I asked around for a Vietnamese restaurant, but that´s sadly lacking (or should I say ´´racking´´?) here. I´d love to open a Vietnamese restaurant, any investors out there?
After that meal, I went to the Japanese supermarkets and I let the saliva dripping off my lips help navigate me up and down the aisles. Curry, those fruit gel candies, Calpisco drinks, roasted and salted seaweed... I felt at home!

I am staying in Bela Vista right near a large commercial district focused around a major boulevard called Paulista, and it´s in a pretty swanky part of town. Reminds me a lot of Ipanema in Rio. The only place around here to avoid at night is downtown, which was a surprise to me because all I´ve heard about Sao Paulo is how dangerous it is. Tomorrow I am heading to the largest park in the city, Parque Ibiraquera, for two more museums and to buy my ticket to Skolbeats. Skolbeats is a major annual dance music festival that happens every April or May, and this year the Prodigy are playing live (not that I care), with LCD Soundsystem heading another tent. I will be in the drum & bass tent all night though. DJ Marky, Andy C and a bunch of other d&b DJs Ive always wanted to see will be commanding the decks. Going to this event kind of throws a kink into my schedule though. I´m going to have to return to Sao Paulo in a few weeks and then fly from there to Salvador to continue my journey northward. I´ve actually changed my itinerary somewhere in between the restless bus rides. If I dont have Aysha´s iPod to save me from myself, I end up thinking about stuff I probably shouldnt. Anyway, different tangent for another post, maybe. So yeah, I am spending 2.5 months in Brazil, which means I have to cut out Colombia. It was that or Ecuador. I need to move here to keep traveling!
I hope to go out tonight or tomorrow, but man, it is expensive. Getting a taxi here and trekking to another part of town, you expect to pay $10 just one way because of traffic and the large distance between sections of the city. Then there is the entrance, which shouldnt be too much, but there are drinks to be had and then the issue of getting back. How do the Paulistas do it?
Also, I am shopped out. Diesel costs 2 times as much here as it does in the States, due to the 50% tax that´s added, so the clerk told me. I tried on a pair of $400 jeans at the store. If I move here, one of you guys is going to have to be my pusher for Mac and electronic stuff, magazines, Diesel ...
Speaking of partying earlier, Aysha has been making fun of me for the way Americans say party -- with a ´´d,´´ and moreover, that we use it in the way we do. She´s been starting to talk like me though, despite that, and ´likewise, I cant strike the words ´´proper´´ or ´´quite´´ from my vocabularly. This is what happens when you hang out with Brits for too long and vice versa...

Added photos.

I´m taking advantage of this great Internet place and have added photos to my old posts. Hope you enjoy.

Pantanal Part II.

Finally! Some time and a great connection to tell my tale of the Pantanal...
When Aysha, Rhys and I got to Campo Grande to book a tour into the Pantanal, we were inundated by tour operators. To make a really boring backpacker story short, we settled on one, sort of confident about spending our $150 for 3 days/4 nights with a the particular place we´d chosen. This one put you on a farm with a family, so it seemed more personal, and plus other backpackers cmmented positively about their experience with them the comment book at the tourist office.
We opted to take arrive on the farm at night because we wanted to get started on our activities in the morning, but what a crazy adventure that turned out to be. There we were in the back of an ancient 1976 Toyota truck, bouncing around like ping pong balls in a lotto-draw machine because the benches werent secured properly and the roads were dirt and rock. OK, no big deal, kind of fun. Add in the element of taking the only road that crosses the southern Pantanal in the complete dark though. Apparently the headlights didnt work. So we pulled out our flashlights and saw lots of animal eyes reflecting back alongside the road, which was pretty cool, and saw more stars than I have ever seen in my life, Milky Way included.
When we approached the farm, all I could make out ahead of us was water and bog. The driver put the car in gear and off we went through this deep bog, the water reaching as high as the top part of the wheel. About half the journey was through bog, all in the dark -- crazy that these guys know the road that well that they can just drive on through. We made our way kilometers through savannah and thick forest and more bog, sometimes all at the same time, and after an hour got to the farm. Unfortunately they had already turned off the generator so we had to unpack by flashlight, which, again, was something I had already gotten used to being in Bolivia, so it wasnt a big deal. Inconvenient and annoying, yea, but all part of the good money I paid for the trip.
So our first activity the next day was a walk in the morning with piranha fishing. Cool. Put on my flip flops and shorts, sighted some blue macaws hanging out in pairs (they are alwawys coupled off apparently), and followed Tiago, our 19-year-old guide who spoke a little English, through the jungle. Saw lots of trees, bugs, dead things and heard noises at levels that rival a kindergarten class during recess. Things werent so bad in the beginning, but we had to cross parts that were soaked in mud and water that came up to our ankles. Yuck. The water was yellow but clear enough so you could see to the bottom, but hell, I didnt want to take my sandals off and put my feet in there, on tall grass and other live plants. Problem was, as soon as your flip flop landed in mud or anything slightly mushy or wet, it would get sucked like a manic vacuum cleaner into the ground and inevitably your foot would slip out of it. So we had no choice but to take off our sandals. OK, so my first fear was slightly overcome because of this experience -- bare feet in swamp water and stomping on plants in naked feet. Despite this new bout of confidence, it didnt help things when we were crossing a particularly deeper part and a sheep came running full speed out of the forest, straight at us, almost knocking all of us into the water/bog. Piranha fishing was disappointing because we didnt catch anything -- perhaps another time, no big deal. While we walked we asked Tiago questions and he seemed to brush them off, I think because either he didnt want to answer them, didnt know the answers or didnt understand English. He was sweet the whole time though, very fun and oddly very much like our playmate rather than our guide.

When we got back, we ran into the other backpacker at the farm, a German guy whose guide was Rodrigo. We already liked Rodrigo much better because he spoke English, was knowledgeable and although he wasnt our guide, took us around the farm before breakfast and showed and told us about the birds in the trees nearby. Anyway, in the afternoon, all of us were taken on a boat ride down one of the rivers in the Pantanal. The scenery was nice -- green trees and plants and red soil combined made for a vibrant landscape -- but the piranha fishing we did on that ride yielded nada. We were pretty disappointed because there obviously were no piranhas in the part of the river. And Tiago still wasnt really being a proper guide and we were getting bored.
But ho ho ho, that wasnt the end -- it was quite actually the beginning. After the boat trip, we walked through dirt to meet the truck and see the sunset. When we got to the truck we found out that they were supposed to meet someone for a part for the truck, so we~d have to wait a little. Rodrigo suggested we start walking back instead of sitting around doing nothing, and the truck could just pick us up on the way. Aysha and Rhys opted to stay with the car, but I wanted to get some exercise, and so did the German. Off we went, with my Mag lite as our only light source in case it got dark.
We walked for 15 minutes. Rodrigo pointed out all the animals -- indicated by the noises they make -- that come out at night. I enjoyed his lecture on what happens when day turns into night and what actually happens behind the scenes, behind the thick curtain of lush forest, in the Pantanal. We spotted dozens of types of birds, rodents, heard the howler monkeys hooting like fans at a Brazilian soccer match in the back, walked around cows on the road. It was getting dark pretty quickly. So we kept walking toward the farm. Still no truck. By then the mosquitoes had come out in full force and I practically soaked myself in Off! (lovingly also known as Fuck Off! to some) spray, but to no avail. We were all in shorts and tanks, so it was not a nice picture to see, us swatting and slapping ourselves. Rodrigo was in charge of my flashlight, but being that the light wasnt so strong, we had to stay close together. He~d only walked this famous road in the dark one time before, and it is actually a very dangerous thing to do at night -- you dont know what animals are on the side of the road that could come rushing out at you out of fright and sheer stupidity. 30 minutes later, we were still walking, and it was pitch black. Our night vision helped us make out outlines of trees and the road, but otherwise, we couldn~t see jack, and the flashlight only gave us a short viewing distance. We were getting nervous. Where the hell was the truck? Rodrigo told us to stay closer together and stay away from teh sides of the road. He sounded a bit scared, but I wasnt sure. When your guide sounds scared, believe me, you dont feel so hot as well. The last thing I wanted -- we wanted -- was a jaguar jumping out of the dark and eating us alive, with no witnesses -- this road is deserted for long periods at a time.
45 minutes later. Still no fucking truck. We were so pissed off by then, being eaten not by jaguars or caiman but by mosquitoes. We were so mad that the other two guides hadnt met us yet, knowing well that we were walking this road in the pitch black, that obviously they didnt give a shit about us or Aysha and Rhys, who were waiting with them. We werent being put first and for what we were paying, that was a really crappy thing to do to a tourist. Occasionally we´d hear a huge rustle in the trees next to us and we´d jump, and Rodrigo would swing the flashlight to the area we´d heard the noise coming from. Other times we´d see the reflection of eyes on the side of the road and have to stop to figure out what animal it was before determining it was safe to pass. Red eyes reflecting meant it was either a caiman or a jaguar. One time we thought it could possibly be a large -- read: dangerous with big teeth -- animal, so we waited it out and backtracked to the last bridge we had passed for safety. Not sure how that was a safe alternative -- would we jump into the water if it turned out to be a jag or what -- but anyway, it seemed like a better idea than crossing and then finding out what it was after the fact.

1 and half hours later and we got to the entrance of the farm. Rodrigo presented the option to us that got a big NO response from me -- walk to the farm, but in order to get there we had to cross 3 lagoons in the dark with only my crappy flashlight, two of which had water that went up to your hip. No friggin way was I going to do that. But if the German guy wanted to do it, I would have to go along, I was thinking. He had done the crossing in the daytime with Rodrigo, so knew what it was like, but thank god, he said he also had a fear of unknown stuff in water at night -- stuff that you cant see like snakes (anacondas) or caiman. So I suggested we walk back and hopefully the car would be coming toward the farm by then. Behind us, in the distance, a truck was coming. I figured we could hitch a ride on it.
So we began walking back. Had to deal with the same hazards, red eyes and all on the side of the road. Pretty harrowing. We recognized a racoon about a third of the way back and while we stopped to observe it and learn more about its nocturnal life (this, of course, was still an educational tour, and I was happy that Rodrigo made that the main point even though we were in this shitty situation), the German guy suddenly yelped at the top of his lungs, jumped up and kicked me in the shin. Rodrigo swung wide with the flashlight -- we were startled shitless -- and pointed it at the German, who was clutching his foot and hopping around. We were standing on an ant hill. As soon as we realized that, we booked it. Lord.
The other truck that I thought about hitching came and Rodrigo screamed at them to stop. They totally ignored us. WTF? Turns out they were probably caiman hunters. Hunting caiman is illegal in the Pantanal. They were swerving left and right on the road, definitely looking for something, so it explains why they ignored us.
Our truck finally came, but by then the German guy and I had decided to complain to the other two guides about what happened that night. These guide are part of the family that owns the farm. We had a good adventure, sure, but in the end, it was a really shitty situation to be in.
The next day, Aysha, Rhys and I had made plans to ask that we be switched to Rodrigo as our guide. The German guy and I talked to the other guide and made our complaints known, but he didn~t seem to care, he was more interested in making his point that they had to wait for the part. Yea, but do that on your own time, not ours, we said. Instead of getting back at 6 we got back closer to 9, with only 1 hour of electricity left. Bad news -- Rodrigo was going to leave that day, so we heard from the German guy. The German guy took off back to Campo Grande and we were the only ones on the farm, really already wanting to get out of the place with a few days left in the trip.

Things got better though. Rodrigo ended up staying and they put him with us. Tiago was visibly hurt. I think he developed a crush on me, but overall we hadnt made it clear with him that he was a bad guide. Rodrigo took us on a 4 hour walk and piranha trip, in which I learned even more, among them parasitic trees (trees that wrap their trunks around others, essentially killing them) and the habits of the animals in the Pantanal. That~s when I walked through water and grass up to my crotch -- gross, by the way -- and got over walking barefoot on mud and plants. I caught two piranhas in a fishing hole that Rodrigo knows about (see, he was a better guide), one of which was big enough to eat. Later in the day, we went horse back riding. I had a misbehaving horse, but the mammal made it up by taking me on a fun gallop through the bog. I got wacked in teh face by a branch, but that kind of stuff you cant avoid if you´re as much as an inexperienced rider as me.
When we got back to the farm, Rhys and Aysha pulled out the cachaca we had bought at the beginning of the trip. We proceeded to get wasted with Rodrigo, caipirinhas for everyone made with fresh limes from the tree right outside the house. Soon the other tourists who had just arrived and Tiago as well, joined in. It broke the tension. Tiago kept making comments like, You change (sic) your guide, why dont you ask your guide? or We heard a jaguar today! as if to make us regret our decision that we went with Rodrigo. I asked him if he was mad about it, and he admitted he was. Rhys was hilarious -- was so drunk that when Tiago said again about us having changed our guide, Rhys said, Yea, because he~´s a fucking better guide! to which Aysha scolded him aloud for saying. Tiago laughed or ignored it -- he´s quite a kid in all his mannerisms. When we had gone through two bottles of cachaca, Rhys asked Tiago about fumigating the room. Tiago at first refused but gave in. What a disaster. We walked into the room and he was going crazy with the pump that dispenses the chemical that kills the bugs. We asked him if we had to leave the room for an hour, because he had told us that before, but this time he said it was ok to stay. We all left in a rush -- Tiago was getting out of control. After that, for the rest of the time we were there, the room reeked of bug spray. Only the French couple stayed through it all.
The next morning we went on a safari on the main road to check out river seals and more birds, but the truck got stuck in the bog on the way out of the farm to the main road. So we all had to get into the water and mud and push it. By then Rhys, Aysha and I had already decided we were leaving a day early even if we werent going to get any partial refund -- we had done all the activities and were just done with this particular farm. I had complained about the state of the bathroom but it still wasnt cleaned, just to give you an idea of how these operators were. The safari was ok, but we didnt see much overall -- the walk yielded 10 times more wildlife.
After lunch, we hopped in the back of the truck again, this time with Rodrigo, who was also leaving, all of us absolutely elated to be getting out of there, to not have to experience again the painfully long time it takes to get out of the farm through the bog and getting hit in the face with branches if you didnt duck in time. We only had 2.5 hours to get to the bus stop. So get this -- we ended up getting stuck in the bog. We were all stressed out because we know that if we didnt make the bus we would have to go back to the farm and spend another godforsaken sleepless, hot, sweaty night there. We rolled up our jeans up and get out of the truck into the mud and once the truck started rolling, we ran after it (very difficult to do when your feet are kicking up mud and water and simultaneously being sucked into the mud and grass at the same time, and the whole time you pray to Allah, God, Satan, that you dont fall because all your stuff is packed away and you need to get on a bus for 5 hours) and hop on because if it stopped too long it would start sinking. Goddamn it, huh. After a stressful hour we finally made it to the road. Off we went. Two-thirds of the way through I see us coming toward sinister-looking black clouds. As soon as that happens, rain starts to pour. We only have a canvas canopy above the back of the truck to cover us, and I had pulled out my rain jacket just in time. Rodrigo is soaked. But during the whole trip, stalwart that he is, he was still pointing stuff out to us. Like the huge stork nest resting on a tree with two also very huge storks standing on it. One of the most amazing things I have seen because they are such giant birds. So there we were, 20 minutes ago sweating and fighting off mosquitoes and then now drenched and covering our stuff with the tarp to protect it. I started to laugh hilariously, uncontrollably. Here we all were, trying to get the hell out of Dodge and what it was taking us to leave. Rhys and Aysha joined in.
In the end, we made it. A hundred caiman, a thousand birds and cows, a million insects and a billion mosquitoes later, we did make it.
I am in Bonito, just off visiting a cave with water that reflects a beautiful, jewel-like blue because of the magnesium and carbon minerals in the water. Also visited some waterfalls, one of which I swam in despite the muddy water -- no visibility at all. I got bit by a giant ant on the walk to the waterfalls, plus got at least 10 more mosquito bites, but I am happy...
Thanks for putting up with this interminably long post. I always complain that nothing ever happens to me, but its because I never did anything. Now I have so many stories to tell!

Fear overcome.

Quick one, this post. I am a new woman. Spent the last two nights suffering through the most monstrous mosquitoes I have ever seen in my life and am living to tell the tale. Also trekked through the swamp, barefoot, with water in parts up to my crotch, and yes, have lived to tell the tale as well. I hate plants, much less stepping on them in bare feet! The other night there was a small fiasco in which me, a German guy and a guide walked down the famous main road in the Pantanal in the dead dark, scared shitless (I was) because we only had one flashlight among all of us and had to keep stopping every few feet to make sure the eyes that were reflecting from the side of the road weren~t those that belong to a jaguar or caiman or god knows what else. And the highlight of it all, I caught two piranha -- the biggest of the group! More later.

Into the Pantanal.

I´m in Campo Grande now, writing from the bus station, awaiting a bus to take me and the couple I´ve been with for the past few weeks into the Pantanal, the luscious green jungle of Brazil. It´s promised to be somewhat like the Amazon, but you can witness more animal life here since it´s not as dense -- which also means that they´ll probably avoid the main roads though! I am looking forward to the animal sightseeing but not the cold showers... so I will be in touch with nature for a few days, dirt on skin and scalp and all.
Spent the last few nights on Ilha do Mel getting drunk with Aisha and Rhys on caipirinhas, eating too much cake and ice cream and the best part of it -- cranking up Aisha´s (the British girl) iPod speakers with Kelis, Super Furry Animals, Snoop Dogg, Missy, J.Lo and more set to almost top level and dancing like fools because we had the whole hotel to ourselves. How I miss music from home! A storm blew through the island and we were laying in hammocks, fully clothed and cold, kind of a weird experience to be not wearing only our swimsuits all day. I~ve spent my time doing nothing actually reading; Im reading an Isaac Asimov book -- my first -- and Im loving it!
I have to run to get some acai before I hop on the bus. I am obsessed with acai... a dark fruit drink that has a slight sweet taste. Need my power vitamins to fend off the mosquitoes soon.

Alive and tanned.

I´m still here on Ilha do Mel, recuperating and quickly healing from my staph infection. Yesterday I dared to venture on a long walk to the other end of the island, but it turned perilous quite quickly -- I had to cross a bunch of rocks to get past one beach, but it was like crossing through a war zone, where the ocean was the ammunition and the rocks mini hills. Christ. I got stuck in one part on a boulder, with nowhere to go, but luckily two couples came up right behind me and we all continued the trek together. Doing all of this in Havianas, too. I was rescued a few times by one of the husbands of the couple, which was easy for him since all he had to do was pick me up by the arms like a baby. Halfway through we had to wade through chest-high water to get to another rock and just as I was about to climb up, a wave crashed into me and knocked me over like a leaf, so I slipped and was pushed right into the rock. I think that was when I cut my index toe open, not too bad, but not too fun either.
When we finally made it we cheered and I hung out for the rest of the day with one of the Brazilian couples. It was quite nice actually. I got my toe cleaned and bandaged up and now Im off to the beach... paradise comes at a cost sometimes!

To Be or Not To Be (One of these): Strep or Staph

Big joy. I have, most likely, a staph infection from a mosquito bite on the front of my calf that I was lucky to score when I was in Florianopolis over the weekend. The wound wouldn´t stop crying and seemed to be getting worse, blistering and all, so I headed to the doctor (free!) this morning on the Ilha do Mel, a gorgeous island that reminds me of Boipeba, where I went last year when I was in Brazil. The doctor can´t tell if i~t´s either the staph or strep bacteria, but it~s definitely one of them.
So my next trip was to go deep in the jungle, but this puts a hold on things (drat!!). The couple Im traveling with want to wait it out with me, and I have to admit being stranded on this island isnt actually a bad thing at all. Being the worrywart that I am, I really hope that after my 10 day antibiotic dosage is over, this bacteria will really be gone; if you let staph infections continue, the offending part of the body could get amputated.
The mosquitoes are fucking fierce here. I write this post covered in DEET but I am not sure that it is actually working. Big-ass stinging bugs aside though, this island is lined with tropical forests, soft, powdery white sand and little bed and breakfasts. I´m enjoying this bit of paradise quite a bit and spent the first few hours of today in a hammock. Bliss...

Sin Titulo.

Im really running out of names for my blogs, so excuse this one.
Im writing from Curitiba, in the Brazilian state of Parana. Im here at this Internet place near a street called Rua 24 Horas, the name of which insinuates that everything on the street is open 24 hours, but its been dead around here. What do you get for a Monday, right?
Enjoyed a weekend in Florianopolis, on the island side of the city called Ilha da Santa Catarina (Jeff, jealous?), where all the Brazilians go for holiday. It is a beautiful place, with dozens of beaches all around the perimeter of the island, with sections dedicated to colorful fisherman villages and restaurants and tons of apartomentos and houses to rent. The water is the Atlantic, which means its still somewhat cold, but it is perfect for snorkeling in some places. At the south end, they hold country surfer competitions since the waves are so good, kind of like the Huntington Beach of Brazil. I was feeling a bit hesitant when I took the bus here from Foz da Iguacu because I didn~t see any backpackers on the same bus, which meant that I had no one to which to pose the question of renting a house with for the weekend. So I got to the bus station, was told some bullshit by one of the ladies trying to rent me an apartment on the busy side of this vacation beach town, and realized I was in the wrong tourist office. I ran into a couple from the UK in the office as well, who I had originally thought were Brazilians, and we headed to a backpacker hostel in the area of the island we wanted to be nearby. What a joke. The place was the filthiest place I~ve ever set foot in. They found a dead rat on one of the beds the previous day. I would have been sharing a room of 12 beds with all surfer dudes. Next. The couple, Aisha and Reese, and I eventually found a house (!) for way less than what it would have cost us to stay at the hostel... only $25 a night for a 2 bedroom. Score. I spent the day trying to catch rays inbetween the clouds, eating fish and beans with toasted manioc flour called farofa, walking around the area we were staying in, Barra da Lagoa, and generally doing nada. OK, yea, I checked out the Brazilian girls too... you can~t help it. They~re gorgeous. Really nice bodies, no cellulite whatsoever. Makes me want to put the brakes on the daily cake and candy intake. I will try.
The next day it was more of the same, except we headed to Praia Mole, one of the surfer beaches. Still too crowded for my preference but the sand was powder. Ended the day on a high note -- ice cream buffet while cars passing by honked in celebration of the Sao Paulo soccer team win. I am loving the land of buffets and am quickly finding out that there are buffets here for everything, from shrimp to ice cream.
Ive got a little bit of a medical problem. A mosquito bit me on my leg the first night in Florianopolis and its gotten infected already. I woke up this morning to an image of Mary on my leg, and Mary was crying and crying and crying with clear pus. The pharmacist put me on antibiotics so that I don~t get a staph infection, but since Im going into the jungle in a few days and plan to do a bunch of activities, Im worried it will get even more infected, which means I have to wait till it heals up somewhat. And with the limited time I have, this sucks! Agh. So frustrating. I am not having luck with the mosquitoes here, they love me...
Tomorrow, we are taking the train ride from here to Paranagua, supposedly the most beautiful scenery in Brazil. Then I will be on an island called Ilha do Mel, listening to reggae and not missing the sound of cars...

Obrigado Brasil!

I am in Brasil and immensely happy! Shit, I can´t begin to describe the harrowing journey here, harrowing because I got food poisoning again. It was definitely something I ate on my last day in Bolivia, probably airport or airline food. So I will forever remember Bolivia as the place I entered with the runs and left with the runs. Thankfully it didn´t hit till after I was in my shabby hotel across from the bus terminal in Asuncion, Paraguay (pretty dodgy place anyway), but I spent the whole night on the toilet, with the owner of the hotel giving me looks of sympathy everytime I left my room and headed to the bleak, cold, fart room. On top of being hella sore from the mountain bike ride, I had to deal with diarrhea. I was not a happy backpacker.
But it lasted only that night, thank god. I am currently in Foz de Iguacu and am leaving to Florianopolis/Ilha de Santa Catarina on the coast. The Foz de Iguacu are giant waterfalls in a large protected tropical forest, 60,000 square km of which sadly remains from the original 1 million sq km. I visited the Argentinean side of the Falls, since it gives you a much closer, upfront view, with the highlight among them the Devil´s Throat cascade. After my previous night perched on the porcelain bowl, all I could compare the massive fall to was the manic flushing I had endured. But no matter, I felt at one with the forest, with its humid, hot breath and soaring sun... minus the hordes of tourists though. It was a slight Disneyland experience (in Florida, not CA), but I was content watching thousands of butterflies flit through the forest and contemplating nature. And I was wrong before -- these falls aren~t actually the highest in the world, they actually fall as the 5th highest or so. But impressive nevertheless.
Brasil is so bloody expensive compared to Bolivia and Argentina that I´m sort of freaking out about it. Here, in the south, you visit the region in order to do activities -- go deep into the Pantanal (swamp land) to see animals, swim with fishes and visit caves with aqua blue, shimmery water (Bonito), stay on the best beaches and go snorkeling (Ilha de Santa Catarina, Ilha do Mel, Parati, Ilha Grande). In the north, it´s more of a cultural place, where you sit and enjoy the town as it is and don´t necessarily need to spend money on doing things in order to get the feel of the place. So already I´ve blown my $30 a day budget. Plus, there is all this great shopping here. I found a shirt with a giant screenprint of Axl Rose that I HAVE to buy. Plus, it~s so hot and humid here that my one pair of shorts are not going to cut it. It´s a joke almost for me to look at all the alpaca legwarmers and mittens I bought last week in Bolivia, which I have to schlep around for the next few months!
And the food in Brasil is awesome so far. I am so happy that the juices here are natural, meaning they don~t add water or milk to them like in Bolivia. I had an incredible meal yesterday night -- all you can eat pizza, but Brazilian style. Have you guys heard about churruscarias? They´re a distinctly Brazilian invention. You go into a restaurant, where there~s a double sided card at each place at the table. One side is red, the other green. Flip yours to the green side and you~ll be inundated with waiters carrying plates of barbecued meat, which they~ll cut and give you as much as to your liking. After you~ve had your fill, flip it to red to let them know you don~t want more. Flip it back to green when you~ve properly digested your serving. This is all for one price, buffet style. Well, take this idea and spin it with pizza. So there I was, waiter after waiter coming up to me with pan fulls of different pizzas. I ate garlic pizza, egg pizza, pepperoni pizza, spinach pizza... I can´t even remember what other versions I gorged on. I ate 8 to 10 pieces -- no friggin joke. I thought I was going to vomit, I was so full. But that wasn~t the end. Then came DESSERT pizza. I had heard about this before from two America Peace Corps workers I met in Bolivia who wanted to bring this pizza churasscaria idea to San Francisco, but I only half believed them. The waiter brought out a fruit pizza. Really, it~s just that -- a pizza with cheese and fruit (cherries, pineapple, other unidentified fruit) on it, hot. And then he brought out a banana pizza. Slices of banana on cheese, on dough. And THEN chocolate pizza -- a thick layer of chocolate shavings on cheese on dough, warm and crunchy. At that point I was really on the verge, but you know me so well -- I really have no self control when it comes to this oral fixation of mine. So I had that slice too, which I am not sure tasted really good because I had eaten myself into food shock land by then. Food at that point in the meal was no longer a method of sustenance or enjoyment, but instead an inhumane experiment on toleration and suffering. A true method of torture. In the end, I consumed how many slices of cholesterol? 15? With potato chips and Coke on top of that? I rolled home, 10.50 Reals lighter (the all you can eat pizza was only 8 Reals, with the other 2.50 Reals for my Coke).
I am sufficiently recovered now though. With my own bathroom for the last two days and a decent shower and TV, I think I am ready for more. More gorging, sun, food and all!

Death Road: Survived. Check.

Had the Most Amazing Experience of My Life No. 2 yesterday. Went mountain biking down the World´s Most Dangerous Road from La Cumbre into Coroico, which in the end isn´t so dangerous but gets its infamous reputation due to the amount of deaths that occur from it. Last year, one car a month went over the edges and two mountain bikers were going too fast and rode over the cliff. Most of the road is only wide enough for one car, which means traffic jams get pretty nasty on this thing and resemble puzzle pieces coming together when cars move to get past each other, dangling precariously on the sides.
We started at an insanely cold 4700 meters and descended down a paved road for about 30 minutes, with rain in full force. We received pants and a vest to wear over our clothes, but annoyingly the pants weren´t waterproof! We were soaked and shivering. I opted to hop back into the van and follow with the driver behind the other bikers till I could stop shaking from cold. When we finally got to the beginning of the Death Road, I jumped back out and hopped onto my bike. Very exhilirating. For 4 hours we descended on rocky dirt roads and uneven mud through lush jungle and waterfalls, across streams, all the time avoiding trucks and busses and stopping every half hour for snack and safety breaks. My ass hurts, my arms are sore and my hands are temporarily not 100% functional, but I´m a survivor. And can you believe it, despite my first time at mountain biking, I didn´t fall on the road! I did take a spill once, nearly putting my face right into some bushes, when coming to a stop on the side of the road, but I think falling -- literally -- occasionally in life is actually a very humanizing experience.
So the whole time I was riding the bike, I felt really at peace with the jungle. Perhaps it´s my Vietnamese heritage calling to me? The dense canopy of trees are hiding my destiny? Nah. The mosquitoes were having too much of a feast on me but I was so happy to be warm. La Paz has been utterly cold and I quite miss hot weather. We ended at a gorgeous jungle retreat with a little monkey climbing on the trees and ducks waddling around, but moreover, hot showers and soap!
At the airport right now, waiting for my flight to Asuncion in Paraguay. Then it´s off to Brazil tomorrow...

Copacabana to La Paz.

I´m back from Copacabana early. I had a bit of a disappointing sightseeing experience but the scenery and all the Bolivians I met along the way made up for it. The other day I took the bus to Lake Titicaca -- yea, that´s the name alright -- to visit the Isla del Sol, the place where the Incas believe the sun was born. Three and a half hours of hiking led to a sad bunch of rocks stacked up into a bunch of flimsy walls. Apparently they haven´t conserved the site too well.
But as I digress, it wasn´t the site that made the trip. I got insanely lost in the beginning because I couldn´t find the trail. I ended up through backyard farms, dry streams, and donkey and llama playgrounds, dodging sheep and all types of poop everywhere. With the high altitude, it wasn´t the best thing to be lost, but I ended up walking through little villages, which probably wouldn´t have happened had I known where I was going. Kids came up to me, asked me where I was from, what my name was and if I had any caramelo, which is what they call candy here.
An hour way through, I made my way alongside the beach. I turned the corner and a little girl with three of her schoolmates asked if I had any sweets. I said No, but I have some crackers if you want some. I handed each a dry cracker. Then, the next thing I know, a group of 5 little kids ran up to me. They had seen me giving a free handout, so of course, I obliged and gave them some as well. Then I looked up. A group of 30 (I promise, it was 30!) 6 year olds were running at full pace down the beach toward me. Before I could react, they were all on me, dirty, teeny hands reaching up at the crackers, which I was holding high above my head like a ransom. All I could see were hands, no faces. They were pushing each other so hard, and for what again? My tasteless wheat crackers. I gave out as many as I could. Some kids took two, and the other kids shamelessly told on them. In the end I couldn´t give all the crackers away because I still had two more hours to go on my hike and knew I would badly need sustenance along the way. I had to run like hell away from them because the mob of shorties weren´t taking no for an answer. As I was running, I noticed pigs everywhere on the beach. Small, black fatties chomping at sand. In that instant, I couldn´t help but think I was Piggy from Lord of the Flies. And appropriately enough, I passed a dead, headless pig beached ashore, dark bugs on it...
I also met a Bolivian girl on the way with what turned out to be not her sister but her 1-year-old daughter. She was only 19 and I asked her about her life, if it was hard, if she wanted more kids, if she liked it on the island. She had a sad face and I tried to get her to smile a few times and was successful. But yes, her life is hard, no, she in no way wanted more kids (so it sounds like she might have had her baby out of familial obligation), and she lived with her family of 10. She was gorgeous too, as all the indigineous Bolivians are -- really pretty dark skin, long, shiny hair tied into two braids down her back, Asian eyes, round faces and a small, flat nose. She left me at the crossroad to her house and the correct trail.
And theré´s no transition I can make into this, but I will say it anyway. I am getting so good at the squat-pee. Today was a little of a mess-up because I ended up peeing on my pant leg a bit, but I think by the end of this trip I will have thighs of steel.
Also, who would´ve thunk it, but I had one of the best pizzas ever on Isla del Sol. And Pringles taste so good when you haven´t had them in forever. Just a bit of home is making me happy. And I admit I´m getting a bit lonely, even though I´m meeting so many people. I see friends and couples traveling together and I feel a twinge of jealousy sometimes. I got all mush on the way back to La Paz. I´m back at the Israeli hostel, where it´s only groups of pals trekking together. I´m happy to be around them, really, because they´re a great self-deprecating bunch, which reminds me of you guys. They´ve also taught me to never take something at face value -- really. The last group gladly shared their story of how they bargained for TWO hours for a mountain biking experience down the World´s Most Dangerous Road. Note that things are so cheap here that they probably saved only a dollar in the end, but still. The Israelis also know where all the best places are. The way they put it, they´re like the mafia. If one Israeli hates your place, all the other Israelis will hear about it and never give you their business. And here in South America, that´s death! I was this close to buying fleece too, which I don´t need. It´s so cheap in La Paz -- 7 bucks for a jacket. All the Israelis come to La Paz for the jungle tour, the dangerous road and friggin´ fleece. They thought it was the craziest thing for me to give up the opportunity to buy fleece for all my friends and family and ship it back via boat. I hope I don´t regret this later.