This was the only town in our travels where we planned ahead and ordered a taxi to pick us up at the airport. A lot of blogs warned against the taxi drivers in the town, so we took heed. It was a long ride from the airport to historical center, about 25 minutes, and as we started to see the architecture change I knew we were close.
Our hotel was only about 2 blocks from the center square, and once again- there were cobblestone roads everywhere. The town had a very colonial feel to it, which was present everywhere in the building and church structures. The Plaza de Armas with the fountain in the surrounding buildings was pretty during the day, but beautiful at night.
We spent the day walking through part of the town. We wandered over to the Municipal market, which was shutting down as we got there. There were several groups bunched outside of the marketplace, and vendors selling their foods. We opted to share a chicken kabob. I couldn't talk myself into the chicken heart, yet. The city was very tourist in the historical center, and several side streets offered craft fairs. One of the biggest attractions in the town were the churches, and they were definitely all unique in their styles.
Before it got dark, we had heard from someone that the bridges were beautiful, so we made our way to the bridges traversing the high way. On the way, under one of the bridges, a rap concert was occurring at a skate park. We didn't stay for too long, but we did cross the bridge and stumbled across a picturesque view of the next bridges, a stream, and the two active volcanoes in the background. After crossing the second bridge we found a huge super market. It gave us the opportunity to stock up on some of the small things we needed, such as chap-stick and need sneakers for me. My sneakers were making this awful squeaking noise, and it was finally driving my dad and me crazy. Fun fact, my foot size is very large for women in Peru, a 10 US size, and I didn't fit into the largest women's shoe size they had- a 40. Thus, I finally gave in and bought a pair of bright red men's sneakers.
As we circled the town to find a place to eat, and I tried to weed through the restaurant peddlers selling their menu, it was actually my dad who found the perfect place. He walked over to me and said that the place had a 2 plated for 20 pesos special. I thought to myself- no way, maybe he didn't understand since he doesn't speak Spanish. Low and behold, the waitress confirmed that there were two pages to the menu and you choose one from each side. We each had a soup, I got a chicken soup and he got veggie cream one, and then for main dishes we got a rice and beef meal. The view was overlooking the center square, which was incredible with the cathedral lit up. A live band joined for a few songs as well.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Colca Canyon- Descent and Ascent
Once again, we crowded into a van before the sun rose and began a hiking journey. This was our only over-night trekking trip of the vacation, so we opted for the interesting option of staying in huts that night and hiking out by headlamp light...but we'll get to that.
Our group was an assortment of English speaking travelers from England, Italy, Holland, Malaysia, the USA, and France. We all didn't talk too much until lunch that day, but they were definitely my favorite group of travelers that I might while traveling for the three weeks.
We reached the Condor Lookout point, and luckily were able to spot 5 condors circling the mountains. Some of the birds actually came pretty close to the platform, which gave a real sense of their grand size. No picture or video that I took could do it justice, but they were beautiful catching the wind on their wings.
You would think that the journey down would be a piece of cake, but the trails were so dusty that every footstep kicking up dust left a parched and dry throat. We arrived to the canyon entrance, prepared ourselves, and all started the switchbacks down. It was about two hours of descent passing by interesting rock-side cliffs and cacti that we finally reached a river and bridge. The river cutting through the canyon was incredibly green. That's also where we started to really see the villages that speckle the canyon. Our guide told us that there are only about 300 people who live among the villages, and their only transportation out of the villages and canyon is walking or paying for a horse ride, and horses only became an option a few years ago.
From there, we did a bit of ascending to get to the house where we had lunch. Even with the heat, lunch is still a customary appetizer. We also enjoyed some alpaca, rice, and avocado (they grow 80 variations of avocado trees in Peru).
The next part of the journey was more filled with close-by spectacles, such as man-made irrigation systems, a pool of water, a horse, and some village houses. By this point, we had reached the other side of the mountain and we were traversing into the bottom of the canyon. Our last marker before our hostel village was a waterfall and another bridge on a different part of the river. The sun was just setting as we exited the trail into our hostel sitting area, which had several huts for groups and pairs, bathroom huts, a restaurant/bar and a pool. We waited eagerly to find out how the sleeping arrangements would be arranged. Our guide asked for all the couples to notify him, and after he had counted off all the people who raised their hands he looked right at my dad and I. This was about the fourth time in the trip that we were confused for a couple, and I again had to clear up the confusion. All of the non-couples were put together in dorm style cabins that fit five people.
We still had about 3 hours to kill before dinner time, and there wasn't much there to do except drink and talk. Some brave souls tried out the pool, but the water was cold to start with and it was cold with the sun set. I opted for a pisco sour (the national drink of Peru) and conversation with our travel buddies. After a few beers, dinner was ready and we all munched down hungrily. Our guide announced that we had a 4:30 am wake up meeting time, so we headed to bed soon after dinner was over.
We packed our things, turned on our headlamps, and started up the trail. The ascent up Colca Canyon was estimated to be three hours of switchbacks, and travelers we met in Machu Picchu told us that it wouldn't be an easy journey up. The first 30 minutes of following our guide's quick pace felt endless. Finally, we took and break and he told us that he would meet us at the top and to go our own pace. I stuck with my dad as we took turns leading. I admit that I felt very jealous every time someone passed by on a horse, but I also felt very proud to be tackling the challenge. It took us about 2.5 hours to reach the summit, and half of our group was up there waiting. We bought some Gatorade and bananas from the vendor woman, and I admit that maybe it wasn't smart to do the climb on an empty stomach. We made it though. My dad and I also agreed that it would be our last big hike of the trip, which it was.
When we collected everyone from the group, we walked to the nearest village and got our traditional bread and tea breakfast from a house cafe nearby. Our next bus ride led us to natural thermal pools, which was a relief on our aching muscles. The water was a lot warmer than I expected, and we enjoyed the pools for an hour. The water was so hot where it entered the pool that we had to move away from it. Afterwards, we once again boarded the bus and this time went to a point where you could see 6 active volcanoes and the Andes Mountains chain. It was windy and cold though, so we boarded the bus quickly again. From there, we only had about 1.5 hours of a drive back to Arequipa.
It was during that drive back to town where my sickness finally really hit me. I remember leaving the bus and not being able to speak clearly and feeling that I ran into a brick wall. We checked back into our hotel, and then tried to find our way back to the supermarket. We got a bit lost. Then I had to try and explain our symptoms and what I wanted... in Spanish. It was more than my sick self could handle at that moment. Eventually though, we headed back to our hotel and passed by a large celebration for Arequipa Day. I couldn't function very well though, so I went to sleep pretty soon after and didn't give much thought to the large celebration.
Our group was an assortment of English speaking travelers from England, Italy, Holland, Malaysia, the USA, and France. We all didn't talk too much until lunch that day, but they were definitely my favorite group of travelers that I might while traveling for the three weeks.
We reached the Condor Lookout point, and luckily were able to spot 5 condors circling the mountains. Some of the birds actually came pretty close to the platform, which gave a real sense of their grand size. No picture or video that I took could do it justice, but they were beautiful catching the wind on their wings.
You would think that the journey down would be a piece of cake, but the trails were so dusty that every footstep kicking up dust left a parched and dry throat. We arrived to the canyon entrance, prepared ourselves, and all started the switchbacks down. It was about two hours of descent passing by interesting rock-side cliffs and cacti that we finally reached a river and bridge. The river cutting through the canyon was incredibly green. That's also where we started to really see the villages that speckle the canyon. Our guide told us that there are only about 300 people who live among the villages, and their only transportation out of the villages and canyon is walking or paying for a horse ride, and horses only became an option a few years ago.
From there, we did a bit of ascending to get to the house where we had lunch. Even with the heat, lunch is still a customary appetizer. We also enjoyed some alpaca, rice, and avocado (they grow 80 variations of avocado trees in Peru).
The next part of the journey was more filled with close-by spectacles, such as man-made irrigation systems, a pool of water, a horse, and some village houses. By this point, we had reached the other side of the mountain and we were traversing into the bottom of the canyon. Our last marker before our hostel village was a waterfall and another bridge on a different part of the river. The sun was just setting as we exited the trail into our hostel sitting area, which had several huts for groups and pairs, bathroom huts, a restaurant/bar and a pool. We waited eagerly to find out how the sleeping arrangements would be arranged. Our guide asked for all the couples to notify him, and after he had counted off all the people who raised their hands he looked right at my dad and I. This was about the fourth time in the trip that we were confused for a couple, and I again had to clear up the confusion. All of the non-couples were put together in dorm style cabins that fit five people.
We still had about 3 hours to kill before dinner time, and there wasn't much there to do except drink and talk. Some brave souls tried out the pool, but the water was cold to start with and it was cold with the sun set. I opted for a pisco sour (the national drink of Peru) and conversation with our travel buddies. After a few beers, dinner was ready and we all munched down hungrily. Our guide announced that we had a 4:30 am wake up meeting time, so we headed to bed soon after dinner was over.
We packed our things, turned on our headlamps, and started up the trail. The ascent up Colca Canyon was estimated to be three hours of switchbacks, and travelers we met in Machu Picchu told us that it wouldn't be an easy journey up. The first 30 minutes of following our guide's quick pace felt endless. Finally, we took and break and he told us that he would meet us at the top and to go our own pace. I stuck with my dad as we took turns leading. I admit that I felt very jealous every time someone passed by on a horse, but I also felt very proud to be tackling the challenge. It took us about 2.5 hours to reach the summit, and half of our group was up there waiting. We bought some Gatorade and bananas from the vendor woman, and I admit that maybe it wasn't smart to do the climb on an empty stomach. We made it though. My dad and I also agreed that it would be our last big hike of the trip, which it was.
When we collected everyone from the group, we walked to the nearest village and got our traditional bread and tea breakfast from a house cafe nearby. Our next bus ride led us to natural thermal pools, which was a relief on our aching muscles. The water was a lot warmer than I expected, and we enjoyed the pools for an hour. The water was so hot where it entered the pool that we had to move away from it. Afterwards, we once again boarded the bus and this time went to a point where you could see 6 active volcanoes and the Andes Mountains chain. It was windy and cold though, so we boarded the bus quickly again. From there, we only had about 1.5 hours of a drive back to Arequipa.
It was during that drive back to town where my sickness finally really hit me. I remember leaving the bus and not being able to speak clearly and feeling that I ran into a brick wall. We checked back into our hotel, and then tried to find our way back to the supermarket. We got a bit lost. Then I had to try and explain our symptoms and what I wanted... in Spanish. It was more than my sick self could handle at that moment. Eventually though, we headed back to our hotel and passed by a large celebration for Arequipa Day. I couldn't function very well though, so I went to sleep pretty soon after and didn't give much thought to the large celebration.
Machu Picchu
This was my dad's one "must see" ticket item for our vacation- Machu Picchu. I think that he watched enough videos in preparation to be the tour guide himself. Thus, we didn't hire a guide, and we went at the adventure solo. We bought tickets for the morning entrance to the park and the Machu Picchu Mountain hike.
One of the easiest ways to get to Aguas Caliente, the town surrounding Machu Picchu, is to take a train. We took a taxi for 100 Peruvian Pesos from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo, and then the train from there. Our taxi driver stopped in a small town on the way and we listened to a teenage girl and her family describe the wool dying and weaving process. Then, onward to Ollantaytambo we went. The town was very small, but had a set of ruins to explore as well. Instead, we went to a panoramic view restaurants, and we were the only family there for an hour. I had an alpaca ravioli, which I liked better than the thick cut of alpaca meat because it was easier to few and eat. We also explored down by the river to the railroad tracks and a small neighboring village. Finally, it was night time and our train arrived.
By time that we arrived in Aguas Caliente it was almost 9 pm. The town was intriguing in the fact that the train tracks ran straight through a majority of the town. We had to asked a local market where our hostel was, and when we got there our hostel person instructed to first go to the bus ticket booth before it closed. He advised that in the mornings, the line for the bus to get to Machu Picchu begins at 4 am and the bus leaves at 5:30 am, but that there would be a long line to buy bus tickets and board the bus. The office to buy bus tickets closed at 9, but they still accepted everyone in line even after that time. We waited about 25 families for our turn, and I'm glad we bought them the night before because he wasn't exaggerating about the line for boarding the bus.
The next morning we got up around 5 am to prepare for the day, and our hostel made us eggs to order, which was a nice surprise. We bundled up, more than we had to unfortunately, and made our way to the 3 block length line for the bus. Although it was a long line, they had multiple buses going at once and he boarded quicker than I expected. The drive was five minutes to the outskirts of town and fifteen minutes of switchbacks up the hills, which led directly to the entrance of the park.
We partially wandered around the park, even though you're supposed to stay on the circuit trail. One of our first turn offs led us to alpacas, whom we took selfies with for a solid thirty minutes. Afterwards, my dad gave us the tour of the ruins, which he knew from all of his youtube research on the ruins. The ruins were by far larger than any we had seen in Peru, during any part of our trip, and it was incredible to think of the city nestled between the mountains and left undiscovered until fairly recently. We circled our way through the park, we were ushered out, and then reentered the park because we had tickets to climb Machu Picchu Mountain. The line waited outside of the trail entrance until our 9 am entrance period, and the clump of people quickly dispersed along the trail as we made the quickly ascent step path. For two hours of so we battled the altitude and climbed our way up. Luckily, there were look out points that we could stop and breath all along the way. That altitude was no joke. It turned what might have been a tiring, but easy, hike into a gasping for air and breaking breaks journey. We made it up and enjoyed the panoramic view for about 30 minutes, and then made our descent. Our second loop through the park wasn't as slow paced, but we still stopped to admire some views.
The line for the bus ride home was longer than the line to get to the park. The line went on for at least a football field, and it felt almost like a sport to find the ending point of the line. That night we took it easy, and after getting dinner in town we called it a night.
One of the easiest ways to get to Aguas Caliente, the town surrounding Machu Picchu, is to take a train. We took a taxi for 100 Peruvian Pesos from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo, and then the train from there. Our taxi driver stopped in a small town on the way and we listened to a teenage girl and her family describe the wool dying and weaving process. Then, onward to Ollantaytambo we went. The town was very small, but had a set of ruins to explore as well. Instead, we went to a panoramic view restaurants, and we were the only family there for an hour. I had an alpaca ravioli, which I liked better than the thick cut of alpaca meat because it was easier to few and eat. We also explored down by the river to the railroad tracks and a small neighboring village. Finally, it was night time and our train arrived.
By time that we arrived in Aguas Caliente it was almost 9 pm. The town was intriguing in the fact that the train tracks ran straight through a majority of the town. We had to asked a local market where our hostel was, and when we got there our hostel person instructed to first go to the bus ticket booth before it closed. He advised that in the mornings, the line for the bus to get to Machu Picchu begins at 4 am and the bus leaves at 5:30 am, but that there would be a long line to buy bus tickets and board the bus. The office to buy bus tickets closed at 9, but they still accepted everyone in line even after that time. We waited about 25 families for our turn, and I'm glad we bought them the night before because he wasn't exaggerating about the line for boarding the bus.
The next morning we got up around 5 am to prepare for the day, and our hostel made us eggs to order, which was a nice surprise. We bundled up, more than we had to unfortunately, and made our way to the 3 block length line for the bus. Although it was a long line, they had multiple buses going at once and he boarded quicker than I expected. The drive was five minutes to the outskirts of town and fifteen minutes of switchbacks up the hills, which led directly to the entrance of the park.
We partially wandered around the park, even though you're supposed to stay on the circuit trail. One of our first turn offs led us to alpacas, whom we took selfies with for a solid thirty minutes. Afterwards, my dad gave us the tour of the ruins, which he knew from all of his youtube research on the ruins. The ruins were by far larger than any we had seen in Peru, during any part of our trip, and it was incredible to think of the city nestled between the mountains and left undiscovered until fairly recently. We circled our way through the park, we were ushered out, and then reentered the park because we had tickets to climb Machu Picchu Mountain. The line waited outside of the trail entrance until our 9 am entrance period, and the clump of people quickly dispersed along the trail as we made the quickly ascent step path. For two hours of so we battled the altitude and climbed our way up. Luckily, there were look out points that we could stop and breath all along the way. That altitude was no joke. It turned what might have been a tiring, but easy, hike into a gasping for air and breaking breaks journey. We made it up and enjoyed the panoramic view for about 30 minutes, and then made our descent. Our second loop through the park wasn't as slow paced, but we still stopped to admire some views.
The line for the bus ride home was longer than the line to get to the park. The line went on for at least a football field, and it felt almost like a sport to find the ending point of the line. That night we took it easy, and after getting dinner in town we called it a night.
Rainbow Mountain
No one warned us that there would be snow. I figured that Peru could get cold in the Winter (the Brazilian relativity for "cold" that is), but I forgot that the altitude was an additional factor. We waited in the alley at 3 am for our guide to pick us up, and we got hopeful every time that a car passed by. Hearing our names finally being asked was one of the biggest reliefs. Except, we booked the excursion through our hostel, and the tour guide only had one name written down. It all worked out. So, we loaded the vans and drove around winding roads to the beginning of our hike. It was a slushy mess, and I only really wiped out hard about three times. When we got to the last twenty minutes of the hike it was a fast elevation change and the hardest part. We had to stop every few minutes to try and suck in wind, which made sense since we were 5,000 meters up and hiking a mountain. We did it though. Just as everyone says, the colors are not as bright in person, BUT- we had snow covered mountains on one side and color streaked mountains on the others. We had made it to one of the lookout points, but there was another to climb yet, which was every stepper. Getting up was the easier part, but coming back down I literally sat down on my bum and inch my way on the icy downhill slope. I had a very cold bum and hands afterwards. The hike back was a bit easier since the sun had dried up some of the mud. Standing at the summit through and looking at the contrasting scenery that surrounded me was astounding. The snowy mountains reminded me of the Swiss Alps, but the dry rocky section reminded me of Arizona.
Exploring Cuzco
Cuzco and it's gravel roads are not what I expected from the city. A low lying, colorful patching of rooftops, and several markets connect the city. We had a mix up of days for scheduling, so instead of horseback riding the first day we explored the city by foot. We walked towards the Municipal Market, tried chicken on a stick (I chickened out of the heart kabob), and got lost as we trekked our way to Cristo Blanco. We finally climbed our way up through a residential area to find the Jesus statue that overlooks the city. That night we had one of my favorite meals of the trip- a sample platter that included alpaca, guinea pig, trout, quinoa, mandioca, and some other miscellaneous foods. Our hostel that night was only $7 each, so you know it wasn't living the high life. It was in the back of the building with no windows, and the smell was so bad that my dad refused to use our shared bathroom, but I wanted to give my dad the true inexpensive hostel "experience".
That night we had one of my favorite meals of the trip. It was on the second floor of shop in the center square, and we had a view overlooking the square cathedral and fountain. We decided to split the sampler platter, which included trout chicharron, quinoa, fried mandioca, alpaca, guinea pig, and an assortment of other side dishes. Watching my dad's reaction as he ate the guinea pig was priceless. It was a small clump on the plate, which we discovered still had the bones and all. It was incredibly salty. We decided never again for guinea pig. Alpaca was also an adventure- it was so tough and hard to eat. I literally had a hard time cutting it to eat, and it almost flew off my plate in desperate attempts to cut it apart.
That night we had one of my favorite meals of the trip. It was on the second floor of shop in the center square, and we had a view overlooking the square cathedral and fountain. We decided to split the sampler platter, which included trout chicharron, quinoa, fried mandioca, alpaca, guinea pig, and an assortment of other side dishes. Watching my dad's reaction as he ate the guinea pig was priceless. It was a small clump on the plate, which we discovered still had the bones and all. It was incredibly salty. We decided never again for guinea pig. Alpaca was also an adventure- it was so tough and hard to eat. I literally had a hard time cutting it to eat, and it almost flew off my plate in desperate attempts to cut it apart.
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Being A Part of A Community
One of the first things that I did when I got to UEL (the University I work at) was to join a Portugues For Foreign Learners class. I met people from all over the world, but mostly from South America. I am currently taking my second Portugues class, and I have met people from: Argentina, Colombia, Peru, Venezuela, Iran, Hungary, Haiti, and Morocco. In addition, I attend the monthly Intercultural Cafe, which has allowed me to reach out to people studying at UEL from even more countries across the world.
One of my classmates, Daniela, asked me to participate in a poem reading for one of the Master's classes. She sculpted a video that highlights the differences and beauty that we all bring to UEL with our languages. In the video, we all read the same people, except in a cascading effect in our language. It was really breathtaking to hear the differences in languages.
From left to right:
Romania- Argentina- Spanish
Brazil- Portugues
Daniela- Venezuela- Spanish
Dominique- Haiti- French
Andrea- Hungary- Hungarian
Me- USA- English
Claire- France- French
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Copa do Mundo- Brasilian Style
I wish that I could describe the love, support, dedication, and excitement that Brasil feels for futebol. It's a breath of fresh air for a girl who played defense her whole life and feel in love with the sport, but lived in a country that it doesn't receive as much love as it deserves. Every game day I get so excited to put on my jersey. Whether we throw a viewing party at an apartment, or head out to a bar, it's always fun to cheer on Brasil. On the days that I've streamed the games online, it's funny because I hear fireworks and the whole town erupt and I know something is coming as my computer lags a minute behind the live television streaming. The commotion that occurs in the bar after winning a match makes you want to jump up and joining in the chanting, which is normally what happens. So far, Brasil tied their first match and won the second two. Tomorrow is a quarter finals game against Belgium, which you bet I'll be watching diligently and spiritedly to cheer them on. VAI BRASIL! Sidenote: the amount of Brasilian memes that get created based on the game is brilliant. Pictures and videos featured the coach tripping and flipping over, Neymar in a baby walker, crazy fans announcing the termination of future revival teams, and so much more. Brasil meme game is very strong.
Patricia, Simba, Pedro, Ashley, and me
Junio and me
Me, Bennie, Lara, and Ashley
Me, Junio, Bia, Henrique, and Lara
Henrique and me
Intercultural Cafe
Every month one of the programs at Universidade Estudual de Londrina is called Intercultural Cafe. This brings together students of different nationalities that are studying on campus and gives us the opportunity to connect and learn from each other. This past month's theme was Festa Junina, which consisted on a small history lesson, a game of Kahoot to test our knowledge, and attempting to dance the qaudrillo. Enjoy our crazy attempt!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0N9ZndwgKc&t=21s
Festa Junina Celebrations
Normally when people think of Brasil they think of the month long party Carnaval, but the underrated little brother to that celebration is Festa Junina. This month long holiday honors three saints, and even spills into July to create Festa Julina. The most authentic experience I could have asked for was at a chakara with 150 people, more food than I could imagine eating, a mechanical bull, and the quadrilo (square dancing in sorts). The traditional wear is to dress as a caipira, farmer, in plaid, dresses, braids, and mustaches. Although I've gone to a few Festa Junina events, this by far was my favorite.
Tackling the Federal Police
Even harder than creating a phone plan account was registering with the Federal Police for my RNE number. On average, we joke that it takes three visits to the Federal Police to get all of the paperwork in and correctly done. Although, it really isn’t a joke. For me, it took three Federal Police visits and one consulate visit.
If you are staying in Brasil for longer than three months then you are required to register with the police and pay a fee. The RNE (Registro Nacional de Estrangeiros- national registration for strangers) requires a passport, the application signed off at the USA embassy, proof of payment, 3x4 photo, a CPF card is helpful but not necessary, photocopies of ALL pages of your passport (I kid you not. Every. Single. One. Whether it does or does not have a stamp on it), and new to the list is- your original birth certificate with an official translation of it or an inscription letter from the US consulate in Brasil. This last part was a new rule put into place as I came to Brasil, and thus I did not know that I had to bring my birth certificate.
The story goes as so- I went online in March to make my appointment for the Londrina Federal Police and the soonest police appointment wasn’t until May 25. I entered Brasil February 23rd, and you generally have to register within three months of entering the country. In a panic, all of us ETAs in Londrina went to the police station together to and plead our case in hopes of a sooner date. No luck. The man told us to return when we had our official appointment dates. We told him that it was crucial for our fellowship and our university placement. To this, he responded by telling us to put our boss from the university on the phone. A surprise to us all, but we had our program manager call, and he pretty much said in exact repetition to her what he said to us.
So, time goes by. It’s now the end of May and I returned to the Federal Police with one of the research Fulbrighters. We went in very hesitantly, only thinking about our last experience. This time though, we worked with the man on the left instead of the right. It made a WORLD of a difference. Santana, our main man who helped us through the process with such kindness and patient, began our process that day by inputting some of our documents into the system. We ran into problems as he asked to see our birth certificate. Tara had her original birth certificate, and I had a believable photocopy of mine. Even with these, we were still rejected. Why? Our birth certificate had our mother’s maiden name on it, but the application for the Visa to enter Brasil had their current last name. Santana instructed us to each visit one of the US consulates and get an inscription letter. We finished out the visit that day by Santana taking our fingerprints and making a list of all of the items we needed to bring next time. For example, I made copies of my stamped pages in my passport and got them notarized. Santana laughed at me for getting them notarized and told me that it was a waste of time because he is a state official and him seeing my passport is enough to verify it. As well, I went to a photo place for my copies and they put two pages on each paper, which is another no no.
The next part of the adventure- how do I even go about getting an inscription letter? It didn’t matter which consulate I went to, as long as I made an appointment ahead of time and visited one of them with all of my materials ready. I went in to Sao Paulo expecting all of the worse; instead, the process to get through security took longer than the paperwork. This was my first solo trip in Brasil, which required an overnight bus in and out of Sao Paulo, and a mixture of five metro lines to get to the Brooklyn area. When I arrived at the gate there was a long line, but as I showed my appointment slip they ushered me in… and then kicked me right back out. At this consulate you’re not allowed to bring any bags in, so you must pay to leave your stuff in a locker across the street. My options were a credible looking building that also offered parking services, or the corner newspaper stand that offered for very cheap. I ended up choosing the safer looking venue, but was ripped off and had to pay 20 reais. Once again, I entered the consulate, went through the metal detector, and entered the American Services corridor. A very kind woman called me up, which was especially easy since I had an appointment booked, and she asked for my passport. I had to first pay the $50USD fee for the service and then returned to her for the paper to fill out. I asked her what documents she needed to see, and she said only my passport. Only my passport? Not my birth certificate? You mean that they didn’t even need to see the item that caused this whole extra work? Nope. I filled out the paper with my name, my parents’ names, my marital status, address, and email, which I had to fill out again because I put “single” instead of “solteira”. After that, I signed it in front of the woman, she did as well, she gave the stamp of approval, and that was that.
Tara, the Fulbright research fellow, and I returned back to the Federal Police for our third time hoping that it would be our last. We sat anxiously as Santana examined the new paperwork, but felt relief as he gave the stamp of success. Four months, three Federal Police visits, and one solo trip to the Sao Paulo consulate I finally walked out of the Federal Police with my RNE number document in hand. Santana told us to come back in August to pick up out official printed RNE, and we laughed because at that point we will have less than three months left in Brasil for our stipend.
Moral of the story- make sure that you go online to check the availability of the nearest Federal Police station (No, not every town has one and some people have to travel for these appointments), bring your passport photocopies of ALL pages, a 3x4 photo, and the paper the embassy gave you. Most important, contact them ahead of time to check if you need to get a translation of your birth certificate, and if they suggest anyone local to do that, or whether you will need an inscription letter. From what I’ve gathered, every single experience at the Federal Police is determined by who you work with, how much they like you, how they are feeling that day, and you never know what will happen- so make friends with your local Federal Police Officer!
If you are staying in Brasil for longer than three months then you are required to register with the police and pay a fee. The RNE (Registro Nacional de Estrangeiros- national registration for strangers) requires a passport, the application signed off at the USA embassy, proof of payment, 3x4 photo, a CPF card is helpful but not necessary, photocopies of ALL pages of your passport (I kid you not. Every. Single. One. Whether it does or does not have a stamp on it), and new to the list is- your original birth certificate with an official translation of it or an inscription letter from the US consulate in Brasil. This last part was a new rule put into place as I came to Brasil, and thus I did not know that I had to bring my birth certificate.
The story goes as so- I went online in March to make my appointment for the Londrina Federal Police and the soonest police appointment wasn’t until May 25. I entered Brasil February 23rd, and you generally have to register within three months of entering the country. In a panic, all of us ETAs in Londrina went to the police station together to and plead our case in hopes of a sooner date. No luck. The man told us to return when we had our official appointment dates. We told him that it was crucial for our fellowship and our university placement. To this, he responded by telling us to put our boss from the university on the phone. A surprise to us all, but we had our program manager call, and he pretty much said in exact repetition to her what he said to us.
So, time goes by. It’s now the end of May and I returned to the Federal Police with one of the research Fulbrighters. We went in very hesitantly, only thinking about our last experience. This time though, we worked with the man on the left instead of the right. It made a WORLD of a difference. Santana, our main man who helped us through the process with such kindness and patient, began our process that day by inputting some of our documents into the system. We ran into problems as he asked to see our birth certificate. Tara had her original birth certificate, and I had a believable photocopy of mine. Even with these, we were still rejected. Why? Our birth certificate had our mother’s maiden name on it, but the application for the Visa to enter Brasil had their current last name. Santana instructed us to each visit one of the US consulates and get an inscription letter. We finished out the visit that day by Santana taking our fingerprints and making a list of all of the items we needed to bring next time. For example, I made copies of my stamped pages in my passport and got them notarized. Santana laughed at me for getting them notarized and told me that it was a waste of time because he is a state official and him seeing my passport is enough to verify it. As well, I went to a photo place for my copies and they put two pages on each paper, which is another no no.
The next part of the adventure- how do I even go about getting an inscription letter? It didn’t matter which consulate I went to, as long as I made an appointment ahead of time and visited one of them with all of my materials ready. I went in to Sao Paulo expecting all of the worse; instead, the process to get through security took longer than the paperwork. This was my first solo trip in Brasil, which required an overnight bus in and out of Sao Paulo, and a mixture of five metro lines to get to the Brooklyn area. When I arrived at the gate there was a long line, but as I showed my appointment slip they ushered me in… and then kicked me right back out. At this consulate you’re not allowed to bring any bags in, so you must pay to leave your stuff in a locker across the street. My options were a credible looking building that also offered parking services, or the corner newspaper stand that offered for very cheap. I ended up choosing the safer looking venue, but was ripped off and had to pay 20 reais. Once again, I entered the consulate, went through the metal detector, and entered the American Services corridor. A very kind woman called me up, which was especially easy since I had an appointment booked, and she asked for my passport. I had to first pay the $50USD fee for the service and then returned to her for the paper to fill out. I asked her what documents she needed to see, and she said only my passport. Only my passport? Not my birth certificate? You mean that they didn’t even need to see the item that caused this whole extra work? Nope. I filled out the paper with my name, my parents’ names, my marital status, address, and email, which I had to fill out again because I put “single” instead of “solteira”. After that, I signed it in front of the woman, she did as well, she gave the stamp of approval, and that was that.
Tara, the Fulbright research fellow, and I returned back to the Federal Police for our third time hoping that it would be our last. We sat anxiously as Santana examined the new paperwork, but felt relief as he gave the stamp of success. Four months, three Federal Police visits, and one solo trip to the Sao Paulo consulate I finally walked out of the Federal Police with my RNE number document in hand. Santana told us to come back in August to pick up out official printed RNE, and we laughed because at that point we will have less than three months left in Brasil for our stipend.
Moral of the story- make sure that you go online to check the availability of the nearest Federal Police station (No, not every town has one and some people have to travel for these appointments), bring your passport photocopies of ALL pages, a 3x4 photo, and the paper the embassy gave you. Most important, contact them ahead of time to check if you need to get a translation of your birth certificate, and if they suggest anyone local to do that, or whether you will need an inscription letter. From what I’ve gathered, every single experience at the Federal Police is determined by who you work with, how much they like you, how they are feeling that day, and you never know what will happen- so make friends with your local Federal Police Officer!
Feira das Profissões na UEL
We had students from high schools all over the country come for UEL's feira das profissões day, which is similar to a university open house. I got to talk to students from all over Brasil and work alongside my students to tell them about our program. I did sneak away for a bit with Thais, one of the professors I work with for the first year oral production class, to take some pictures in the Letras Espanhol room. I'm so lucky and glad to have supportive and wonderful students that enjoy hanging out with me outside of class and call me over to join the Just Dance activities.
I worked the night shift of the event, between 6-9 pm, and by then the crowds had died down. In order to try to attract the attention of passing by people, we put on Just Dance videos to popular English songs. Depending on the song we attracted some pretty big crowds. I got a bit too into it and jammed out with my students, which resulted in them pointing out just how bad of a dancer I am. To me though, if I can't be who I am in front of them (which is a total goon and crazy goof ball) then how can I ask them to trust me by doing the same. My bad attempt at dance moves was just met by my students encouraging me to continue and calling me over to join. I may have only talked to a hand full of perspective students, but I think we let our personalities shine out to those that we did.
The Long Haul to Get A Cellphone Plan
Getting a phone plan is hard enough in your native language, between the jargon, and being offered deals and plans- it’s difficult. Now throw in a new language. After four months, I finally have a phone plan under my name.
When I moved to Brasil, I thought that the easiest option for phone service would be a rechargeable fill as you go plan. I bought a sim card from a supermarket and just needed to register it for it to start working. As I continued to try to use it I found that although I had money loaded onto it, my phone was still not working. So, I headed to my nearest Vivo store. This would be the Vivo store where they talked at me for one hour, even though they were trying their best to help me and explain the situation, and I teared up in front of three store associates. In my little to just very basic Portugues, I deciphered that for some reason, the prepaid plan wasn’t working and they convinced me that I had to buy a monthly plan. Why the prepaid did not work, but is working for several of my friends, is still beyond me. Anyway, I took their advice and tried to set up a monthly plan, which ended up being an adventure in a half.
In order to buy a lot of bigger items- gym memberships, furniture, cars, etc, one must provide his or her CPF number. In other words, they must give their social security number to the cashier, which to me is an odd concept. In the USA we guard our social security number heavily and fear identity theft, but in Brasil they give this number even when checking out at a grocery store. All of the purchases logged on a person’s CPF number then is processed into their taxes that year, or a process along those lines with Federal monetary involvement. So, Vivo told me that I would need a CPF to register a phone plan. Getting a CPF was on my to-do anyway, so no big deal. It only involved a day of going to the Post Office and Receita Federal- a process that took a few hours, but was easy enough. Later that week, I returned to the Vivo store, and when the women recognized me they had that “oh no, she’s back” look. For an hour, we tinkered with the system and they tried adding my CPF number to create an account for me.
Surprise, surprise, my CPF number was too new. They told me that because it was so new, it was as if I was just born in the system and could not be accepted. Defeat, once again. This time, they told me that in order me for to create an account I needed to use someone else’s CPF number and register it under their name. That meant that I dragged my poor friend Mario along for another hour long adventure visit to the store, in which they had to record all of his information, made him sign papers, and then technically created the account under his name. Here we are, about a month to living in Brasil, and trying to live off of solely wifi to communicate with everyone. The store clerks told me to return in a few weeks when my CPF was more used, and could be recognized by the system, to swap the account.
When I returned, you can guess what happened- no success. This time though, the ladies told me that I needed an RNE number register the plan. This RNE number can be received by going to the federal police, registering with them, and paying a few hundred reais. Little did I realize that this is what I had an appointment for the next month, which is a whole other story. By this point, I have a working plan, but it’s under someone else’s name. I wasn’t too worried, but I felt bad making my friend be accountable legally for my account.
Month three and a half of living in Brasil…. I have my CPF, passport, and RNE document in hand, along with a bit more confidence in Portugues, and I return to the Vivo store. I laid out everything, explained my situation, and TADA! Finally, friends, I completed the process. Thank goodness Brasilians are so kind and were very patient with my lack of Portugues, but man was that a tough pursuit. Moral of the story is, if you are living long term in Brasil and want to get a phone plan either A. bring a Brasilian friend with all of their documents and register under them or B. be prepared to bring your CPF, Passport, and RNE registration.
Thanks for sticking with me through that long rant. It was the first time that I really realized the struggles of doing something that, I honestly don’t like even doing in the USA, took months and months to process that I assumed would be completed easily. In some ways, I wish that the prepaid plan would have worked, but I know that working through the whole process was a good learning experience.
When I moved to Brasil, I thought that the easiest option for phone service would be a rechargeable fill as you go plan. I bought a sim card from a supermarket and just needed to register it for it to start working. As I continued to try to use it I found that although I had money loaded onto it, my phone was still not working. So, I headed to my nearest Vivo store. This would be the Vivo store where they talked at me for one hour, even though they were trying their best to help me and explain the situation, and I teared up in front of three store associates. In my little to just very basic Portugues, I deciphered that for some reason, the prepaid plan wasn’t working and they convinced me that I had to buy a monthly plan. Why the prepaid did not work, but is working for several of my friends, is still beyond me. Anyway, I took their advice and tried to set up a monthly plan, which ended up being an adventure in a half.
In order to buy a lot of bigger items- gym memberships, furniture, cars, etc, one must provide his or her CPF number. In other words, they must give their social security number to the cashier, which to me is an odd concept. In the USA we guard our social security number heavily and fear identity theft, but in Brasil they give this number even when checking out at a grocery store. All of the purchases logged on a person’s CPF number then is processed into their taxes that year, or a process along those lines with Federal monetary involvement. So, Vivo told me that I would need a CPF to register a phone plan. Getting a CPF was on my to-do anyway, so no big deal. It only involved a day of going to the Post Office and Receita Federal- a process that took a few hours, but was easy enough. Later that week, I returned to the Vivo store, and when the women recognized me they had that “oh no, she’s back” look. For an hour, we tinkered with the system and they tried adding my CPF number to create an account for me.
Surprise, surprise, my CPF number was too new. They told me that because it was so new, it was as if I was just born in the system and could not be accepted. Defeat, once again. This time, they told me that in order me for to create an account I needed to use someone else’s CPF number and register it under their name. That meant that I dragged my poor friend Mario along for another hour long adventure visit to the store, in which they had to record all of his information, made him sign papers, and then technically created the account under his name. Here we are, about a month to living in Brasil, and trying to live off of solely wifi to communicate with everyone. The store clerks told me to return in a few weeks when my CPF was more used, and could be recognized by the system, to swap the account.
When I returned, you can guess what happened- no success. This time though, the ladies told me that I needed an RNE number register the plan. This RNE number can be received by going to the federal police, registering with them, and paying a few hundred reais. Little did I realize that this is what I had an appointment for the next month, which is a whole other story. By this point, I have a working plan, but it’s under someone else’s name. I wasn’t too worried, but I felt bad making my friend be accountable legally for my account.
Month three and a half of living in Brasil…. I have my CPF, passport, and RNE document in hand, along with a bit more confidence in Portugues, and I return to the Vivo store. I laid out everything, explained my situation, and TADA! Finally, friends, I completed the process. Thank goodness Brasilians are so kind and were very patient with my lack of Portugues, but man was that a tough pursuit. Moral of the story is, if you are living long term in Brasil and want to get a phone plan either A. bring a Brasilian friend with all of their documents and register under them or B. be prepared to bring your CPF, Passport, and RNE registration.
Thanks for sticking with me through that long rant. It was the first time that I really realized the struggles of doing something that, I honestly don’t like even doing in the USA, took months and months to process that I assumed would be completed easily. In some ways, I wish that the prepaid plan would have worked, but I know that working through the whole process was a good learning experience.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Settling VS Wandering
I could have chosen to settle down. I could have accepted one of the teaching positions I was offered, and I would have just finished my first year teaching a middle school English class. So many thoughts went through my head when the county English supervisor offered me the contract right at her surprise observation of my class that I student taught. I weighed so many pros and cons after I received my phone call from another county’s English supervisor within twenty-four hours of my interview telling me that I was likely to be offered the job, and promptly received the contract the following day. I had to ask myself- am I ready to settle down yet?
Growing up, I thought that the ideal scenario would include me finding my prince charming at high school and being the stereotypical high school sweethearts, completing a college degree to become a teacher, being proposed to by the end of college, finishing my first year of teaching, getting married, buying a house in a wonderful neighborhood, and starting a family. I thought that I needed this. I thought that I wanted this, and I did until this past year. Now I can’t imagine this reality, which largely is in part due to the fact that most of this timeframe has come and gone and my life has veered so far from this path.
At twenty-three years old I am wandering. Not lost, but still finding my way. I completed my undergraduate bachelor's degree in English with a concentration of Secondary Education and a minor in Art in the Thomas Bellavance Honors College at Salisbury University, which gave me the opportunity to pick the fork in the road. Settling or wandering. I chose Fulbright- I chose Brasil. And although every minute of being here is worth it (value a pena), I still look back and wonder what things would be like if I was still stateside.
Living abroad for nine months in a way puts your life on hold. Before you leave, especially the last few months beforehand, it’s hard to begin anything when you know that soon enough you will be leaving. It feels almost as though you are closed the chapter of a book. Not ending the story, but moving on to a new part, and needing to tie up loose ends. As well, while abroad, you have so many amazing things happening in your current moment but you look back to all of your friends and family who continue on with their lives without you present in the picture. Sometimes I wonder, would you have invited me to that concert too, or would I be sitting on the beach next to you? Thinking like this is silly though, and I try to remind myself to soak in every moment of the time abroad- because who knows if I will ever live in Brasil again.
It’s these thoughts as I look to once again apply for fellowships, but this time for masters funded programs- such as Marshall, Cambridge, Mitchell, and Rhodes. I ask myself where I would want to place myself for at least the next two years to complete a masters, and then I wonder if a doctorate degree is in my future. I’m taking the approach to throw everything at the wall and see what sticks, but it’s so nerve-wrecking to think about the future. The first time I heard the term “imposter syndrome”, I finally felt relieved to know that there is a defined term to explain what I’ve felt. Somedays, I stand beside my fellow Fulbright ETAs and wonder- how did I ever get chosen for this? I’m working alongside brilliant (beyond brilliant) graduates who have done everything short of save the world. Yes, I’ve had some accomplishments along the way, which I won’t deny, but it’s very intimidating still. Knowing that Fulbrighters just like them, who are equally as spectacular, applying for the same fellowships makes me so nervous. Some fellowships offer only forty positions each year. So, it’s me versus the super-genius overachiever, and I’m not sure if I would even have a chance. I won’t let that stop me though. Let the essay season begin.
Growing up, I thought that the ideal scenario would include me finding my prince charming at high school and being the stereotypical high school sweethearts, completing a college degree to become a teacher, being proposed to by the end of college, finishing my first year of teaching, getting married, buying a house in a wonderful neighborhood, and starting a family. I thought that I needed this. I thought that I wanted this, and I did until this past year. Now I can’t imagine this reality, which largely is in part due to the fact that most of this timeframe has come and gone and my life has veered so far from this path.
At twenty-three years old I am wandering. Not lost, but still finding my way. I completed my undergraduate bachelor's degree in English with a concentration of Secondary Education and a minor in Art in the Thomas Bellavance Honors College at Salisbury University, which gave me the opportunity to pick the fork in the road. Settling or wandering. I chose Fulbright- I chose Brasil. And although every minute of being here is worth it (value a pena), I still look back and wonder what things would be like if I was still stateside.
Living abroad for nine months in a way puts your life on hold. Before you leave, especially the last few months beforehand, it’s hard to begin anything when you know that soon enough you will be leaving. It feels almost as though you are closed the chapter of a book. Not ending the story, but moving on to a new part, and needing to tie up loose ends. As well, while abroad, you have so many amazing things happening in your current moment but you look back to all of your friends and family who continue on with their lives without you present in the picture. Sometimes I wonder, would you have invited me to that concert too, or would I be sitting on the beach next to you? Thinking like this is silly though, and I try to remind myself to soak in every moment of the time abroad- because who knows if I will ever live in Brasil again.
It’s these thoughts as I look to once again apply for fellowships, but this time for masters funded programs- such as Marshall, Cambridge, Mitchell, and Rhodes. I ask myself where I would want to place myself for at least the next two years to complete a masters, and then I wonder if a doctorate degree is in my future. I’m taking the approach to throw everything at the wall and see what sticks, but it’s so nerve-wrecking to think about the future. The first time I heard the term “imposter syndrome”, I finally felt relieved to know that there is a defined term to explain what I’ve felt. Somedays, I stand beside my fellow Fulbright ETAs and wonder- how did I ever get chosen for this? I’m working alongside brilliant (beyond brilliant) graduates who have done everything short of save the world. Yes, I’ve had some accomplishments along the way, which I won’t deny, but it’s very intimidating still. Knowing that Fulbrighters just like them, who are equally as spectacular, applying for the same fellowships makes me so nervous. Some fellowships offer only forty positions each year. So, it’s me versus the super-genius overachiever, and I’m not sure if I would even have a chance. I won’t let that stop me though. Let the essay season begin.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Rio de Janeiro Exploration- Beaches, Municipal Cathedral, Santa Teresa, Forts, and more
June 2nd morning we had a later start, a lazy breakfast, and took a walk along Ipanema beach to Aporador Rock, which is famous for its sunset view. It was a beautiful and sunny day and it had a great view of Ipanema and Copacabana beach down each side. We next took the Metro to Carioca and wandered to the Municipal Cathedral, which is shaped like a Mayan temple. The inside had beautiful stained glass along the four sloping walls, and the center podium had seating around three directions. Next, we walked past the aqueduct to the Lavradio Fair in Santa Teresa. The fair only happens the first Saturday of every month and draws in over 300 vendors. On a side street we saw a live Capoeira performance with music and a crowd gathered to watch the fluid movements of the dance fight.
On our way up the Seleran Stairs we bumped into some Fulbrighters from Gioana in town for the Rio de Janeiro marathon. The stairs were more crowded than I expected, but the tile work was colorful and beautiful. Evidently, the tiles are swapped out with next artwork every so often. Houses lined the infamous step staircase with residents trying to sell pictures imprinted on al materials. We continued on through the hilly Santa Teresa neighborhoods to the Parque das Ruinas. The old refurbished building was a lot more impressive than I expected, and the top of the third floor provided an amazing 360 degree panoramic view.
By one in the evening we headed back towards Copacabana beach, hoping to get in some sunny beach time, but the sun was setting in two-three hours. The water this day was even colder than the first, and I honestly enjoyed Ipanema Beach better than Copacabana- but both were breathtaking with the meeting of city, ocean, and mountains. We relaxed on the beach for an hour and then decided to walk to the end of the beach to the Duque das Caixas (a fort on the hillside). The fort closed at 4:30, and we went up at 4, so we only had a bit of time to admire the view looking down on the city, the Christ Redeemer in the distance, and Pao de Acucar. We walked back to the metro along Copacabana beach. The cobble stone roads, crashing waves, and hazy mountains around sunset were amazing.
That night for dinner, Jake picked a Portuguese restaurant. It looked like a market store out front, but then as you walked in it had bottles of wine lining the walls and about 12 tables arranged. We had bacalao fish, and a famous tradition sandwich with calabresa, filet mignon, eggs, and poutine fries. We looked around markets for cheap wine and chocolate, and Jake snuck my wine into the hostel for me.
On our way up the Seleran Stairs we bumped into some Fulbrighters from Gioana in town for the Rio de Janeiro marathon. The stairs were more crowded than I expected, but the tile work was colorful and beautiful. Evidently, the tiles are swapped out with next artwork every so often. Houses lined the infamous step staircase with residents trying to sell pictures imprinted on al materials. We continued on through the hilly Santa Teresa neighborhoods to the Parque das Ruinas. The old refurbished building was a lot more impressive than I expected, and the top of the third floor provided an amazing 360 degree panoramic view.
By one in the evening we headed back towards Copacabana beach, hoping to get in some sunny beach time, but the sun was setting in two-three hours. The water this day was even colder than the first, and I honestly enjoyed Ipanema Beach better than Copacabana- but both were breathtaking with the meeting of city, ocean, and mountains. We relaxed on the beach for an hour and then decided to walk to the end of the beach to the Duque das Caixas (a fort on the hillside). The fort closed at 4:30, and we went up at 4, so we only had a bit of time to admire the view looking down on the city, the Christ Redeemer in the distance, and Pao de Acucar. We walked back to the metro along Copacabana beach. The cobble stone roads, crashing waves, and hazy mountains around sunset were amazing.
That night for dinner, Jake picked a Portuguese restaurant. It looked like a market store out front, but then as you walked in it had bottles of wine lining the walls and about 12 tables arranged. We had bacalao fish, and a famous tradition sandwich with calabresa, filet mignon, eggs, and poutine fries. We looked around markets for cheap wine and chocolate, and Jake snuck my wine into the hostel for me.
To see my adventures, click here to watch this video:
Municipal Cathedral
Aqueduct
Municipal Cathedral
Santa Teresa market
Selaran Stairs
Selaran Stairs
Selaran Stairs
Parque das Ruinas
Duque das Caixas
Duque das Caixas
Copacabana Beach
Copacabana Beach
Rio de Janeiro- Sunrise Hike and Day 1
My Corpus Christi Holiday fell on the tailend of the greve- national strike with the truckers association, so I hoped that no delays would come to my flight… but they did. I left for the airport way too early, as I normally do, and got there at 9:40 am for a 11:55 am flight. My flight was delayed until 2 pm though, which made me miss my connecting flight in Sao Paulo to Rio de Janeiro. Alexa, a Fulbright from Apucarana, was also in the airport waiting for her flight and we hung out as we waited. I finally made it to Sao paulo, caught my adjusted flight to Rio, ubered from the airport to the metro station, and met up with Jake. We met at the municipal theatre, which Jake described as “Wizard of Ozy” with its green glow. We took the metro to the Ipanema neighborhood for our Pousada- Bonita. We went out to dinner with an America named Cesar, who was also staying at the Pousada. That night we spent drinking wine and talking to the bartender,and then booked an early excursion for a hike.
Jake and I woke up at 3:30 am the next morning, and met up with our hiking group in the lobby. This included a hippy guide named Gustavo, another guide, a Spaniard woman,and a Brazilian woman. We drove to a certain point in the Tijuca National Park and then hiked from there. We hiked up Pedra Bonita and has a stunning view of the major North and South zone beaches, Christ the Redeemer, and all of the city. We stayed there for about an hour as the sun peaked, and beside us was Pedra da Gávea. On the drive back we stopped at the viewpoints for Vista Chinesa and Mesa do Imperador, but the drive up through the national park was winding and on the hillside. The views were absolutely breathtaking.
We got back to the hostel and had a scant breakfast. There was no fresh fruit being served because of the greve. After, we walked three blocks to Ipanema Beach and spent an hour relaxing. I was surprised by just how many vendors come right up to you and try to sell you their hats, congas, drinks, food, toys and what not- and they even tried to sell to jake as he was sleeping. The beach water was colder than I expected, and similar to New Jersey water temperature, but the waves were much smaller (but I guess the temperature can be explained by the June Winter season).
To see the video of my adventures, click here:
Jake and I woke up at 3:30 am the next morning, and met up with our hiking group in the lobby. This included a hippy guide named Gustavo, another guide, a Spaniard woman,and a Brazilian woman. We drove to a certain point in the Tijuca National Park and then hiked from there. We hiked up Pedra Bonita and has a stunning view of the major North and South zone beaches, Christ the Redeemer, and all of the city. We stayed there for about an hour as the sun peaked, and beside us was Pedra da Gávea. On the drive back we stopped at the viewpoints for Vista Chinesa and Mesa do Imperador, but the drive up through the national park was winding and on the hillside. The views were absolutely breathtaking.
We got back to the hostel and had a scant breakfast. There was no fresh fruit being served because of the greve. After, we walked three blocks to Ipanema Beach and spent an hour relaxing. I was surprised by just how many vendors come right up to you and try to sell you their hats, congas, drinks, food, toys and what not- and they even tried to sell to jake as he was sleeping. The beach water was colder than I expected, and similar to New Jersey water temperature, but the waves were much smaller (but I guess the temperature can be explained by the June Winter season).
To see the video of my adventures, click here:
Pedra Bonita
Mesa do Imperador
Pedra Bonita
Pedra Bonita
Pedra Bonita
Vista Chinesa
Vista Chinesa
Ipanema Beach
Long Overdue Bonito Memories
It was a cold and long bus ride from Londrina to Campo Grande (9:30 pm- 7 am), which we then took an uber to the localiza in took to pick up our rental car! Thank goodness Lara knows how to drive manual cars, and she took the lead on that one. We ventured the 3.5 hours through the plain lands to Bonito in Mato Grosso do Sol and made it to Papaya Hostel. The first night we swam with fish at the Balneario Municipal, which had crystal blue water and a current that swept you down between the ladder entry points. That night we walked around the main portion of town and ate at a buffet style restaurants called Vovo, which is still my favorite Brazilian meal I’ve had here to date.
The next morning we were up nice and early, due to a mistake in the alarm setting, but chilled in the hammocks and saw the sunrise at 5:50 am. Our first excursion was Sao Mateus Gruta, which reminded me of Luray Caverns, in Virginia. Our tour guide, Cisero, was awesome and went between Portuguese and English for me. Our tour started in a house museum, and we made our way up to the third story to get fitted with helmets. From there, it was a walk across a swinging bridge, through the woods, and to the caverns.
Our next event that day was located at a resort called Nascente Azul, where we were served a lunch buffet and hung out by the ropes course over the water until it was our time for the group flutuacao. Our tour guide was rushed and very blunt, but successfully got us set up in our wetsuits. We practiced floating and snorkeling, then went to an area that you could pull yourself down the rope ten feet. Most of the river was only five feet deep at most, and I followed the fish around. We disembarked from the group tour and headed back to town, where we redeemed our free caipirinha coupon that night.
The next day we started early with the Estancia Mimosa waterfall tour. We checked in to the event, and I tried to spell out my name in Portuguese, which only ended with my name being Prettany for the day. As we waited to gear up, we hung out by the lake, which was resident to several Jacare- alligators. Once our tour started, we trekked out to the furthest waterfall first for about thirty minutes. There, we could swim out to and stand under the waterfall, but the current was really strong and they had ropes to pull yourself over. Next, we took a boat ride between the waterfalls, and piled into two paddle boats. This next waterfall had a cavern behind the waterfall and little coves to explore. As this event ended, we adventured to Boia tub crossing, which we passed and got lost. There were six of us on the tubing excursion, and they explained the directions in fast Portuguese. I expected a very calm float down the river, which was the opposite of what happened. What I didn’t understand in the explanation, is that they were preparing us for when we fell at the first waterfall, which they claimed was going to happen- and it did. We had to grab ropes to pull ourselves along the river and navigate small waterfalls. On the way back to the hostel, we had a cow block the road and stand there for a solid five minutes before moving- but even our yelling, honking, and mooing did not persuade him to move. We called this day our Jacare day, since we saw and ate Jacare in town that night!
We left Bonito the next morning, but decided to take an alternate back to Campo Grande. What we didn’t know is that this highway road was a single lane dirt road for 90 kilometers, with no visibility on hills and turns, and cars came barreling down it. We eventually made it to Aquidauana, known as the Portal of the Wetlands. We walked around by the church, Friendship Bridge, and local university. We made it back in time to return out rental car, but we were charged a cleaning fee. That day, everything was closed for the Holiday weekend, so we spent six hours in the mall. There, we met a family who gave us oranges and informed us that we couldn’t just eat chocolate. For a long weekend adventure, I think that we definitely took advantage of seeing a bunch and it was worth the long trip up. If I could go back, I would definitely also visit Lago Azul and Boca da Onca Waterfall.
The next morning we were up nice and early, due to a mistake in the alarm setting, but chilled in the hammocks and saw the sunrise at 5:50 am. Our first excursion was Sao Mateus Gruta, which reminded me of Luray Caverns, in Virginia. Our tour guide, Cisero, was awesome and went between Portuguese and English for me. Our tour started in a house museum, and we made our way up to the third story to get fitted with helmets. From there, it was a walk across a swinging bridge, through the woods, and to the caverns.
Our next event that day was located at a resort called Nascente Azul, where we were served a lunch buffet and hung out by the ropes course over the water until it was our time for the group flutuacao. Our tour guide was rushed and very blunt, but successfully got us set up in our wetsuits. We practiced floating and snorkeling, then went to an area that you could pull yourself down the rope ten feet. Most of the river was only five feet deep at most, and I followed the fish around. We disembarked from the group tour and headed back to town, where we redeemed our free caipirinha coupon that night.
The next day we started early with the Estancia Mimosa waterfall tour. We checked in to the event, and I tried to spell out my name in Portuguese, which only ended with my name being Prettany for the day. As we waited to gear up, we hung out by the lake, which was resident to several Jacare- alligators. Once our tour started, we trekked out to the furthest waterfall first for about thirty minutes. There, we could swim out to and stand under the waterfall, but the current was really strong and they had ropes to pull yourself over. Next, we took a boat ride between the waterfalls, and piled into two paddle boats. This next waterfall had a cavern behind the waterfall and little coves to explore. As this event ended, we adventured to Boia tub crossing, which we passed and got lost. There were six of us on the tubing excursion, and they explained the directions in fast Portuguese. I expected a very calm float down the river, which was the opposite of what happened. What I didn’t understand in the explanation, is that they were preparing us for when we fell at the first waterfall, which they claimed was going to happen- and it did. We had to grab ropes to pull ourselves along the river and navigate small waterfalls. On the way back to the hostel, we had a cow block the road and stand there for a solid five minutes before moving- but even our yelling, honking, and mooing did not persuade him to move. We called this day our Jacare day, since we saw and ate Jacare in town that night!
We left Bonito the next morning, but decided to take an alternate back to Campo Grande. What we didn’t know is that this highway road was a single lane dirt road for 90 kilometers, with no visibility on hills and turns, and cars came barreling down it. We eventually made it to Aquidauana, known as the Portal of the Wetlands. We walked around by the church, Friendship Bridge, and local university. We made it back in time to return out rental car, but we were charged a cleaning fee. That day, everything was closed for the Holiday weekend, so we spent six hours in the mall. There, we met a family who gave us oranges and informed us that we couldn’t just eat chocolate. For a long weekend adventure, I think that we definitely took advantage of seeing a bunch and it was worth the long trip up. If I could go back, I would definitely also visit Lago Azul and Boca da Onca Waterfall.
Our rental car for the weekend
Sao Mateus Gruta
Sao Mateus Gruta
Sao Mateus Gruta
Nascente Azul lounge area
Estancia Mimosa
Estancia Mimosa
Estancia Mimosa
Estancia Mimosa
Estancia Mimosa
Estancia Mimosa
The long unpaved dangerous ride back
Aquidauana- Port to the Pantanal
Aquidauana Friendship Bridge
Aquidauana Cathedral
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