Brazil: Florianopolis, Iguazu Falls, and Saudade

27.09.2013

• Another busy travel day begins with a flight to Rio during the sunrise where I have enough time to send an email and eat a pao de quejio before getting another flight to Florianopolis, a large island in the south of Brasil. I have the day to spend here before catching a bus tonight to Foz do Iguacu (Iguazu Falls). When I get off the plane in Florianopolis I notice two things: first, the weather is much, much cooler, dare I say ideal, and, second, that everything smells good here. I am not exagerating. Everything smells good. Bus stations, beaches, people, public restrooms, air, dirt. I am not sure what kind of magic this is but I would like a double order to-go. 
• After getting my bus ticket, checking my luggage into storage, and making an inquiry at the tourist info desk, I was off for a little Flori-adventure. On suggestion from Cesar in Belem I took a bus to Barria de Largo, a seaside neighborhood about an hour from the bus terminal. It was a dreamy drive over hills and around lagoa da conceicao, a large lake in the center of the island, and out to the ocean. A young man on the bus was excited to meet a native English speaker to practice his vocabulary after having lived and studied in the United States for a year on exchange. In return he directed me to a wonderful little seafood restaurant where I grabbed a seat with a view of the water... and a man dressed as Disney's Captain Jack Sparrow. No questions asked. I ate my fish with shrimp sauce in blissful peace. 
• After lunch I walked the jetty out to a set of small lighthouses where a river channel meets the sea. I basked in the sun and watched surfers crowd the waves. Still a bit tired from a long night of flying I found comfort in a long beach walk replete with far-off stares into the distant ocean horizon. Eventually the day began to fade and I found another bus back toward the city (after buying another swimsuit, of course). I had enough time at the station to send Kevin a little Happy Anniversary! message. One year ago he made a move on a gun-shy boy, reluctant to make a good friend a new lover. One year later I am deeply grateful that he has become my best friend and my loving partner. For all the blessings in my life I count him first today. Thanks, Babe.
• Ok, time for a 14 hour bus ride...

28.09.2013

• I woke up in the hills outside of Foz do Iguacu and anxiously awaited our arrival after two nights sleeping on planes and buses. We pulled into the terminal, disembarked, I bought a ticket out of town for tomorrow night, and scoped the local bus toward my hostel. One easy transfer later I was was arriving at Favela Chic Hostel, which has a posh, shabby-chic feel. But, forget about the look of it, they had hot water in the showers which is all I really cared about at this point. I lingered there for a long while, thawing my icy, travel weary body back into human form. 
• With a bit of rain overhead I decided to pop into a grocery store for a buffet lunch to refuel my calorie supply and see if the weather might turn. Trusting that the skies would clear for me I decided to catch the bus out to the falls, the primary attraction in the area. Foz do Iguacu is actually considered one of the seven natural wonders of the modern world and is the fifth largest waterfall in the world, up to 9,500 feet wide (three times larger than Niagara Falls), where the Rio Parana drops between bordering nations Brasil and Argentina. By the time I arrived the rain was pouring and I waited a few more minutes in the gift shop before committing to a park entrance ticket. By the time I swiped my credit card the sun was peeking through and the rain would not show itself again today. Little travel blessings. 
• I hopped a double-decker bus into park and got off when we hit the first scenic trail, skipping the option to pay for a boat ride below the falls. The sound of the falls grew louder with each step along the tree lined path which soon gave way to a magnificent view of the roaring falls. I was again awestruck, like a child, at the amazing beauty and power that mother nature has created in the chaos of this planet. The panorama of falling water seemed never to end, cascading down tiers of rock to swirling pools below. I hiked along the path taking photos with my fellow tourists, sometimes taking photos for them, sometimes taking photos of them. I think it's funny that I have self-imposed rules about when it is ok or not to take photos of local people and places but always feel free to snap shots of tourists as if we have all consented to being spectacles in our outsider role of wandering observers. At the end of the path a platform extends out onto one layer of the falls, the highest and heaviest point, ominously named the Devil's Throat. I zipped up my rain coat and did my best to protect my camera as I walked into the heavy spray, capturing a few choice moments and a few shots of the perpetual rainbows that greet the soaking visitors. Satisfied with myself and not too wet I bought some chocolate and made it to the top of the falls to glimpse the Argentinian flag flying on the far side of the river. 
• I decided to ditch the bus and walk back to the main gate to enjoy the afternoon sun which tinted everything a romantic golden hue. I passed the Hotel das Catarats, the historic landmark inside the park, and decided to check it out. Inside there was an H. Stern store and I stopped for a look not knowing when I could again marvel at the craftsmanship of Brasilian jewelry. A lovely gentleman at the counter showed me the collection and encouraged me to check out the hotel starting with a climb to the building's viewing tower. I have a soft spot for perches and was quick to find the staircase to the peak of the building with spectacular views over the falls and distant fields of two neighboring countries. I lingered there long enough to watch the sun begin to set and for the birds to being their evening squawking. 
• I decided to take a look at the restaurant which was well out of my day's budget but somehow thought a visit to the spa might still be fruitful. I inquired about pedicures but the receptionist informed me there were no appointments available this evening or the next day. I was a bit disappointing because I thought I might actually take a pedicure (my feet are in terrible shape after all of this walking on varied surfaces, usually in flip-flops and barefoot). Then, the receptionist informed me that guests were welcome to use the steam bath and relaxation areas at any time without an appointment or charge. Is it lying if someone assumes you are guest and you don't correct them in order to have free access to spa facilities? Yes, probably, but I am morally flexible in this area. A very long steam, a couple of cups of tea, some light reading about the lights and power sources of Brasilian cities (many of which I recognized from the photographs), and I was a very happy and relaxed man walking out of the spa some two and a half hours later. In my defense (and I have none), I did leave a generous tip for the spa attendant. Good karma: check.
• On my way out of the hotel I asked if the park shuttle was still running as the park was surely closed by now. I was reassured that the hotel shuttle was available for guests and would gladly take me to the gate. Again, morally flexible when offered a free ride. On the ride I met a man from Texas who develops online education programs which are used all over the world who was visiting a Brasilian partner who has opened several e-schools throughout the country. Back at the gate I caught a public bus downtown, bought a quick snack, and then got a connection out to hydro-electric dam for the Friday/Saturday night light show. The funny thing about daylight savings time is that is happens at a different time of the year in opposite directions depending on which hemisphere you are in. One hour late and time to think and sing while waiting for another bus home. 
• Back at the hostel I met two recent medical school graduates from Tunisia who just finished a bit of work and vacation time in Brasil. Tunisia is so close to Morocco I just might need to visit. A bit of writing and time for bed. Another first day in a new city in Brasil with plenty of unexpected magic. 

29.09.2013

• An easy day to write about. Wake up, pack up, get lunch, walk through outdoor market downtown, pass by the artist cooperative which is closed on Sundays, walk past a number of other closed shops, grab some lunch an food to-go, finish packing, leave for bus station, start another 16+ hour bus ride, do some Sudoku, try to sleep; end post.

30.09.2013

• I arrived at the bus terminal in Sao Paulo. My trip in Brasil comes full circle. I knew my way from the terminal to the metro to my hostel without needing to look at a map or ask for directions. In a way I feel at home, in the city and in the country. I know it is not actually my home and that I do not know this place in a way that someone does who is from Sao Paulo or Brasil. And yet, there is a familiarity, a comfort, a thousand little places that I left pieces of my heart. It is the longest I have been in one country outside of the United States behind my two months in Cambodia last year. I can feel the emotion of leaving tomorrow begin to build. 
• I checked in to Hostel Vila Madalena, my home in Sao Paulo, cleaned up, and began my day of running errands and resting before more travel. I sent messages to friends in Belo Horizonte. I tried to muster the interest in going out one last night but wanted a night to cozy up somewhere I knew before everything turned into a mysterious adventure again. I went to bed with a head full of thoughts but fell asleep easily. 

01.10.2013

• It didn't take long to finish my errands (watch out for boxes of stuff I mailed home, family) and I had plenty of time to grab one last lunch at my diner on the corner. There are so many little things I know I am going to miss about the little corner of my life that happened here. Even eating a meal reminds me of the many things I won't be eating again until I find a good Brasilian restaurant or a kitchen and one of my linked recipes. But, this is the joy of being an overly-sentimental dude on the road - fall in love and say goodbye, over and over and over again. That word, Saudade, haunts me today. The longing for a thing that has been that will never truly be again. I finish my meal and make my way to the hostel. As a final act of leaving my mark on Brasil, I tag the graffiti wall of the hostel with a little love. I can linger on this wall, next to a painting of Mr. Penguin who reminds me that the center of my heart is still waiting for me back in Seattle. A metro ride and a bus ride and one more new friend, a recent graduate on his way to work in the north in a city that I know now. I say goodbye to him too, happy knowing how many friends Brasil has given me and how many more there are here to discover. Another trip. Thank you, Brasil, et al.