Am I Corn or Kale?

It’s been over a week since we arrived in lovely Chiang Mai. The haze persists, as does the high quality of the food. For those who did not believe it the first time around, here’s the coconut ice-cream (also with an unexplainable scoop of sticky rice in the middle) on white bread:

As the days go by, Chiang Mai feels more and more homely. That doesn’t mean I no longer have to hold back from screaming in excitement every time I see not one, or two, but four people, many of them often kids or even infants riding together on a single motorcycle. Similarly impressive are the women who, for one reason or another, choose to ride sidesaddle on the back of someone else’s bike, sometimes without even holding on to the driver, putting all their trust on inertia and their own balance. Bikes are a way of life here, and I must admit I feel somewhat handicapped for never having even hopped on one before.

We have spent a great deal of time on the so-called “walking streets”, or street markets. While I have thus far refrained from trying the feared durian fruit or any deep-fried bugs (mostly I don’t want to purchase a whole bag and not be able to finish it), we’ve had fun bargain shopping for (lightweight) items around here.

We have also spent more time with our friends Som and P’Pae, including an afternoon trip up the Doi Suthep, a nearby mountain, to visit the temple complex up on top. Annoying but understandably, the main temple was under repair due to an earthquake that shook its structure sometime last year. Nevertheless, we had a fascinating experience as P’Pae walked us through various Buddhist fortune-telling traditions.

We have also been spending a lot of time doing our homework for the European leg of the our trip. I have grown a bit too accustomed to the low cost of living here, and keep trying to convert prices in Euro to the Thai Baht — bad mistake. Basically, for the price of one night in Europe (say, 50 Euros) one could spend a whole week on an island off the coast of Thailand; for the price of an European breakfast (8 Euros), with some care you could have breakfast, lunch and dinner for 3 days here…

After 14 hours on a train, we finally arrived in Chiang Mai late Monday night. The next morning we set out to respectively get to know the city (me) and reacquaint oneself with it (Norika, who lived here for a semester). A couple of things were quickly noticeable: although Chiang Mai is Thailand’s second biggest city, it is A LOT smaller than Bangkok, and thus much more navigable, friendly, and charming. It has become more and more a tourist destination because of its insane temple-to-area ratio (it’s hard to walk more than 5 minutes without bumping into one), but the locals will for the most part address farangs like us in Thai, which has in turn helped Norika remember a bit more of the language.

The second thing we noticed is that the city is covered in a thick layer of smog. As more than one person has put it, “Chiang Mai has a pollution problem.” The city essentially lies on a valley and is surrounded by mountains; a natural bowl. The primary source of the issue is the smoke emanating from farmers burning down fields before the next growing season (we are currently in the dry season), and what we got is a permanent, faint smell of smoke and a hazy atmosphere. Despite the meteorological report saying the weather would be clear (as in, no clouds of evaporated water), for all senses and purposes all days have been cloudy. And hot.

Nevertheless, we have been indulging in the amazing edible items Thailand has to offer. Meals have been exquisite (noodle dishes, noodle soups, fried noodle soups, coconut milk soups, green curry, red curry, sticky rice, fried fish, fried pumpkin, fried rice, fried rice ball crumbled with cilantro, onions, garlic, lemon juice, basil and raw ground pork and eaten on lettuce leaves as if it was a taco), desserts have been even better and more surprising (coconut ice cream on white bread bun? Mini crepes filled with coconut milk/creamed corn mixture? Shaved ice topped with mango, condensed and coconut milks? Yes, do sign me up), and drinks have not lagged too far behind (iced Japanese green tea with wheat, soy milk in a juice box, etc.). In other words, we have been immersed in Thai cuisine, breaking from it for the first time last night when we went out for some great Japanese food with Norika’s friend Som.

We also spent a whole day with Norika’s main host family during her stay here 4 years ago. Before lunch, her host dad showed us a couple of still-under-work, new-school temples made primarily of aluminum sheets (instead of gold). We saw monks and craftsmen and women working on the intricate panels that leave little to be desired in terms of technique when compared to the old temples. It’s neat to see people still dedicating time to these works of art/places of devotion, keeping the culture of the past alive yet giving it a modern twist.

Though our initial plan was to watch “Alice in the Wonderland” with Norika’s host siblings, the mall was crowded with teenagers and the tickets sold out. Instead, we let curiosity guide us to the mall’s fish spa. The concept of the fish spa is relatively simple: there are booth-type seats but in between them, instead of a table, is a large fish tank full tiny little fish eager to eat any dead skin off the customers feet, swarming the latter as they are dipped in the water. It tickles a lot at first, but after a while the feeling is quite blissful — though the whole thing never ceases to be funny, especially as mall-goers walk by and stare at your feet…

…which, by the way, have never felt cleaner. After that bizarre experience we headed over to the Sankampaeng Hot Springs. Before indulging in the Springs’ swimming pool, we walked over to a section of the park where the really hot water was contained: an elevated pool, with metal hooks on the inside for us to hang baskets of eggs underwater; the eggs were then naturally hard-boiled in a matter of 10 minutes. Then we fished them out and ate them as a picnic. Later, we had an excellent Thai feast with the whole host family and their friends (who owned a restaurant at the Springs) where I was encouraged to eat most of a whole fried fish, including its tiny and gooey eyeball.

We’ve been walking a lot, dedicating a whole day to circumnavigating the old city walls and checking out a few temples within. Overall, we’ve been seeing and taking in the good and the bad, the new and the old: temples next to gas stations, monks hunching over laptops… Thailand is crazy and sweet.

Before I forget: add “Get a Thai massage” to your bucket list. I was skeptical (though I’ve tried acupuncture more than once, I had never had paid massage) but very, very surprised. It turns out that a masseuse’s feet, elbows, and knees are a great addition to his/her mere hands. We only did 1 hour yesterday, but next week we’re going back for 2 — at least once.

On our way in we heard a CNN reporter mention that “it will be difficult to get around Bangkok this weekend.” She was, of course, referring to the “red shirt” protests mentioned on the previous entry. Although we don’t understand the nuances of Thai politics, we read enough news articles to understand that hundreds of thousands of people have been flocking in to Bangkok from all over the country for a weekend-long protest requesting the dissolution of the current Parliament and a new round of elections. What never became clear, of course, is what would happen if the government did not attend to such requests by the noon Monday deadline imposed by the red shirters (we are writing this from the train out of Bangkok, so we have no way of knowing until we reach Chiang Mai later tonight).

Armed with a far-from-detailed city map, we spent most of our Saturday on an afternoon-long stroll in search of the Hua Lampong train station to purchase our tickets in advance. Unsurprisingly, the weather here is oppressively hot (95F). Our guesstimate is that we walked for a good 8 miles total, through the touristy Khao San Rd. district to a large open area where the demonstrators were starting to gather, following the Grand Palace walls and then turning onward to a definitely non-touristy district, where I had one of those rare but valuable “wow, where am I and I’m so far from everywhere I’ve known and there is barely any room to walk in these crowded street full of vendors and good and bad smells and the vehicles here drive in the opposite side of the street I’m used to and they don’t seem to abide to traffic laws and this is awesome” epiphanies. While it is unfortunate that it was impossible to register these moments photographically, I doubt my brain will ever forget this particular feeling of overstimulation. It was remarkably hard to find a place to sit down to eat (I assume a good 80% of the meals consumed away from home in Thailand come from food stands), we eventually settled for a delightful stir-fried basil and veggies over rice/pad-see-yuh (amazing Thai noodle dish)/icea tea w/condensed milk combination that hit the spot. Just to assure myself that I was really in Thailand, I ate a (small) whole red chili pepper that happened to be on my plate and, despite the initial 10-15 seconds of “that’s not so bad” eventually had to pay the price for my eagerness. For about 15 minutes.

Exhausted from our walk, the heat, and spending the previous day packed in airplanes, we crashed early in order to refuel for our Sunday morning’s goals: the Grand Palace complex and the Wat Po (Temple of the Reclining Buddha). Despite containing the most revered Buddha image in all of Thailand (the Emerald Buddha), the former is also an unabashedly touristy site, and understandably so: if 200 years ago your king had ordered built temples and images and mansions and more temples, many of them covered in pure gold, wouldn’t it make sense to keep reaping the benefits from all that work, getting money from people who came from all over the world to see these magnificent sites? If anything, the King of Siam had some foresight.

It could be said that the Emerald Buddha is a bit like the Mona Lisa: neither can be photographed and are both surprisingly small in size but relevant nonetheless. Unlike the Mona Lisa, it sits on top of beautiful, ornate display that I should be stoned for not finding a better word for it than “pedestal.” The image is so well cared for that its golden clothes are changed from time to time. The experience of walking into that temple is nothing short of overwhelming: the walls are but one huge painting with hundreds of scenes meant to represent old tales and stories, and after a while (the same applies for the rest of the temples), you become desensitized by all the gold and wonder if such element really is all that difficult to come by. The latter point has a tinge of irony as our train cruises by the countryside, where more temples decorated in gold contrast with to the humble dwellings of rice farmers.

Wat Po was also a treat: the Reclining Buddha is absurd in size (about half the length of a soccer field, I think? I’ll wiki it when I get a chance), yet it isn’t in the main temple in the complex. To get to the latter (this will be hard to describe) we walked through what seemed like two layers of multiple Buddha images, each one slightly different than the next but all roughly in the same body position and size.

Afterwards we walked to a large open-air market in search for some more delicious Thai food. The whole food finding thing was slightly more complicated than we would have liked because we were actually at what is known as the city’s “Flower Market.” We walked back and forth a few times and settled for a restaurant outside the market, returning there in search of the glorious dessert I now know as Mango Sticky Rice. Basically, it’s sticky rice (a variety that, as the name indicates, sticks together but without the gooey consistency of overcooked rice — much the opposite, in fact) covered in sweetened coconut milk accompanied by perfectly ripe mango slices. It is ridiculous.

One thing the King of Siam may not have foreseen is that tourists may have a hard time with the “no shorts allowed when visiting temples” policy when it’s almost 100 degrees out. We decided against visiting yet another temple and started walking back to the hotel. On the way, we saw the protests were getting more intense: part of an avenue was blocked by parked vehicles; a few roads to the North, a parade of honking cars and chanting people were making themselves noticed [I‘ll try posting a short video of it on Facebook soon enough]. Partly because we were so tired, and partly because we felt it would be prudent to lay low for a bit while the city figured itself out, we got back to our safe haven and basically passed out.

We woke up a few hours later, had dinner and then headed to Khao San Rd. (which we hadn’t actually been on yet). I was excited to find out that he first Formula 1 race of the year was on, and that bars were showing it on every available TV. We sat down for a while to watch the end of the race while sipping on some strong-yet-poor-tasting Thai beer that warmed up much too quickly. I couldn’t help but notice how expensive beer and other alcohol is compared to food: here in Thailand, it is much cheaper to eat an awesome meal than to have a couple of brewskys. As far as getting your priorities straight goes, I must say I approve.

We left the hotel very early this morning to catch our 8:30 train. The city was tense due to the continuing protests and the impending deadline, and several of the main roads had been blocked off by the red shirters. Despite having dreamed last night that we got in a tuk tuk crash, we chose to get one instead of a cab to take us to the station (rationale: they are smaller and therefore could navigate through tighter traffic situations… not that I have anything against the Bangkok‘s awesome pink taxis!).

We of course survived the ride and arrived at the station more than an hour early. After a nice Thai breakfast (fried egg w/rice and pork & noodle soup), we found our train and… sat there, still at the station for about an hour, because protestors were blocking the main railway out of the city. We passed the time discussing the relative value of human life and eventually, the train rode away from Bangkok and into the North country.

We left L.A. on Thursday night and currently find ourselves in Hong Kong on… Saturday morning. On our 15-hour flight we rode the Earth’s night (it was never light outside throughout the entire flight) and skipped a day on the calendar: sorry March 12, but you never existed for us! Cathay Airlines provided us with some amazing food (we had previously selected from a list of 20+ options to have Indian food for dinner and breakfast, and were not disappointed) and excellent entertainment choices: I watched “Inglorious Basterds”, “A Serious Man”, and a couple of episodes of “Life” (basically a “Planet Earth” follow-up) while Norika got to catch up with the Twilight world by watching “New Moon”. We still found time to see “Catch Me If You Can” before we landed (with that in mind, see if you can guess who slept more). All in all, it was as good a 15-hour flight in Economy Class gets. The really crazy thing, however, is that we almost did not make it into this flight.

***

Although we flew in and out of there, we can’t say we spent any time in L.A. other than in the car or in the airport. Caitlin picked us up at the latter on Wednesday morning, and we drove over to Oceanside, a middle-sized city that looks like an archetypal Californian coastal town.

There we satisfied some of our most basic cravings, namely Authentic Mexican Food (including pickled carrots and horchata) and possibly the Best, Most American Meal I ever had. It was no golden eagle steak but rather an impossibly tall, elaborate burger with refillable, special fries (I got parmesan bleu, while Caitlin’s were cajun-flavored), followed by a classic Oreo milk shake… all that in a pier, overlooking the Pacific Ocean that I had just met for the first time.

I was also a sucker for the pelicans, one of which almost hit us in the head during a clumsy take-off.

Caitlin also took us to San Diego a couple of times (a half hour drive to the South), once to hang out with her friends and prepare a massive lasagna — I believe we counted 7 layers of noodles! Norika also had the privilege to stay classy and watch Will Ferrell’s “Anchorman” for the first time.  On Thursday afternoon we visited beautiful Balboa Park which, despite featuring some amazing pieces of colonial Spanish architecture, was actually built in the early 20th century to “preserve” that particular style.

Legit or not, the sunny weather and the pleasant surroundings made for a great afternoon.

***

That night we arrived at the airport more than 2 hours before our flight, which we hoped would spare us from being as rushed as we were in Sao Paulo.

Wrong!

We had done all of our homework concerning visas and allowed lengths of stay in Thailand: Brazilians can stay for up to 90 days, Americans for up to 30 days.  If you leave the country and come up, a new cycle ensues (though if you leave and return by ground, you only get 15 days instead of 30). That’s precisely why we decided to add a Cambodia side trip to our itinerary: our departure is precisely 31 days after our arrival, and Norika needed the aforementioned renewal.  Unfortunately, we did not have any factual proof that Norika and I will be leaving Thailand to go to Cambodia, for our plan was to purchase bus/train tickets after arriving in Bangkok (apparently our Cambodia hotel reservations wouldn’t cut it). Consequently, the airline could not let us (more specifically, Norika) board the flight to Hong Kong.

Argh!

Well, not so fast. The staff actually contributed with some productive ideas, and we ended up settling for buying a (fully refundable) return ticket to Hong Kong for early April. Of course, by the time everything was processed boarding was imminent, and we had to ask the airline staff to help us cut to the front of the huge security line. All in all, it was another rushed airport experience.

***

Naturally, once we arrived in Bangkok, Norika got through customs without any trouble; no checking of return dates or yellow fever vaccination. Despite hearing/reading stories about massive “red shirt” protests in the city, the only sign that such thing was going on were the numerous police crews patrolling the streets (supposedly, some 50,000 were mobilized to keep things under control in the Thai capital). More on that soon, perhaps.

My parents joined us in Ilha Grande last Monday and, despite the rainy and/or cloudy weather, we were able to enjoy milder trails and scenic boat trips. Indeed, Ilha Grande would have looked a lot like paradise had it been sunny there… but at least I got to snorkel for the first time at a place called Lagoa Azul (Blue Lagoon), which would have certainly looked bluer if… Oops, here I am complaining again.

Seriously though, we went back to the Lopes Mendes beach and played in the water for a long time. The waves were awesome (big but not too big) and we got extremely tired from riding them. Ilha Grande’s car ban really threw us off when we got back on the mainland (kids from other villages on the island come to school by boat!). We walked on the rocks, saw a dog trying to fight a huge crab, laid on a hammock, ate a delicious frozen coconut ice cream tiramisu, and I personally read a whole issue of National Geographic. Really, our only other complaint is that we both got sick toward the end of the trip.

The 7-hour bus ride to Sao Paulo was a bit of a traumatic experience for Norika, whose sinus infection/motion sickness combo almost did her in. It surely didn’t help that bus drivers in Brazil must be psychotic beings, driving extremely fast over non-cooperative roads (essentially for the first 5 hours of the ride we were either zigzagging through narrow mountain roads or slugging over huge speed bumps when we passed over coastal towns). To think that roads were not even close to being Brazil’s worst highways is truly frightening, but at least we felt smart about flying instead of taking an 18-hour bus ride to the Iguazu Falls.

The last few days in Sao Paulo have been quite busy. It took a good while, but the sun finally came out again at a rather ideal time: we planned to play some soccer (more precisely, futsal, a  variation of the game played on a small hard court which is essentially what I played my whole life) on Saturday, but it rained from the time we woke up till after 2pm. Then, a little over an hour before we were supposed to play, the rain ceased and the sun magically started to come out. My futsal skills were a bit rusty (I forgot about the man-to-man coverage this game requires) but played better overall than I used to. Norika was the only girl: ironic as it may sound, in Brazil soccer is seen as a “man’s sport” and women and girls (especially middle-class and up) are rarely invited/accepted/expected to play — of course some of them do, which is how Brazil actually has a competitive squad on an international level.

After soccer we made our way to a smallBBQ/live music gathering at the Arts & Communications Department of the University of Sao Paulo (USP). It sounds fancy, but it was not: despite being Latin America’s most distinguished univeristy, USP’s exclusively public funding (there is NO tuition) means their buildings are rather decrepit albeit oddly charming. In fact, it should approach many people’s mental picture of a communist university (which in a way wouldn’t be too far from the truth). Anyway, we had a good time listening to my friend’s jazz band, drinking ice cold cheap Brazilian beer, eating sporadic amounts of grilled meat, and chatting with a British guy who’s been to Rio way more times than us. That same night my sister picked us up and we headed over to a mass karaoke club/snooker bar in Liberdade, Sampa’s Japanese district, for one of her college friends’ birthday. There our bellies were graced with the odd mix of caipirinhas, temakis (cone-shaped sushi), and french fries.

Sunday we had our most culture-filled day since our arrival. We met my aunt at the Portuguese Language Museum, which featured bizarre multimedia presentation and slightly more digestible, interactive displays detailing the twists and turns of contemporary Portuguese. In the end, I think Norika understood better why this language is such a pain to learn. Later than night my sister invited us (and got us in for free) to the remarkably posh theater where she works (currently as a 2nd job). We watched an impressive, fancy production of “The King and I” — to Norika’s astonishment, both dialogue and songs were all in Portuguese. Slightly-too-operatic vocals aside, the musical was really cool (I think I enjoyed it more as I could understand what was going on) yet rather sad. Did anybody else think that?

Last night we went out to the famous Bar do Juarez to celebrate my 26th birthday and our imminent departure. We had a great time chatting the night away and survived a short but wild ride home.

Before I forget: if anyone ever comes to Sao Paulo, you must eat at Jaber. We would kill to have this kind of Arab food available in Northern Michigan or Vermont. Their savory selection is nothing short of amazing, but their sweets don’t fall too far behind.

Luckily we had time to go to the top of the Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf Moutain) the afternoon we arrived in Rio because the next two days were quite cloudy/rainy. We took the nearly centenary cable car system to the top and the view was naturally quite sweet.

The non-sunny days kept our activity level on the mellow side; they were also a nice break from the incredibly hot weather we’ve experienced in Brazil since our arrival; on the downside, this cloudiness led to our underestimating the UV rays and managing to get slightly sunburned. We walked quite a bit through the glamorous districts on Rio’s South Side — Ipanema, Leblon, and Copacabana — without daring to actually get in the water; as one may expect, coastal cities with more than 10 million inhabitants don’t have the cleanest beaches, and Rio is no different. Therefore, we opted for sticking to the city’s famous sidewalks by the beach, drinking water from green coconuts and then scooping out the fruit’s insides. Coconut rules.

On Friday we stopped at one of Copacabana’s many quiosques to indulge in a bowl of manjubinhas, tiny fried fish that are eaten whole with bones and all, before setting out on what certainly would be a leisurely stroll through the world’s most famous beach. The tide was abnormally high, and even the locals were marveling at the might displayed by the Atlantic Ocean and the insanity of the surfers that had the huge waves all to themselves. All of a sudden, in the midst of this touristy moment, I was approached from the side by a screaming man, who is holding a rag in his hand and crouching down to reach my right shoe, pointing and yelling O’ a merda! O’ a merda! (“Look at the sh*t! Look at the sh*t!”). I looked down to find that, indeed, my right shoe was covered in a strange substance that resembled something like creamy peanut butter or industrial carpet glue, but certainly wasn’t dog excrement as the man claimed while he tried to wipe it off with his tiny cloth as I kept walking. Over the next few seconds, I would take notice of a wooden box full of other pieces of cloth that the man was wearing on a strap around his shoulder, which led me to conclude that he was quite ready to assist any distracted tourists who may been distracted to the point of letting dog use their shoes as a bathroom. You see where this is going: there is NO way that a dog, however quick or small, would have been sneaky enough to relieve itself on top of my shoe. This, my friends, was not only a scam, but a particularly unreasonable one: this man expected to be rewarded for his services, even though what hit my shoe was definitely a substance he himself had managed to fling onto me (I’ll give him credit for that feat of stealth). He eventually gave up on us as it became clear I would not be able to help him: I was pissed that my shoe had been unnecessarily harassed, and I still haven’t figured out how to remove the stain from this mythical dog dung.

Overall, this situation was not as awkward as it was sad. Rio, not unlike Chicago and so many other big cities, is home to great disparities. Because of its touristic appeal, the glitzy South Side is well policed, while the favelas on the hills and anything West of the city’s downtown/center is unsafe druglord territory. It is easy to fall in love with Rio (the place truly is beautiful, and I can’t think of any other big cities in the world that have been graced with such terrific geographical features), but there is also a feeling that this picture is incomplete. All in all, we still find it hard to believe that we won’t return someday.

On our full day in Rio the sky was still a bit cloudy, but that didn’t stop us from doing the Christ Redeemer tour (Cristo Redentor), the notorious and impressive statue that overlooks the whole city. The statue was meant to be built in 1922 to celebrate 100 years of Brazil’s independence, but wasn’t concluded until 1931. At over 100 feet tall the statue, regardless of one’s religious affiliation, is a rather impressive work. The original plan was for the statue to be holding the world in one hand and a cross on the other, but that design was modified: on the version that was built and stands to this day, the statue’s position represents the cross and the city of Rio de Janeiro, the world. Modest.

***

Last Saturday morning we left to Angra dos Reis by bus. From Angra, we took a one and a half hour boat ride here with about twenty other people on a boat that had 6-8 “fun-noodles” as the only visible flotation device! I spent the ride calculating which piece of land was closest in case of a shipwreck…not necessary. Apparently we were supposed to take a different boat (larger/faster/safer), because when we arrived at the Guesthouse they said someone had been waiting for us at the (other) dock… oops. Anyway, we have a nice view of the bay from our balcony and even though it is “cold” and rainy it is pleasant. The afternoon we got here we had a delightful fish stew (moqueca de peixe) that came boiling inside of a cast-iron pot. It was amazing but it knocked us out for a few hours.

On Sunday we decided to take a long hike to the other side of the island since Marcelo’s parents were arriving today (Monday) and we didn’t think they would be up for an 8-mile jaunt over the mountain and back.  The woman who runs the guesthouse warned us that it was very difficult and she didn’t think I (Norika) would be able to make it (I must look weak) — obviously this made us even more eager to go (never miss an opportunity to prove someone wrong). Our destination was the 3rd prettiest beach in Brazil, Praia Lopes Mendes. It took us about 2.5 hours to get there including one stop at a small beach with one “restaurant” where we gobbled up the last cob of starchy corn they had. We saw at least one huge spider and a group of tiny little monkeys! It started raining lightly as we arrived to the beach so we piled our stuff under a tree and headed for the water (either way we were going to get wet). In contrast to the other side of the island the waves here were big and the water was clear blue. We didn’t stay long because we knew the trek home would be even harder given the rain on the clay/mud trail. With a little encouragement from swarms of mosquitoes we made it back in less than two hours — good thing too because shortly after we got back it started really raining… and it hasn’t stopped since (24 hours and counting as we write this). Below is a picture of Norika mid-hike and the view of a tiny beach from the top of the trail.

We just got back from the Iguazu Falls, and there isn’t all that much to say about them other than, well, wow. Nevertheless, we’ll try to elaborate.

Last Thursday we flew to Foz do Iguacu through Gol, Brazil’s premier budget airline. As far as we can tell, their service is efficient and their landings are berserk: according to my sister’s boyfriend, they use a cheaper variety of brakes that cool off faster than hydraulic ones, allowing their aircrafts to land, drop people off, and take off within 20 minutes or so. The flipside is that the planes hit the ground incredibly hard and only slow down because the turbines/engines are reversed, which leads me to believe that an emergency landing in case of an engine issue would be all but a lost cause.

On Friday we arranged to have a guide, Heberth, help us tour the Argentina side of the falls. While we’d like to avoid guided tours as much as possible during this trip, we were convinced it would be much faster and easier to go through border/customs procedures and navigate the huge national park if we had someone experienced around (we were right); we also avoided the hassle of multiple bus rides and worrying about catching the last bus back before we got stuck in Argentina for the night! Our small group included the two of us plus my sister, Carol, along with 4 gringos: 2 Canadians from Quebec (Mario and Francois), a Dutchman (Nils), and Olivier from France.

They were all nice, and the tour was a success. It makes sense that the Iguazu Falls are on the shortlist for the 7 Wonders of the Natural World: the place really has a magical feel to it. I have never seen as many butterflies OR bigger spiders before (we’ll spare you of the pictures). Over the course of the day we also saw hordes of playful koatis (a cute relative of racoons), tropical birds, lizards large and small, one lone scared monkey, a chubby little red deer, and a toucan. We started by taking the 2-mile train ride to the long bridge over toward the Devil’s Throat (the falls’ largest continuous curtain of water) at the end of which we got soaked and witnessed my sister getting stung by a bee for her first time. She had no idea if she was allergic or not, but given she did not stop breathing or break into hives within a few minutes, we figured she would be fine.

In the afternoon we walked around a few more trails before embarking on the actually exciting part of our tour: taking a boat ride upriver into the falls! As you may imagine, this kind of adventure involves getting completely soaked, and picture-taking was not an option (of course, throughout the boat ride one of the guides is filming the whole thing, just in case you want to drop 60 bucks on the DVD). Even more so than we expected, the experience was breathtaking, overwhelming, awestrucking… and very, very wet. It certainly created a vapid feeling of “oh sh#t, are we really going toward that waterfall?” and then seconds later you couldn’t see a thing. It’s totally worth it, and we would definitely recommend it to anyone who makes it all the way to Iguazu (except for babies, older folk, or anyone who’s afraid of water). The picture below is not the greatest, but should give you the idea of what you’d be getting yourself into:

See, that’s the “oh sh#t” part.

Our Argentina tour lasted close to 10 hours, so we were wasted by the time we got back to the hotel. That night we discovered an awesome “per kilo/all-you-can-eat” restaurant that we ended up returning to twice more before the end of the trip.

The next day we went over to check out the Brazilian side of the falls. While in Argentina one can get awfully close to the cataracts, Brazil offers a shorter trail with an incredible panoramic view.

As in the previous day, we got lucky with the weather and the rainbows (it did get uncomfortably hot in the afternoon, but we’re trying our best not to complain so as to not offend our Northern Michigan friends). In the afternoon  we headed over to the Parque das Aves (Bird Park), which predictably is a variation of a zoo focused mostly on birds. While every zoo has a lameness aspect to it, this one did have a neat feature: giant caged areas that you could walk into to hang around with your new bird-o-buddies. The level of coexistence was quite impressive, probably because these birds were either bred in captivity or “rescued” (whether that’s true of an euphemism, who knows) at a very early age. A toucan developed great interest and almost an appetite for my toes, but luckily through all of these interactive cages no one was hurt or defecated upon.

On Sunday morning we toured Itaipu, a bi-national hydroelectric dam/powerplant co-owned by Brazil and Paraguay. It was kind of eery to visit such an atrocity towards nature the day after seeing such genuine beauty: Itaipu is the world’s largest operational hydroelectric plant (there is a dispute with one in China; wiki it if curious). The dam is about 5 miles long and the generators produce virtually all of Paraguay’s energy and more than 20% of Brazil’s share. As an engineering feat it is truly brilliant, but it did leave me with the same gut feeling as a similarly artificial, human-built, godforsaken stretch of Indiana landscape we once passed through on the way to a Radiohead concert (which ironically must be what Thom Yorke experiences every day he wakes up, based on the band’s lyrical content).

We had an easier time posting videos on Facebook than on this blog, so below are a couple of links:

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=364083751208

 http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=363619101208

Today is the final day of the Carnaval holiday and for us that means that the city will get busy again as all the Paulistas return from their beach vacations. Although Carnaval is one of the things Brazil is recognized for internationally some Brazilians all but ignore the festivities. Marcelo had never attended a Carnaval performance so we decided to take advantage of our timing here and see what all the fuss was about. Saturday night (the second night of 3 parade-like performances) we ventured to the far out stadium (used almost exclusively for Carnaval) to witness the madness. Quite honestly I was expecting to see more nearly naked people, but I guess Sao Paulo Carnaval is somewhat tame compared to other cities (and/or the media focuses on the bare breasted beauties that are among the minority of performers–imagine that). Anyway, the performances started around 10pm and by the time we left at 4:30 am, 2/7 of the schools had yet to perform! In this competition each school had between 3,000-4,000 participants who paraded down the long corridor of the stadium for about 1 hour. Some schools had as many as 28 different sections (each with different costumes and routines) and 5 massive floats. The schools pick a theme to which they compose a Samba that is played/sung over and over during the entire hour. Costumes are elaborately gaudy and look best from a distance. We had the (mis)fourtune of being caught in the chaotic aftermath of one performance as we were making our way to the spot where Marcelo’s mom was picking us up. We bobbed through the sea of neon-colored synthetic fabrics trying to avoid getting our eyes gouged out by some sharp plastic spines.  Luckily, we were not in an altered state (except that of sleep deprivation) as this experience would have been terrifying! Seeing the performers up close I was suprised by the average nature of many of the people.  For some reason I imagined that only young, beautiful, and fit people were allowed to perform–maybe next time we will participate 🙂  That’s not to say there weren’t celebrity performers, the most remarkable of which was the soccer player Ronaldo, World Cup’s all-time leading scorer (15 goals in 3 different tournaments). At the tender age of 33, he’s currently overweight and playing (occasionally) for the loathsome Corinthians, one of the city’s main teams–they have the greatest following in the state and 2nd-largest in the country. Since their organized torcida has its own Samba School… there he was.

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On Sunday, after sleeping until noon, we drove to Centro to visit the big Municipal Market. The concept of large, indoor city markets is somewhat common (Toronto has a neat one), but Sao Paulo’s is distinguished for having restaurants that serve the classic paulista lunch: pao com mortadella, a hot bologna sandwich on the omnipresent french roll. The bologna is sliced impossibly thin and is used in obscene amounts: I used to make cold bologna sandwiches at home in Brazil with 2 to 3 slices, and my sandwich must have had about 20! There is, of course, evidence:

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Yesterday we drove to Campinas, a city about an hour and a half northwest of Sao Paulo, to have the famous feijoada. Some of Marcelo’s family friends invited us to join them for this delicious meal that took them about seven or eight hours to prepare. By the time we arrived most of the cooking had been done so unfortunately we did not get to observe the whole process.  While we waited for the bean/pork concoction to stew, we were pressured into drinking a couple caipirinhas (a very strong alcoholic drink made with fruit pulp (we had one with lime and one with passion fruit), sugar, and a lot of alcohol (in this case vodka).  Needless to say, by the time the food was ready to eat we were a little tipsy and very hungry. In addition to the bean/pork dish feijoada includes rice, farofa (a grainy manioc flour), greens (maybe chard) cooked with bacon chunks/grease, and pieces of orange to cut the fat content! Although I am not a big fan of pork, this was some of the best tasting food I’ve had here. After two plates full we moved on to dessert: passion fruit mousse and key lime pie (both home-made of course). At that point it was nearing 5pm and most of the people there (I think there were between 15-20) crashed on the living room floor. We waddeled out to the car to head for home and I was sleeping within ten minutes… even though I had just had coffee!

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More Carnaval pictures!

Our week started with a trip to the vaccination clinic to get the Yellow Fever vaccine that is required for entry into Thailand (only because we are in Brazil prior to arriving in Thailand).  Despite my strong aversion to needles and shots, the experience was saved by the 60+ year old doctor’s extreme display of style via protruding white chest hair (seriously 3-4 buttons were undone)–if only we had a picture! I guess with the 90+ degree heat even doc has to cut loose.

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Tuesday we spent the day with Marcelo’s aunt exploring the old part of the city: Centro.  I liked this area very much as it has more character and charm than the other more metropolitan parts of Sao Paulo.  I think we walked about 8 miles and although I was exhausted by the end of the day it was worth the effort.

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Who says sunsets aren’t pretty in the city?

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So there’s been a lot of hype about Acai in the US lately and although I may fall into the “Granola Snob” category I have not really paid much attention. The other night before we went to the futebol game we stopped by a restaurant called Acai for dinner.  Naturally we proceeded to eat huge bowls (over 1 pound) of this frozen wonder-fruit (with granola) as our final meal of the day.  Neither Marcelo nor his Mom could tell me what this fruit looks like because apparently it is harvested in the Amazon, sent to the NE for processing, and shipped to this part of the country as a frozen pulp. So it was basically like eating ice cream for dinner (except healthy)!

It seems that there would not be much better than that, but there is: Avocado puree.  I could eat this every day (possibly several times) if allowed. Put avocado (the size of your head) in a blender with some ice cubes, add a little sugar and lime juice, and wahla–

Clearly, eating has remained in the forefront of our daily activities. We must have tried a dozen different fruit juices by now, most of them, many of them of fruits that can’t be named in English (caja‘, cupuassu‘, and the delicious graviola). We also indulged in a deep-fried breakfast the other day at a street market near Marcelo’s parents’ apartment, eating pastel (we actually had 3 pasteis to be accurate), basically thin dough pockets larger than your hands, lightly stuffed with pretty much whatever you’d like (we have cheese, “pizza” – tomato, cheese, and oregano – and palmito, or palm tree stalk, which is amazing in its every incarnation), accompanied with fresh sugar cane juice (caldo de cana).

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The other day my dad told us about a scientific study that indicated the existence of a gene that explains why some people are repulsed by… cilantro. Apparently, if you have this gene and your food has cilantro, you will think somebody seasoned your dinner with soap (at least that has been his experience).

Luckily, I did not inherit such gene, which allowed me to sample some delicious, cilantro-heavy comida nordestina (Northeastern Brazilian Food). A deep cast-iron pan full of rice, beans, cheese, and pork topped with cilantro, plus a side of super tasty manioc fries and another of carne-de-sol, red meat that was salted and sundried in order to withstand lack of refrigeration; it ends up as little cubes of tough, salty meat that is surprisingly tasteful (though it has the texture of overcooked meat, it actually retained all its flavor during the drying process). There were also pieces of torresmo, which as I understand it are cubes of deep-fried fat on the hard side of crunchy, and are as delicious as they are terrible for your health. My mom explained that the food is purposedly heavy, as the Brazilian Northeast has long struggled economically and people often have a single meal per day. The result is that we stumbled out of the restaurant feeling rather close to drunk, making a nap all but inevitable. Zzz

My aunt took us a nice French eatery, with much more delicate fare:

Last but not least, we made it to a soccer game! SPFC (Sao Paulo Futebol Clube) debuted on Copa Libertadores da America (basically the continental equivalent of the UEFA Champions’ League) against Monterrey of Mexico. Norika deemed game as somewhat anticlimactic, as SPFC did not play particularly well but scored early on, making the game a bit too bureaucratic for her taste. They did score another goal on the second half, but I don’t think she enjoyed getting her foot stepped on by a tall excited fan to her left. You see, soccer fans can hardly control themselves. Though it was far from a thriller, I was happy that goals were scored and that they won. I’ve been trying to upload a short video of SPFC’s goalie Rogerio Ceni, a living legend who has played as a starter for them since I was about 12, and who holds the world record for most goals scored by a goalie (I think his current total is 86, by free kicks and some penalty kicks). Naturally, I am currently failing, so for now here’s a picture of us with my friend Christian:

I have no idea how to do this blog thing. I think it’s gonna take a while for either of us to get used to telling stories that are neither boring nor too revealing (my Brazilian friends don’t know about the blog yet, but in the event that they do develop an interest once I tell them about it, I better not say too much).
We might as well go ahead and admit that we’re not expert picture takers, both in terms of quality AND quantity. We’ll try to get better, I suppose.

Things we learned so far:

1) It is possible, yet not recommended, to make guacamole with rock-hard avocados. You may very well break wooden utensils in the process. Try mincing instead, and mix it with sour cream for an illusion of creaminess.

2) Mexico thinks Brazilians without visas are 2nd-class citizens. Instead of spending our 5-hour layover in Mexico City searching for authentic (albeit airport-y) Mexican food, my passport was taken away by Mexicana airlines employees and I was escorted to a room featuring: other 2nd-class citizens; bathrooms that did not encourage handwashing; bored airport security officers who played bootlegged DVDs on a large flat-screen TV (if you ever have a chance to watch “Amor y Frijoles”, do pass on it); and a nice, artsy mural that covered the walls, supposedly to give me and the other fellow non-American, -European foreigners a taste of Mexico without giving us the chance of leaving our holding tank.

3) If you can, go to the dentist more often than every couple of years (or not at all). On our second day in Brazil, I spent – no joke – 5 hours on a dentist chair playing catch up with my mouth. Sore back and numb mouth, we proceeded to a posh movie theater with equally uncomfortable chairs to watch “Avatar”. By the way;

4) “Avatar” was awesome. I know that’s probably old news to a good chunk of the world’s population, but we rest our case.

5) Don’t leave your sliding door open when it’s bound to storm.

6) Showers are tricky. It’s been 90-plus degrees in Sao Paulo since our arrival, and there’s been tropical torrential downpours every afternoon (last January was the rainiest month EVER in Sao Paulo, and many parts of the city have been almost perpetually flooded over the past 60 days). The humidity and oppressive heat have made showering more essential than ever. Tired as we were after 24 hours of traveling, we somehow missed the memo on the shower procedures around here (though my parents warned us that there is still a lot of work to be done before their new apartment is actually “finished”, that was not very apparent: the guest room they made available for us is way nicer than they had previously made it out to be! It is possible that they overlooked other parts of the house, as indicated by missing door handles, light fixtures, etc., but really, the apartment is awesome and we are very happy to be in a nice part of this huge city).
Here’s how it went: Marcelo turned on the water in the shower (there are four knobs so it is somewhat unclear which ones are the right ones in the first place); Norika, standing outside the shower, noticed water pouring from the broom closet. Upon further inspection it appeared that there was an open pipe hanging from the ceiling that seemed to have more water coming from it than the actual shower head. This would have been a good time to ask Marcelo’s parents what we were doing wrong, but instead we decided to take a quick shower and hope that the waterfall coming from the broom closet was not enough to actually flood the bathroom (there is a drain in the floor). Come to find out, the hot water in the apartment is not yet connected to the fixtures (hence the hanging pipe in the broom closet) and turning the “Q” knob only sends water into the broom closet and then onto the bathroom floor. Oops. So far this is the closest we’ve come to a “Meet the Parents” moment. Could have been much worse!

Other than that, we’ve been eating a lot. As expected, we’re averaging 4 to 5 meals a day, including tons of fruit, juices, sweets, and so on.

Oh, and Norika will soon be fluent in Portuguese 😉