EL GRAN VIAJE: A Pan-American Adventure

Carnaval Party

This leg of the Gran Viaje

The Wayward Drive West... across western Brasil and Paraguay

2/21-3/03/04

Following a week in the Pantanal we returned to Rio on Friday before Carnaval. Carnaval may well be the greatest party in the World. Similar to Mardi Gras, it is the last bash before the beginning of Lent, combining elements of Catholicism, African ritual and just plain hard partying. Throughout Brasil it is essentially a four day release of the pressures of life.

Rio Hash House Harriers

We spent Saturday evening at Copacabana Beach with its parade and partying. Sunday found us with the Rio Hash House Harriers, a "drinking club with a running problem," (http://half-mind.com/Contacts/south_am.htm), unfortunately we showed up too late for the run, but just in time for the drinking.... we hated that! Drink it down, down, down......

The packed and frenetic Sambodromo, the pulsing heart of Rio's Carnaval

Following the Hash we headed to the Sambodromo, where Sean that we had met in the Pantanal, had scored two tickets for us. The Sambodromo is an elaborate, semi-permanent facility seating several hundred thousand people built solely for Carnaval. There we watched a parade of unending floats, bikini clad dancers and bands til well after 3am. Despite the huge crowds and ample alcohol, the scene was very mellow, almost family oriented.

A frenzy at Carnaval

After much rain and many beers

For all the beauty of Rio is also suffers from crushing poverty. Creeping up the hillsides are the amorphous, seething favelas. These cities within a city of what appears to be random construction, with no regular electric, water or sewer. The Brasilian equivalent of India's untouchables, these people live at the margin of society, with little in the way of social services, opportunity, or hope. The movie "City of God" features one of the largest, as did a Michael Jackson video in the late 90's. Tours are also offered of these slums, but we couldn't get past the gawking, degrading feeling, just thinking about a tour to highlight peoples despair. Since returning home we have found several websites that offer tourism as a leg up for the youth of these neighborhoods. Better? Maybe.... http://www.favelatourismworkshop.com

Rocinha, Rio's largest favela

Leaving Rio, we headed South along the coast, planning to transit quickly thru Brasil to Paraguay. So much for best laid plans. Gertie suffered a blown head gasket, putting us on a course, via a tow truck, to Santo where we arrive after the Toyota dealer had closed.

Despite being a city of over 400,000, the dealer was unable to effect the necessary repairs. So it was a second tow truck to São Paulo, a city whose population is fast approaching 20,000,000. For reasons of sheer size, lack of attractions and perceived difficulty navigating thru/around a city of this size, we had long planned to avoid São Paulo and now found ourselves here with a broken truck.

A small section of Sao Paulo

Wondering how you accommodate 20,000,000 people? High rise apartments as far as you can see in every direction. A benefit of the detour to the metropolis, however, was the chance to see a large Picasso exhibit, celebrating the 500th anniversary of the founding of the city. We also got to partake in caparinhas, the national drink of Brasil. A potent drink made of cachasa (a sugar cane hooch similar to white rum) lime and sugar, we shared at a neighborhood bar with a trilingual two year old, his Brasilian mother and Belgian expat father. Joe might have over partaken, but still successfully got us back to the hotel.

Good fortune smiled on us as we found a major Toyota dealer, got the truck repaired in three days for $800 and were on our way out of town before noon on Saturday. In an incredible feat of navigation, Joe, without a map and directions in Portuguese (which he doesn't speak) had us out of town and on the road to Foz de Iguazu in less than two hours. It would be no small accomplishment in a major American city with freeways, maps, road signs and directions in your native tongue, none of which we had.

Crossing to Paraguay

Ciudad del Este is just across the Rio Paraná from Foz de Iguazu, connected by a narrow half mile bridge. Crowded with cars and vans carrying Brazilian shoppers, hundreds of motor scooters operate as mini taxis. Our border crossing here was eased once we understood the $20 USD "premium" for a Sunday crossing. Several back offices and an additional charge for the truck and we received 3 day transit visas to cross the country. No receipts of course. It proved to be the only cash payment of its type we made on the entire trip. We did, however, buy cokes, beers, lunch etc for any number of people that help us along the way.

A roadside shanty town

Ten miles into Paraguay we were greeted by an officer that flagged us over and informed us of Paraguay's mandatory headlight law. Ours were off, hence non-compliant. He wanted us to leave the truck, return to town and pay the fine, before he would let us off. As we argued, several cars came by in the other direction with no lights on, and Jack successfully got us off, with out paying anything.

In Paraguay we saw some of the shanty towns we had dreaded seeing. Squatting along sections of highway were 1/4 mile long "towns" of shacks constructed of assorted bits of tin, cardboard, sticks, plywood and plastic sheeting. Children were playing and sleeping on the burnt-orange ground, adults milling around or sitting in the shade. Evidence of endemic poverty, like much of Latin America (and the world), Paraguay's wealth is very unevenly distributed.

A roadside butcher shop

Driving along we saw a cow carcass suspended from the rear hooves and a group of men preparing to butcher it. By the time we turned around they had it disemboweled and split nearly in half. A man with a wooden box strapped the rear of his motorcycle gathered all the intestines, presumably to make sausage. It was amazing the rapidity with which they worked, the whole animal killed, cleaned and divvied up in 30 minutes. Even more amazing was the pack of assorted hounds hovering just inches away waiting for the signal to swoop in and chow down on warm viscera.

Archway to Trinidad

In Paraguay, like north-eastern Argentina, Jesuits had missions to proselytize the Guarani natives. Mission Trinidad is another example of 17 century architecture and a relict of the area's history.

Where's De Niro? The mission

We spent the night at the Hotel Tirol, a sprawling complex of out buildings, pathways and pools owned by Belgian/French expats who emigrated to Paraguay in the early 1950's. A friendly couple with warm staff, they talked about the difficulties of building a business and raising a family in a new country. Decidedly nice, it still felt weird knowing they had guards with pump shotguns, and dogs, roaming the property at night, "to keep out the undesirables."

The Belgian Mystery House Hotel, Capitan Miranda, Paraguay

Our pass through the capitol, Asunción, was rapid and we made a beeline to the border, no signs of course, following a man in a dump truck. He took us on a 10 mile tour before flagging us over a bridge that lead to the border crossing.

Our 72 hours elapsed, we had transited a country the size of California. We left Paraguay having met many warm people, yet more confused about the haves and have nots, and the relative stability of a country, versus the freedoms it's people enjoy. We left with not a full picture, but rather a scattered collage of images, both good and bad, of a country adjusting to a modern world, with many being left behind. We also both felt a desire to learn more about it in the future and the many possibilities to explore.

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