One of the federal police looking for drugs on our bus.
Another Face of Rio
Rain.
Lots of rain.
Rain without stop.
Water pouring off roofs,
running over pathways,
filling up every hole.
Wind howling through streets,
bending umbrellas inside out,
spraying water everywhere.
Traffic backed up everywhere,
splashing through puddles,
wetting passers-by.
Wet.
Very wet.
Shoes, pants, shirt, bag.
Splashed by cars, blown by wind, leaking umbrella.
Temperature warm.
Not so cold.
Just wet.
Rio.
Another face.
Moving to Rio
It is a Sunday today, and in a shopping centre in the middle of Belo Horizonte city, I am tapping away on the keyboard, waiting for my bus to Rio. It turns out that there are not a lot of services to Rio on a Sunday and my bus leaves at midnight for the six to seven hour journey. Those heading back to the base in Corrientes will be close to arriving there now, having left two days ago. I am on my own.
Travelling solo can be a lot of fun. The advantage of it is being able to make all the decisions quickly and change plans at the drop of a hat. Not having someone to share the good and bad times is always a drawback. When I travelled the world, my trip followed my friends in each country. It was a lot of fun and filled with great memories. When I travel here, the journey will follow the YWAM bases throughout Brazil. They are friends. Friends that I have just not yet met.
Belo is just like any other city. I checked it all out yesterday with a group of friends. Today, at 30 degrees C, it seemed a better option to remain indoors. So here I sit, scribbling away, and enjoying the airconditioning. In a few hours I will be hurtling down the road towards Rio.
A new destination, and new friends.
Curitiba – The Rain Stopped
It stopped. The rain actually stopped. Not forever though. It is now raining again. But it really did stop.
During the few hours of non-rain, I managed to follow the general tourist route through this town and check out all of the items listed in the good book of travel (which I found in English in one of the bookstores here). They suggested that the walk around town would take about 2 hours and were pretty much on the mark.
Heading down the cobblestoned sidewalks, wet as they were from the recent rain, the going felt slippery. This town was very similar to most other South American towns that I had visited, although there was a definite feeling of being safer. Perhaps this is due to being in a much smaller city than those of Rio, São Paulo and Belo.
This town is acknowledged as being a very green-oriented place, with their recycling, inner-city greenery, and transport systems becoming world renowned and frequently copied in different cities around the world. There are many parks filled with trees and gardens scattered around the city heart and providing a recluse from the busyness of the environment surrounding them.
Visiting 24 street, where every shop is open 24hrs a day, revealed the thoughts of a progressive government who realised that eventually the whole city would probably end up like this, so they started this street as a pioneer point from which the rest of the place could follow. Old churches carved in intricate patterns, paved pedestrian streets lined with old cast-iron street lights, German, Japanese, and many other cultural restaurants, permanent market places for arts and crafts, and dozens of other sights loomed strong as I wandered along through this place.
The old university building with massive Roman-style columns and a huge entry door was fronted by a park even larger than itself, decorated in flowers, trees, sculptured shrubs and shaped grass lawns, providing an impressive final point on the trail. There is always another corner to turn, something else to see, some marked point to reach, but by this time the rain had started again and was growing increasingly heavier. It was time to retreat back to the security of the shopping center and wait.
It is now 6pm and although I had made it to most of the tourist places, I still had not made it to the YWAM base here. With the day over and the rain coming down hard, and being a stranger to the people at this base, I will reserve my visit here for another day.
I am sure that this will not be my last visit to Brazil.
Belo Horizonte at Last
Well we finally arrived in Belo Horizonte, 2 1/2hrs later than our scheduled time, and 5 1/2hrs later than the planned time.
During our journey we travelled through fog so thick we could hardly see the other side of the road, something that proved fatal for a truck and bus which collided in the obscurity. We passed them and some cars that had also hit them while it was still very hard to see. What we did see however, was the bus hanging over the edge of the road pointing down a super steep hill and looking extremely precarious. The authorities had arrived by now and all people were removed from the scene so I am not sure of the severity.
Moving onward, our journey became somewhat monotonous with the occasional stop at a roadhouse dedicated for buses every now and then. There was any supplied videos on the bus, but a man travelling from Ciudad del Este was carrying dozens of DVDs (mostly fakes from what I saw) and we had the privilege of some movie entertainment on the way which helped pass the time. The most interesting however was a Rodeo video with all of the cowboys bouncing around on the back of the bulls and dozens of shots of them falling off. Hmmm, perhaps I am a masochist. 🙂
After stopping in Sao Paulo, we continued north but only for a short time. Suddenly a police vehicle pulled alongside of our bus and indicated for us to stop. Having just overtaken some trucks, I suspected that our driver was in trouble for speeding, but this opinion soon changed when the officers climbed aboard and started inspecting our bags. Before long, we were all out on the roadside, standing by watching as each bag was meticulously inspected, even to the point of cutting through the bag when they could not seen down deep.
Forty minutes later and we are back on our way, finally arriving in Belo at 10.30pm, about an hour after the other YWAM team from Buenos Aires who took another bus which left at the same time as us. It was 1am before we finally climbed aboard the shuttle bus to head to the YWAM base in Contagem and to our beds.
Initially we were expecting our beds to be nice and comfortable, but on climbing into the bus we are told that at this time of night everything is now closed up and there is nowhere for us to stay. So instead, they lead us into the base and provide us with the only section of level space available… the main auditorium stage. Here we sleep the night, finally resting sometime around 2.30am, only to wake at 6am to make way for all of the preparation for the day.
Welcome to the Viva Latina-America conference in Belo Horizonte.
Back to Base
These days I am back in the YWAM base in Corrientes. I successfully caught my 10am ride to Corrientes and was back there by 7.30pm that night. My return from Brazil completed, it then took several days to finally sort through all of the emails and other bits and pieces involved in restoring life to normal after time away.
It was great to be welcomed back by so many friendly people. When I got here the welcome was generally in the form of a shout and an energetic hug followed by countless questions about what had happened and how things had gone. In some ways I felt more like an explorer or mountain climber that had returned from a successful expedition than someone who had only been away for almost two weeks. It certainly was very encouraging however, and I love the warmth and concern that this culture fosters in relationships.
Having a home, a base, where you know people and they know you, is really wonderful. I love travel, and I love challenges too, but sometimes the challenge of travel is nicely offset by such a familiarity. To move out, and finally return to a known place, provides a different level of security. I like it. It is good to come back to base.
Brothers Three
Sometime in 2001, while living in New Zealand, I headed with my elder brother over to Japan where our youngest brother was living for a while. The idea was to catch up with him and check out where he was living as well as get to see some of this fascinating land called Japan.
It was a fantastic time, just us three guys, as we travelled from city to city, and temple to temple. Bush walks with bell-toting-bear-scaring hikers all around us, thousands of steps leading up to temples on mountain tops, and views over nearby highly populated areas. Train travel on super-fast and high-luxury trains from Tokyo to many other cities in the south. Temples and museums and temples and old towns, and temples and parks, and temples and foods. A highly amazing journey through belief systems, cultural diversity, technological marvels, and even the “nostril of Budda” (which was really only a hole in a temple support pole).
During this journey of “The Brothers Three” we stopped in at some of the amazing “fun” centres – a building filled with video games, activities, and photographic booths. Wanting to “capture the moment” of our time here, we all stepped into one of the photo booths. It seemed important to capture some of the fun and amazement we were experiencing in our travels, and with some creative facial expressions we came up with this. The Brothers Three. Amazement. Incredulity. Lost for words.
Brodie (youngest), John (oldest), Me
And so we were as we travelled around this amazing country. Faces of wonder, taking in all of the new sights and exploring so many differences. A fun photo. A fun time. The only time we have ever travelled together.
The Brothers Three.
Many thanks to my good friend Jorge who recently found this photo burried in some books I gave him ages ago and went to the effort of scanning and sending me a copy of it.
Slow Taxi
Time to Leave for Brazil
Well, after all of the anticipation of hitch-hiking to Brazil which then changed to travelling all together in some dilapidated old van, we are back to the standard old method of climbing aboard a bus for the entire journey. I am sure that my mother will breathe a sigh of relief now…
I do not have too much time to write as I am leaving within 1/2hr. Our bus departs Corrientes at 1am and after about 9hrs of travel we turn up bleary-eyed at the border with Brazil. Foz do Iguazu is a very cool town just on the other side of the border with Argentina. From here we catch another bus at sometime around 4pm for a 25hr journey up to the big city of Belo Horizonte.
If our calculations are right, the bus makes it all the way, there are no emergencies, and nothing requires us to deviate from our intended route… then we should arrive at our destination at around 5pm on the day the conference starts. I suspect it will start at around 8pm, so that gives us a 3hr window for any mishaps that may occur on the way.
With a 6hr stop-over in Foz, I hope to drag everyone over the border to Paraguay to show them my popular destination of Ciudad del Este, which they have not yet seen…
…or maybe I will just sleep. 🙂
The Bus That Broke
For the first time in all of my crossings through Foz do Iguaçu, I stopped at the border crossing to get my passport stamped. Leaving the bus behind, as they do not wait for this process, I headed to immigration and filled out the paperwork. Once done, I would need to wait for another bus to continue my journey.
There are two lines serving the Argentina to Brazil route. My journey was free if I used the same company. As I waited, I watched both time and two buses from the other line pass by. Eventually a bus from my company showed up. My goal was the centre of Foz city, where I would be staying the night, although we did not make it quite that far.
The bus was full when I climbed on at the Brazilian border although it almost emptied out at the turn-off for the waterfalls. With a long weekend in both Argentina and Paraguay, there were plenty of tourists around. Once they had gone, there were only six of us left aboard.
As our journey continued towards the city, our bus suddenly turned off and parked on the side of the road. We were all surprised to find our bus stopping such a long way from town. Buses never turn off their engines, even when fuelling, so when our motor stopped we knew the news was bad. Our driver got off and after a short wait returned to tells us that the bus is broken. Our only choice is to get onboard the next bus which he assured us would be coming shortly.
We all get off and wait outside the bus. Some of the more inquisitive of us wander around to the back to see what the problem is. The engine hatch at the back is closed, but there is steam pouring out of most seams. It looks serious. When the hood is opened we can see that the fan belt has slipped off and the engine is boiling. We wait, expecting another bus, but it does not come.
The broken bus, and fellow passengers waiting for a miracle – which comes.
Meanwhile, our driver digs around in the bus and returns with a stick to prop the engine hatch open and the only tool onboard. With all of the expertise of a mechanic, or someone that has been through this process many times before, he coaxes the fan belt back onto the pulleys. To tighten the belt a special sized spanner is needed, or it would be impossible. Our Mac-Gyver bus driver puts his only tool to work. It fits perfectly. One more thing that makes me suspect it is not an isolated incident.
Looking longfully over the hill at the coming traffic, our rescue bus never does appear. Instead, our driver tops up the water in the bus, starts the engine and gives the all clear for getting back onboard. We stop at the nearest service station and add more water before continuing our journey. The bus is serviceable once again.
The bus that broke was now un-broke once again, thanks to our Mac Gyver driver.