Tchau Brazil!!!

Here we are, sailing the ocean blue. Today, as I sat in my Student Life Meeting enjoying the fact that I am no longer sea sick, but agonizing over my newly acquired head cold, I looked out over the water to the horizon. The water out here is really beautiful. It’s an amazing shade of blue. It looks like blue tempera paint. You know, the kind you used back in Kindergarten when you fingerpainted with paints that were so bright and rich that they never really existed in nature. Remember? That’s what the ocean looks like out here. We are about 300 miles out of South America and we saw a small patch of land called “I. Martin Vaz.” It looked like a strange outcrop of rocks rising out of the water in the middle of nowhere. It was desolate and devoid of any signs of life. But it’s the only land we’re going to be seeing for awhile. It’s our second day back on the ship since leaving Brazil and I am still processing my time there. We had our Cultural and Logistal Pre-port briefings in anticipation of our time in Brazil, and I learned a great deal about this huge mysterious country. Specifically, I learned all about the area of Salvador de Bahia. Salvador is in the northern part of Brazil, and the metro area is the 3rd largest in Brazil. It is the heart of Afro-Brazilian culture. Brazil has major issues and racial tensions in their population. This played out in many different ways during the trip. We learned that, much like in the US, people are treated better when they have lighter skin. Additionally, there is more wealth associated with the lighter-skinned parts of the country. Many Afro-Brazilians came to Salvador from the areas of the interior to look for work, and have subsequently ended up creating huge favelas through out the city. These favelas are similar to slums, but the majority of the population lives there. Also, Salvador, being so African influenced, has a unique blending of religions. This mixture is called Candomblé. It mixes traditional Catholicism (Brazil has the greatest Catholic population of any nation) with traditional African religions. The result is churches with many different folk traditions, and prayers/holidays built around many different deities called Orixás. The area around Salvador is also pretty economically depressed, again in part to the high African population, and other industry factors. We learned about the music of Brazil and Carnival, and about all the foods and traditions. But, the most important thing we learned was how dangerous this port was going to be. To listen to the pre-port briefings, you’d think that a good 50% of our population was destined to be maimed, robbed, and possibly killed. I think the desired effect was to scare the students so they wouldn’t spend their entire time getting drunk and making victims of themselves. It worked to some extent. Hell, it scared me. However, I made it through unscathed. I woke early the morning we pulled into Salvador in order to get a good view of the city as we pulled into port. The city had a hazy cloud cover that made it seem shrouded in mystery. The bay is very large, so it seemed that there was land all around us. As we pulled into the dock area we could hear loud music and voices cheering in the distance. A bunch of us realized that it was Carnival revelers still partying at 6am from the night before. It turned out to be an accurate a preview of the days to come. We pulled into the port, which seemed very industrial. But we later learned that the main part of the city was not far from the docks. Salvador is a divided city. There is the Cidada Alta up on a hill above the waterfront, and the Cidada Baixa which fronts the water and then descends down to the other side of the bay. In order to travel from the Cidada Baixa to the Cidada Alta one must take a huge elevator called the Lacerda Elevador. The elevator was free during Carnival (lucky us) but is usually 5 centavos per trip. As we pulled into the port we could see the Lacerda Elevator in the distance taking people to the upper area of the city. Immigration came on board and we had to again march every person on the ship through the process of a face-to-face meeting with the immigration officials. Evidently the US has made it very difficult for Brazilian citizens to receive visas and to travel to the US. As a result, Brazilian officials have done the same in return and take extra care to scrutinize all American travelers. This is not the case for any other nationalities visiting Brazil. Interesting, huh? I guess turnabout is fair play. At any rate, we learned our lessons from Puerto Rico and the process went quickly and smoothly. Then we had our Diplomatic Briefing by a woman from the US Embassy in Salvador. The woman’s name was Heather, and she proceeded to give us the worst presentation EVER. First she interrogated the shipboard community to find out what we knew about the issues Salvador and Brazil faced, and then if we could list the resources and relative successes of the country. I think she must have fancied herself a professor in front of her pupils, but it was awful. Thankfully our Academic Dean, Mike Maniates (an awesome guy) interceded on our collective behalves. Next, Heather went on to scare everyone by telling us how dangerous things were in Salvador and Rio during Carnival. That as white people (mostly) we would stick out as victims, and we should be prepared to deal with the criminal element. She finished this lovely presentation by relating a story about a recent event in Rio. Evidently, things are so dangerous in the Brazilian cities, that the traffic laws do not require people to stop their cars at the traffic lights. Well, when this woman stopped at the light b/c the car in front of her was stopped, she was carjacked by a group of men. She and her daughter got out of the car, but her 5 year old son did not make it fully out of the car, and was evidently dragged 7 miles by his leg caught in the seatbelt. The carjackers never bothered to stop even though cars and observers tried to alert them. The 5 year old died, and it caused a big national stir discussing crime in Brazil. Yes, this is the uplifting story that dear Heather decided to relate to us as a welcoming message to Brazil. Oh boy… not a good sign. Eventually, we cleared the ship, and slowly everyone disembarked. This process took forever b/c the gangway was on the 5th deck, which meant everyone had to walk down the loooong rickety staircase to get to the dock. I was one of the last to make it off the ship with Dan, and Tom (fellow RDs) and Emily, Tom’s partner, Joe the video guy, JP the AV guy and his wife Shannon. As we descended the gangway we were greeted by an Afro-Brazilian steel drum band serenading us, and 4 Bahian women dressed in native costume welcoming us and tying Lembraça to our wrists. There is a church in Salvador called Igreja do Nosso Senhor do Bonfim, which is beautiful and ornate and unique for all the Candomblé influences. Also, there are wax body parts hanging in one of the rooms of the churche for all the miracles performed to heal people there. It was surreal indeed. Anyways, the church creates and gives away colorful ribbons that say “Lembraça do Senhor Do Bonfim” in large block letters. Legend has it that you tie the ribbon around your wrist with three knots. With each knot, you make a wish. Leave the ribbon on your wrist, and once it falls off, the wish will come true. So as I stepped off the ship, I had my lembraça tied by a lovely Bahian woman, and made my wishes. The people in Salvador de Bahia call themselves Bahians (pronounced Ba-ee-an… no “h”). In fact, the whole area is really referred to as Bahia, and rarely Salvador.


Next we all walked from the port area to the Modelo Mercado, the big market close to the Lacerda Elevator. It seemed like a giant tourist trap (which it was) but was once the main market for the city. We shopped around a bit, and I honed my tactic or pretending to look disinterested and ignore people talking directly to me. It goes against my nature b/c I try to make a point of acknowledging everyone I encountered, especially those people generally ignored by those around them. However, I am learning to put on a “New Jersey attitude” as my colleague Tom calls it. I do know that the word I used more than any other during my walks through Salvador was “não” which means no. It felt weird to say, b/c it is pronounced like a nasally “now.” So while I was declining people’s offers to sample their wares, I felt like I was really telling them I wanted them to hurry up. Most peculiar. After shopping, we all grabbed lunch at a restaurant nearby. It was clearly a place for locals, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. The place was called Restaurante de Maria do São Pedro. Long name, huh? We settled in and enjoyed the lazy Brazilian afternoon. We didn’t have much of a choice b/c Brazilians move very slowly, and lunch took forever. Dan and I agreed to share a dish, and felt adventurous so we ordered a “specialty” without any idea what it was going to be. But the “Segreda de Maria” turned out to be pretty good. It was black eyed beans cooked with chicken and spices in palm oil. Everything in northern Brazil is cooked in palm oil, called Dende. The odd thing about it, is that eating enough dende oil can kill you pretty quick, yet they’ve been doing it forever. I figured “when in Brazil…” The ship’s doctor recommended popping two Peptos before every in-port meal from Brazil through Vietnam in order to avoid traveler’s diarrhea. I’m glad I did, b/c Dan did not, and he paid for it later. At any rate, the Segreda was good. It came with a dish that had little yellow piles of what looked like cornmeal. I tried a little and discovered it was manioc flour, which is a BIG ingredient in most northern Brazilian cuisine. It has a distinct smell to it, but the texture is like sand in your mouth, and not too tasty. I know I’m painting a great picture. I added a little to the Segreda to be adventurous. We were also given a typical side dish called Vatapá, which is manioc flour cooked with fish water and spices, and some vegetables. It looked like baby puke, but I enjoyed it until I learned what all the ingredients were.

After lunch, most of the folks went back to the ship in order to get ready for some field programs, but Dan and I headed over to the Lacerda Elevator for a trip to the upper city. We were told that the only way to travel to the upper city was by taxi, or the Lacerda Elevator. There were many footpaths to take, and several sets of stairs, but we were told that under NO circumstances should we ever, EVER venture up the stairs… day or night. With a warning like that, you better believe I avoided the stairs. The main part of the upper city is the Pelourinho (or the Pelo for short). The Pelo is where all the old parts of the city are, and the main cultural heart of Salvador. Pelourinho means “Whipping Post” and signifies the square where enslaved Africans were tortured and sold. Gives you that warm toasty feeling inside, huh? Anyways, during Carnival the city is decorated with banners and ribbons, and all sorts of colorful signs and bunting. It is also overrun with garbage and urine and filth. It was a strange combination. The architecture was Colonial and colorful, and quite nice with cobble stone streets that crisscrossed up and down hills in a strange manner I didn’t quite understand. There were large representations of Afro-Brazilian women in native dress and banners cheering on the revelers of Carnival. My favorite was huge metal pinwheels high in the air that had images of these women spinning in the breeze in a carefree way. The feeling was celebratory, and reminded me of New Orleans (pre-Katrina) during Mardi Gras… both festive and fun, but also slightly trashy and dirty. In the main square, we found a band of kids in a drum corp marching through the streets. They were cute, and having so much fun. I snapped a couple pictures. From what I gathered, the kids can perform in the afternoons as a warm-up to the main event in the evening.

Being the early afternoon, the day was just getting started. People were beginning to fill the Pelo in anticipation of another night of Carnival. As we walked around, Dan and I saw groups of men dressed in drag. Each group was dressed in a different theme. A group of babydoll men, a group of girl scout men, a group of sailor girl men, a big group of men all wearing pink fishnet body stockings with small black tutus and bowties and shiny gold wigs. My favorites were the men dressed as what looked like Bat Girl. It turned out that these men were actually police offices dressed up for Carnival. The men would pose and preen when you took their picture and were having a grand old time. Everyone nearby would respond to them with glee, and assure visitors that they were indeed straight, but that the drag was just a part of Carnival. (A strange, but fun part if you ask me). I got some great pics for my post-trip slide show. While Dan spent some time calling his girlfriend, I sat in the main square and watched a group of men do Capoeira. Capoeira is a native sport in Brazil. African slaves were brought to Brazil by the Portuguese (more Africans were enslaved in Brazil, than in any other part of the world). Capoeira is practiced as a dance-fight-game that looks intense and beautiful at the same time. It was suppressed for a long time b/c it it created a sense of unity for the African community in Brazil, and b/c it created skilled fighters within the enslaved population. In effect, Capoeira was a martial art that was disguised as a dance that could be practiced unbeknownst to the white slave owners. It is really fascinating to watch, and clearly athletic since I didn’t see one person doing Capoeira with more than 2% body fat. Sheesh! While waiting for Dan, I also felt adventurous enough to sample some street food called Acarajé which is essentially pork and vegetables inside a manioc flour shell and then fried in Dende oil (yea, the poisonous stuff, go figure). It was tasty, but one was definitely enough. Luckily, most of the things sold on the streets were pretty cheap. Brazil currency is called the Real, or Reais when plural. Each Real are divided into 100 Centavos. The exchange rate right now is about 2 Real for each US Dollar. So we made out pretty good there. Dan and I walked around and got a lot of pictures, and enjoyed all the sights and sounds of Carnival. There is tremendous energy in the city. Everything felt like it was in anticipation of a huge debaucherous party.

We took a quick break and wandered into the other main church in the Pelo called the Igreja São Francisco which has many interesting depictions of Christ in all sorts of agony. Every crucifix, or statue of saints were covered in painted blood, or had intestines spilling out, or huge spikes thrust into them. It was pretty gruesome. It was very different from the peaceful serene depictions of Christ and saints I’m used to seeing in more Western churches. After looking around the church, Dan and I took a few wrong turns and ended up in the lower city on a back street. It wasn’t quite the “bad neighborhood” but it clearly was not the touristy area. The backstreet no longer had touristy souveniers to pick out and haggle over, but sold normal clothes and other amenities. Most of the shops were closing up in anticipation of the evening Carnival festivities, when most of the city would wake up, shake off their hangovers, and begin to party anew. During Carnival, almost all businesses close. This includes banks, post offices, and most stores. But the touristy places do a brisk business. Eventually, Dan and I found our way back to the Pelo, and then down the giant Lacerda Elevator to the ship.

While I didn’t necessarily feel victimized in Salvador, I also did not really feel 100% safe either. I definitely was glad I was not alone. Since it was daylight, I brought my camera with me, but if I wasn’t taking a picture, then it was in my pocket with my hand wrapped around it. I later heard stories of students who did become victims. A group of women were held up at knife point, one young man was hit over the head and robbed when he ventured into an alley to take a leak, and one other student, Hunter, was surrounded by a group of kids who fished all his belongings out of his pockets, and even stole the t-shirt off his back. The most ironic part is that the T-shirt said “Peace” across the front.

My next stop was a dip in the ship pool. I’ve decided that any chance I get to pop into the pool without a throng of students floating about I’m gonna take. I chit-chatted with a few of them and learned of their plans to go experience Carnival. Some had purchased special t-shirts to be a part of a camarote. In Salvador there are large parades called Blocos, and they party down the street. On the sides of the street different groups create large grandstands, called camarotes, and have private parties to watch the parades go by. You have to pay admission to the grandstand and there is usually free booze and whatnot there. Also, the camarotes are the only safe places to view the bloco parades. The entry ticket is a special carnival tshirt to identify you as “in.” The students were proudly displaying their shirts and the outlandish outfits they planned to wear when they went out for the night. A few of the male students planned to wear just Speedos and sneakers. They were going with the “when in Brazil” mentality. I left them and got dressed to go to dinner with some of the RDs and other staff members. On my way back to my cabin I passed my friend Dia, the Registrar and fellow UVA alum, who was taking a group of students to be a part of a Trio Electrico. The trios are the largest of the Salvador Carnival bloco parades. They involve HUGE groups of revelers (all wearing their t-shirt tickets) following enormous trucks with huge speakers playing loud Carnival music. They are called trio electricos b/c the first one was a pick-up truck driving down the street with two men playing electric guitars. Two guys with guitars? Why is it called a trio? (you might ask). Well, the third guy was the driver. Ha! Anyways, I knew they were going to have a great time and regretted not applying for that trip. So I met up with the RDs and we stopped off in Purser’s Square to get some advice on where to go to dinner, and I found a bunch of the students dressed in the same bright orange t-shirts for the trio electrico. It turns out that one of the students had independently arranged for a group to join the trio as well. They had one last t-shirt/ticket and were very persuasive. After making apologies, and literally running to my cabin to change clothes and grab some cash to pay for the t-shirt (it was $150!!!) I jumped in a cab with the students and we headed to the trio. The cab ride took us through the favelas in Salvador to the other side of the city. The other side of the bay has all sorts of expensive hotels and apartment buildings and clubs, bars, restaurants, etc. all fronting on a nice beach. It was a surprise to see after the old style Pelourinho and the favelas. We found the Trio Electrico Jammill and joined the parade. Each night of Carnival a different trio electrico would parade down the Circuito Dodô, and we were told that the Trio Electrico Jammill was the biggest and best, and I believe that to be true. Only the best for me, right? He he… At any rate, I was completely unprepared for what I had joined. While many students had purchased t-shirts for the camarotes to watch the parade, I found myself IN the parade. People had come from all over to watch us dance our way down the street. It was a wild event, and I couldn’t believe I ended up in the middle of it. Picture 4,000 people all wearing the same neon orange tank top squeezed into a small New York City block, dancing to amazingly loud samba music. Now add a lot of alcohol and a sexually charged environment. That’s where I was. Part of the deal is a huge rope that surrounds the entire trio electrico and keeps out the people who haven’t paid. The result is that inside the rope it is very safe, and festive. All around me people were laughing and dancing and kissing, and having the time of their lives. Me included (except the kissing part). Outside the rope were the camarotes high above the street enjoying the slow moving parade and singing along, or throwing little commercial items into the crowd (like Burger King hankerchiefs or cellphone company stress balls). There were banners advertising beers and colas, and gym memberships. It was all surprisingly commercial. All throughout the crowd were venders selling Skol brand beer (the official sponsor of the Trio Electrico Jammill) and water and yummy Guaraná juice. Just outside the rope of the trio, and below the camarotes were throngs of people who just came to watch without paying. The entire night was a study in Brazilian race relations, because inside the trio ropes everyone was very light-skinned or white. The same was true for the people in the grandstand camarotes, but all of the faces in the crowds just outside the ropes were black. It was quite clear who were the haves and the have-nots.

Hours passed as we danced. People bought beers and they showered the crowd with them, and the heavens opened up and it rained down on us which just added to the whole party environment. For any of you who have seen the Matrix trilogy, it was just like the big tribal dance that happens in Zion in the third movie. At one point it occurred to me that I was dancing in the rain surrounded by electrical cables. Water and electricity are not always the best of friends, but I let that thought go with the pulsing music. And that music was amazing. All the Brazilians around us knew all the words, and the hand motions, and the dances that went with them. Every couple hours or so, some of the songs would repeat and we started to learn the words and totally began to feel like we belonged. It was mind-blowing. We danced and walked and sambaed from 8pm until 2am, and then I was done. A few other folks were ready to head back, and we pushed through the crowds to find a cab. I figured the parade was almost done, but I later came to find out that we left around the halfway mark. Oy vey! When we left, I bought some unidentified meat grilling on a stick and other things b/c I hadn’t eaten dinner (you better believe I had some Pepto first). Then we searched for a cab. We looked for 30 mins but they all seemed to be full. They we saw a cab in front of us with a couple people talking to the driver from outside. They didn’t get in and the cab drove on to where we were. We approached and gave him the address. The driver agreed to take us and we got into the cab to discuss a price. I was sitting next to the driver talking to him when suddenly a hand reached into the cab and grabbed the driver by the shirt and attempted to pull him out of the window. Suddenly the entire cab was surrounded by Brazilians all shouting at the driver and trying to tear him limb from limb. I ushered the students out of the car and off to the side of the road. Other cabs stopped and their drivers entered the fray. From what I could understand from their Portuguese, they were pissed off b/c the taxi driver didn’t take them, and instead drove on in order to pick up the touristy white American kids. We had unwittingly stepped in the middle of Brazilian race relations once again. They were very upset and ranted about taking the first person who comes to them. It reminded me a lot of news articles I’ve read about blacks in the United States not being able to get cabs in urban areas. I felt horribly guilty in that moment. The cab driver essentially said he had the right to take whoever he wanted. In the end the cab drivers there ushered us back into the cab and we drove quickly away from the entire situation. It was quite sobering… especially after 6 hours of dancing and very little sleep. I was glad to take a hot shower and get into my bed on the ship.

The next morning I met up with some of my staff friends and we joined the S@S trip called Bahia North Coast. The bus took us about 90 minutes north of Bahia to a brand new Natural Preserve. We saw exotic birds and white tufted marmacets (think little tiny monkeys with hairy white cheeks). Our guide Gisela (pronounced Geese-Uh-Luh) talked nonstop about our surroundings, and showed us a dreadful slide show. We were also taken to a “museum” filled with dead animals that had been stuffed for our viewing pleasure. I swear that every single story the woman told all day long was about death. We learned that Salvador is where older penguins come to die. It’s sort of the Boca Raton of the penguin world. We learned that the largest rodents in the world are called capivaras and they resemble R.O.U.S’s from the Princess Bride. We learned that Gisela has had many pets… each of whom died horrific deaths. She was incredibly morbid, and I had a very difficult time stifling a laugh every time she told a story. Ok, I’ll be honest. I didn’t even try. I laughed openly, and I am not sure she understood why. After our strange “Death Camp come Nature Preserve” experience we went to a small resort town called Guarajuba for what we were told would be “a delicious seafood luncheon.” Well, the resort wasn’t expecting us, and was not pleased we were there. We were told to swim for awhile while they prepared something. The beach was magnificent, with white sand, cool water, and huge waves. The lunch was not so magnificent. They didn’t serve us anything until 3pm, and what we got was fish stew full of bones, nasty Vatapá, and white rice. And what’s more, they didn’t even provide enough for each person to get a full portion. We were expected to share one dish for three people. Also, as we boarded the bus, Gisela had to come and collect extra money from all of us to pay for the drinks we had consumed waiting for the food. But, even though things didn’t really go as planned, I still had a good time. I’m trying to be as flexible as possible, and trying to see the bright side of things. Not so hard to do when traveling around the world (at 20 miles an hour).

After getting back to Salvador, I went to dinner with RD’s Dan, Melanie, and Tom, and Tom’s partner Emily. We took a cab to the Pelo which was now PACKED with people. We found a cool restaurant and ate some great food and watched Carnival happen all around us. In the Pelo, we saw people walking on stilts with huge paper machier (sp?) heads wandering about, and there were roving bands of musicians playing samba music with horns and drums. All of the roving bands wear fedoras and striped shirts. The only difference is the color of the stripes and the color of the band on their hats. I don’t know the origin of the outfit, but it was essentially the uniform of the groups. Each band of musicians had a small following that dance around them. After dinner we followed different groups around the main square. We’d leave one and join another when we got tired, dancing the whole way. People nearby were spraying “Axé Brasil” canisters, which are full of a foamy substance that looks somewhat like confetti, and smells like jasmine. The whole experience was intoxicating. Everything smelled like manioc and jasmine (and still a liiiitle like urine). We saw groups of older women dressed in huge native costumes that had been made out of foil coffee packages, or beer packages, or potato chip bags. They were so ornate, and these tiny little women were enjoying themselves so much. Again, the significance of the outfits was lost on me. I am sure they were not meant to advertise the brands, but they were very interesting. They paraded around a dias where a “king and queen” for each group was introduced and danced around in similar brand, but more ornate outfits. We saw a group of topless dancers who were painted completely silver. Two men and a woman that were 100% silver and shiny and dancing their booties off. All you could see was their smiles full of teeth gleaming through the silver paint. I bought a coconut and watched as it was hacked open in front of me and drank right from the hole. It was a unique experience, and I’m glad I got pictures since I don’t feel the need to repeat it. At any rate, we made our way back down the Lacerda Elevator and to the ship at a decent hour since we all had trips planned for the next day, me included as Rio was calling me!

I can’t believe how long this blog entry is, and I haven’t even gotten to my time in Rio. If you’ve stuck it out this far, then you are a good friend indeed. Kudos to you. And now, on to Rio.

So I made my way to the Union on the ship at 5am after sleeping not at all. I met most of the students for my trip and we prepared to set off. After waiting around for 20 minutes, we were still missing 3 of our students, but had to leave. Two caught us as we loaded the bus. They wanted me to wait so they could go grab a few more things since they hadn’t really packed very well. I believe my response was something like “37 people managed to pack and show up on time, and I’m not going to make them wait. If you get off the bus, I’m going to leave.” One of the lovely ladies then asked me why I had to be “such a cold bitch.” Ah… college students know just what to say to refresh me at 5:45am. Our final student never showed up. That meant she paid $1300 (non-refundable) and threw it in the toilet. How sweet, huh? We got to the airport and flew to Rio without much concern, and were met by our guide Eugenio. He loaded us onto an air conditioned bus and we drove through Rio de Janeiro. Now I must stop here and tell you that I have come to an important conclusion about the evolution of man. In our entire existence, we have invented many things. Fire, electricity, Cool Ranch Doritos, the internet, etc. None of these are as great as the invention of Air Conditioning. I thank God every day for this great gift. Anyways, as we drove through Rio, I learned that the name of the city is a big farce. Rio de Janeiro means “River of January” in Portuguese. Why would they call it that? Well, the Portuguese “discovered” the area on the first of January many many years ago. When they entered their “discovery” into their ship log, it was January 1. Also, they mistakenly though that this huge bay was really a river. Wrong they were, but the name stuck. People from the city refer to themselves as Cariocas. I choose to think this is in defiance to the crappy name some Portuguese dork gave them eons ago. My first impression of Rio was that it looked so clean and nice. Eugenio pointed out many of the favelas to us, and explained that most of the people in Rio live in the favelas. They have electricity, and water, and postal service, and all sorts of amenities. But they are far from perfect. His descriptions of people who have normal everyday jobs but live in the favelas really normalized them for me and the students.

We drove past the giant practice areas for the samba schools who were gearing up for the second night of competition in the Sambadromo (more on that later). Our first stop was at Pão de Açucar, also known as Sugarloaf Mountain. All around Rio, and through the bay area are huge rounded granite mountains that rise up from the earth. The city has grown in and around them. The mountains are covered in lush greenery, and it all feels very tropical. It doesn’t hurt that it’s summer here in South America. We all loaded up on two sets of cable cars to the top of the mountain and were rewarded with amazing views of Rio. I’ve read before that the three most beautiful water cities in the world are San Francisco, Sydney, and Rio de Janeiro, and not having seen Sydney, I’m willing to believe that without question. I am not certain how to describe this cosmopolitan, cultured, vibrant city. The beaches are gorgeous (as are the Brazilians on them), the landscape is dramatic and breathtaking, and the bay is spectacular. I snapped many a photo from up there. I can’t wait to share them. After leaving Sugarloaf, we were treated to lunch at a Churrascaria called Mariu’s. Brazilian churrascos are restaurants where they serve BBQ meats, and they are carved right onto your plate. I have no idea what they do to make the meat taste so good, but I have never, ever, ever, in my whole life tasted meat that was so flavorful. We ate filet mignon, top round, ribs, ribeye, chicken, pork, sausages, frog legs, seafood, sushi, carpaccio, crab legs, and then more from an array of other Brazilian delicacies. Mariu’s was an interesting place. It definitely felt like an upscale beachfront restaurant w/ haute Brazilian cuisine, but there were flower petals and peanut shells all over the floor, and the strangest collection of street signs, vintage alcohol posters and religious iconography on the walls. And in the bathroom, there were long dripping candles everywhere and the floor was covered with pebbles and beach glass. In fact, the sink was full of them as well, and the urinals were full of beach glass and ice. I’ve never peed in a more interesting place. I thought about snapping a picture, but then decided that might not go over well with the other folks using the bathroom. See, I can use my noggin every now and then.

(Time note. This blog is taking forever to write and it’s now 3 days later and I am quarantined in my cabin b/c I have the first CDC reportable case of diarrhea& flu for the voyage. Aren’t I a lucky dog! But I am going to try to use the time to catch up on my blogging).

After our superb luncheon we checked into our hotel. The Rio Othon Palace Copacabana is a 5 star hotel, and it’s right on Avenieda Atlántica (the beach). We were originally supposed to stay in a 3 star hotel, but a glitch with the travel company bumped us up. No complaints here. The hotel was nice, though surely not a 5 star by American standards. Because of our delinquent traveler who missed the flight we had an extra space, and when the rooms got reshuffled, I’ll be damned if I didn’t end up with my own room. Now just HOW did that happen??? =) So there I was, sitting on my 22nd floor balcony overlooking Copacabana Beach and Avenieda Atlántica during Carnival. I soaked up that atmosphere for about 30 minutes, watching the small blocos dancing down the beach, and the flea market along the street and the beachgoers. A word about the people of Rio. They are (and I don’t want to understate this) F***ING GORGEOUS. As a culture they are very health conscious, and I saw gyms everywhere. Walking around Rio made me reflect on how heavy Americans really are. I felt like a big ole fatty walking around Brazil. I got an eyeful of Brazilian babes b/c the beach was packed with people. I took a quick nap before meeting Eugenio and the students for our night at the Sambadromo. The evening began with a bad taste in my mouth b/c our guide asked around and sold 22 of the students tickets to the Sambadromo for about 360 Real (about $125). The problem is, that me and 8 students paid $395 US through S@S. He tried to sell it that our seats were much better and therefore worth the price differential. But it was not the case. In the end, I got over it. We all loaded onto public buses and then the subway for our trip to the Sambadromo. The samba schools that compete in the big Carnival competitions are huge community clubs that put on these huge shows. The people in the parades are of all ages and shapes and sizes. While we were on the subway, we watched as people joined our car at each station. Many of them were dressed in huge costumes with in all sorts of bright colors. And they were so proud. That was the best part. For that day, they were all celebrities. I remember one group in particular. It was three men, and a woman. Two of them men were black teens, the other man was in his 30s and the woman was in her 50s. They were in tight lycra suites and had giant pink feather boa type headdresses attached, and they were so proud of their ridiculous garb. I was proud for them. I’m so glad we took the subway, if only for the glimpse into real Rio culture. For the record, Rio’s subway was very clean and modern. Yet another example of why it is such an amazing city. I’m not sure what I expected from the Sambadromo, but I was surprised by the reality. It looks a bit like a NASCAR racetrack. It has a wide lane surrounded by tall grandstands where spectators sit and cheer on their favorite schools. Our tickets had us sitting right in the middle of the long track and across from the judges. We got there at 9pm for the start of the first school. 13 samba schools made it into the big competition time this year. The first six competed on Sunday night, and we were set to see the next 7 perform on Monday. I learned all about the very strict rules of the competition. Each school has only 90 minutes for their presentation and must have the entire parade complete the course in that time. Each school must use between 2500 and 4500 participants in their parades, so as you can imagine they are huge shows. Each procession is judged on percussion, sambo do enredo (the theme song), harmony, song & dance, choreography, costumes, story line, floats, & decorations. The competition is always hotly contested, and the winner is the pride of both Rio & all of Brazil. The parades begin in moderate mayhem and work themselves up to a fevered frenzy. From the distance, the procession looks like a single living organism. It’s a throbbing beast that slowly comes closer – a pulsing, glittering, Japanese-movie-monster, slime-mold threatening to engulf all of Rio in samba. And everyone in the grandstands is singing along with them b/c all the samba schools songs’ and themes’ are flooded on the airwaves the weeks running up to Carnival. Phew! The only good way to describe a samba school presentation is to take the Opening Ceremony for the Olympics, multiply it times 10, and then give it a Superbowl competition feel. And then remember that this happened 7 times all in one night. It was exhausting, but you didn’t want to miss a single moment.

I managed to stay awake for 5 of the 7 schools, and finally had to grab a cab back to the hotel around 5am b/c I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand and dance through the last two. That was sad b/c the last two were supposed to be the best two, and in the end the winner of Carnival this year was Beija Flor, the last school to perform. The themes were varied and diverse. Three of the presentations dealt with African themes. One in support of Mandela and South Africa, one honored the diversity of African culture, and a third about the African influence on Brazilian culture. The other two were very tongue-in-cheek, one dealt with all manners of pictures, and showed pictures coming to life, and phases of people’s life where they take a lot of pictures, and famous people and places that are photographed a lot. It was really unique and inventive. The school was named Unidos da Tijuca and I thought they had a good chance to win. They ended up placing 8th. Shows what I know. Another great one was by Viradouro who used a game/casino theme and turned everything upside down. Their floats were upside down, their costumes were upside down… everything. Another favorite of mine was by the Portela school who did a theme based on Greece. It had a strong Olympic Games under current, but also hit on the Greek Gods and Pan Am Games which will be in Rio during 2007. It was so fun to watch. It seemed to be the crowd favorite, and placed 4th overall. I’ve got some awesome pictures of the costumes and floats. Words can’t describe them more than I have, so I’m not even going to try.

The next morning… well I should say afternoon, since I slept till noon, I walked down the block to a local luncheonette, called Big Nectar, and had myself a smoothie made from açai berries, which only grow in the Amazon and have more cancer fighting doodads than any other fruit. I paired that with a nice Misto Queche, which is like a fluffy grilled ham & cheese sandwich made from cured Brazilian ham and gooey local cheese. It was “muy bom” (very good). After my lunch/snack I climbed into open air jeeps with the students and we drove up up up Corcovado Mountain to visit Cristo Redentor. He’s better known as Christ the Redeemer, and is the mondo statue of Christ that stands watch over and blesses the entire city of Rio. Corcovado means Hunchback, and the mountain does rise like a hunchback over the city. The statue is 38 meters tall (which translate to mega-majorly huge) and has a placid expression on his face. The statue is made of solid concrete and is covered with tiny triangular soapstone tiles to protect it from the elements. The view from atop Corcovado is unparalleled. The left arm of Christ points out to Maracanã, the world’s largest soccer stadium (I had to give a nod to futból since I was in Brazil). I took a ton of photos from up there. Ah, Rio. Such an amazing town.

On our way up and down the mountain we passed more favelas and crowds of children and locals sitting by the road. They would always wave and cheer, and shout friendly welcomes. The friendly nature of people in Rio was so different than what we had experienced in Salvador. Like night and day, really. Once we got back down the mountain we changed into our bloco t-shirts and joined one the bloco for the Clube do Samba. Blocos in Rio are very different than in Salvador. In Rio they are much smaller, community oriented, less exclusive, and not so comercial. They travel along the beach, and people literally come right off the beach and join the parade for awhile. They are local affairs and a lot more spontaneous. The city shuts down a couple of lanes of traffic during Carnival to let them pass on the main thoroughfare, and they intertwine and samba along. Each one repeats its song as it goes, and Cluba do Samba’s song sounded like it was about a woman selling fruit, but truth be told, I’m not sure… but it sure was catchy. Little by little the students all wandered off to find their own parties for the night, and I found myself alone in the bloco, which suited me fine. Eventually, I also wandered back to the hotel and changed into my swimsuit. I walked across the street and swam in the Atlantic on Copacabana Beach. The water was cold, and full of silt, but the waves were nice and big. Since the sun was setting, most people had left for the day, and the air was charged as people prepped for the last night of Carnival. I went up to the rooftop pool and swam a bit more and talked to some of the students. A few of us decided to grab food at a nearby buffet frequented by locals. It was a scaled down version of the churrascaría from the previous day, but cheaper. The place was called Kilograma. The concept is that you load your plate with whatever you want, and then it is weighed. You pay by weight. A nice idea if you ask me. And daaaaamn good eatin’ too. We had a leisurely dinner, and the next thing we knew, it was after midnight. That took us by surprise, because the restaurant was still full of people eating dinner. I dropped the students back at the hotel as they were going to a club in the Leme district w/ friends, and I wandered over to Ipanema. I found the Rua Farme do Amodeo, which is a famous street full of clubs and bars catering to a more liberal crowd. The street was packed full of people. Just as I arrived, everyone suddenly poured down the street towards the water. I followed, and a huge beach party/rave ensued. I walked around and chit-chatted with folks and danced a little, waded in the water a bit. It was fun. Next thing I knew it was 3am. I took a cab back to the hotel and found a bunch of my students in the lobby drunk as skunks. They were trying to find another hotspot at which to continue their party. They must not have had much luck as they decided to prank call my room a few times and knock on my door. It was all in good fun, and luckily they didn’t wake me as I was sitting on my balcony again, watching Carnival rage on the street and beach below, even at 4am!

I awake bright and early at 8:30am and called all the student rooms, and somehow they all managed to show up, and make the bus with their passports in hand. Many of them were hungover, and a couple were still drunk, but they were all present and accounted for. I don’t want to give the impression that they were all drunk and out of hand, b/c many of them were quite responsible, and I enjoyed their company a great deal (well, most of them). We had a nice uneventful flight back to Salvador. I got back to the ship and quickly went out to mail some postcards, grab a bite to eat, and purchase some souveniers. I got myself a wooden statuette of a fist making a gesture called the “fig” which means long life and health in Brazil. I think I bargained a good price for it. I also bought a berimbau, which is a musical instrument that looks a bit like a bow & arrow. I got worked over real good by the salesman. He clearly knew he had a sucker in me. He offered 90 Real as an opening price. I countered with 30 Real. I ended up paying 45 Real. I thought I did Ok. Till I immediately turned around and saw a berimbau I liked a lot more, for 10 Real less. And I later had dinner with a student who bought essentially the same berimbau as me for $5 US, or about 10 Real. Grrrr… I am chalking it up as a lesson learned. It will make me better at bargaining in future ports.

Much like in San Juan the students did a good job of getting back on the ship by on-ship time. The exception were three of my residents. A guy named Jared who is on my Jew Crew, and two roommates who are also both Mexican nationals and both named David. A number of students reported about their whereabouts, and their recent run-ins with the local police, and after 45 minutes we started to be worried if they would make the ship before we left. I was especially worried, b/c I really enjoy Jared and the Davids. In the end they arrived about an hour late b/c they had ordered an expensive dinner and wanted to enjoy it. Trust that they are being sternly dealt with & won’t make the same mistake again. We departed on time at 2300 hours, and began our 8 day voyage across the Atlantic. More on this eventful leg of the journey soon. Much love to all back home.