Jiggity Jig

ABOUT EIGHT MONTHS LATER...

OK so, I finished that essay I had been writing, and without the need to procrastinate further, dropped the ball completely in terms of travel updates. Rather than attempt some kind of clumsy retrospective of the time between the previous post and our safe arrival home, I present for the purposes of enditure (a stupid word that isn't even real but is still preferable to closure) this series of "poems" for which I used our trip as inspiration for one of my classes later on.

POSTCARDS FROM BRAZIL

Disneyland

The doughy dream

Is coming for the rest of the world

And it’s riding a motorised scooter

Peru

Trapped in Lima

On a laptop from Taiwan

In pants from China

I long for Brazil

Guarulhos International Airport

At the exhausted and unwashed

End of the Odyssey

We find in our remaining luggage

That the credit card is missing

   

São Paulo

The city enormous

Transforms us to children

And our hometown a distant embryo

Every goal against Santos

Sends up fireworks for Barcelona

And it’s as if from this building

The whole city cheers

Hai

In the spare room

I hide from the housekeeper

Naked without the ability

To explain what I’m doing there

Juliana and Marco

Beautiful friends

With your twin smiles

You are never more Brazilian

Than when you hold each other dancing

Corcovado

Exiting a chapel

Small and serene

I say at the feet of a stone idol colossus

That if Jesus didn’t want me to drink,

He wouldn’t have put a bar here.

And in the afternoon

We bathe in His shadow

And sáude over laughter to a love

Ours alone

Premier Copacabana Hotel

Spaghetti marinara

Twice in two days

A litre of rum in the minibar.

At the desk

I write an essay on Love

And in bed

We perform the field work

Rolling in transplanted sand

Rio

On one side of the street

Antique opulent dollhouses made real

They face the stacked shanties of the favela

This road through the mountain

An augmentation scar

Road Trip

From shacks of corrugated debris

Between explosions of bamboo

Happy families sell papaya

To the highway 

Universo Parallelo 

As long and wide as my forearm,

Stems of marijuana visit in baskets

Our shade is drawn from bamboo halves and palm fronds

Thirty dollars for a home at Pratigi Beach.

The sun becomes hungry, 

Its yawning bite between the green

chased by the waking-draping.  

Protection for sleeping bare legs

as the Atlantic waits warm.

Every body

 a touring exhibition 

The etchings on a skin spectrum, 

Chalk to coal.

Our teeth go numb

In our efforts to elongate time,

Adam and I.

But goodbye is patient

And when the New Year blooms

We all speak the language of kisses

FYI

We are taking a seven hour bus to Rio tomorrow. My only goal, apart from seeing giant Jesus, is to FINISH THIS PHILOSOPHY ESSAY I must write on the topic of LOVE.

Did you know that in Sao Paulo there is a ban -four years young- on fixed advertising (billboards etc), so real estate agents hire people to wear arrow-shaped signs in efforts to attract customers?  

It continues...

Today is the first day that we've failed to do absolutely anything in Sao Paulo, shame on us! But as it is Friday, the night will probably tempt us outdoors. Last night the four of us went to a bar, meeting friends of Marco and Juliana, one of whom was having a birthday. There was limited opportunity to use any language whatsoever due to how loud the music, and incredibly crowded the narrow bar was, but I managed to bust out a 'women? enter?' in Portuguese when I became very confused at the door of a unisex toilet. Bravo Kyah. Bravo.
The bar was celebrating its first anniversary, and did do by cranking out tunes in a deafening mix spanning (more like spamming?) from J-Lo to Kylie Minogue to Brazilian stuff that made the crowd go completely ape shit. Instead of ordering and paying for drinks at the bar, we were issued a card on entry that had a drinks and price list, and the bartender tallied your orders against that. At the end of the night you had to face your total tab in one staggering hit, and if you can't pay says Marco, you win a date with the police.

I don't think I'd enjoy an evening of any sort with the cops around here, exploring the super sized food market downtown, we saw commotion on the road ahead, and then a guy being chased by police, barreling along a fruit cart. When he was stopped the policeman drew his pistol immediately and had it pointed at the guy's head as they struggled with each other. Yikes! Apparently it's illegal to sell food in that manner (without a permit, on that bit of road, I'm not sure) but it's clearly an even worse idea to try to run from an inquisition cause these cops don't 'fruit' around. That wasn't the scariest thing we saw that day, no. Adam ordered a 'traditional' mortadella sandwich from a restaurant at that enormous market, and it was a meaty monstrosity that will haunt my dreams forever. How he could have ordered that after we had to pass by rows upon rows of strung-up pigs through the valley of death on the way up there I will never know.

So back to the bar. I started with a cocktail made with the Brazilian sugarcane liquor Cachaça. Marco had given us a taste of this on an earlier day, without anticipating that if you serve an Australian a drink in a tiny glass, their instinct is to shot it, not savour and share it, which gave us all some embarrassed laughs when I did exactly the former. The liquor is very strong, a little sweet and pungent, like tequila but not horrible. Apparently however, when prepared in a cocktail by our smiling bartender with his questionable multitasking skills, cachaça can taste precisely like an orange dipped in petrol. And I like the smell of petrol. I stuck with beer from then on, and the longnecks were served in enormous custom stubby holders which Adam and I couldn't quite get over.

So it was a pretty good night but after the painful traffic on the way there and knowing the other two still had work the next day, we all took it pretty easy. I did manage to meet a friend of theirs who called himself the 'Karaoke King' which means that as the rightful queen, I must think of the perfect duet and make some royal magic with this guy at a later date. Karaoke is meant to be incredibly popular here, but Adam and I have only explored the Japanese district of Sao Paulo in the daytime, so I have yet to experience it.

Fortunately all of our wages and some backpay I was owed has come through and we have been able to smother the monster that was becoming the credit balance on our back-up card. We are now relatively free agents ready to party and shop, but first of course, there is some lying around to do...





 

 
  

Marry Me, Sao Paulo

I'm in love with this city! Adam is getting there, but history shows him requiring more scrutiny than I when blasting out affection. Our first day here, after a gallant airport rescue effort from Marco and Juliana, was spent largely asleep on the fold-out sofa lovingly prepared for us in their tv room. Their apartment is gorgeous, tastefully decorated with plantlife and artwork from all over the world. We are very spoiled travelers, our hosts being funny and generous English speakers with a thirst for adventure and joy. Our second day here was spent hiding in our room while M&J were both at work, unwilling to disturb their housekeeper, a chatty, friendly 21 year old whose confrontation with us required more courage than either party was able to muster. I'm beginning to understand how crucial my ability to communicate is to my confidence in situations, and if you heard my embryonic Portuguese you might understand why I'm at this point reduced to a quivering social mess, which my English speaking friends might (or might not) find amusing.

Marco and Juju have a tiny dog named Batuki (spelling anyone?) meaning approximately 'to drum' and he is saving me from the separation anxiety I have being away from our gentleman cat-friend Mr. Fatty back home. For now.

Today Juliana took us on a public transport journey to briefly experience the city. Once a week she is prohibited from driving, a scheme applied to every registered car in an effort to reduce traffic in Sao Paulo.
She booked me an appointment at her favourite waxing place So Depliaçao, which I am only able to transcribe because the card I was meant to return is still in my pocket, Aussie aussie aussie. Let me just say that I am now completely beach-ready, and thinking on my previous experiences with hot wax in intimate areas, I wonder now if the entire Australian waxing industry is some kind of government pain-preparation program for the construction of an unbeatable female army. I tried to tell my technician afterwards that 'you are an artist' and I can only guess that it came out intelligible. I mean I understood what she meant by saying 'baby' when she sprinkled talcum powder on my bottom. Before this we had wandered into a regular kind of shoe shop and it was the single best shoe buying experience of my life, I highly recommend it. From the appointment we ate fantastic Japanese food from an all-you-can eat buffet 70 years strong in the city. There is an enormous Japanese population in Sao Paulo, the largest outside of Japan says Juju. The food was delectable, and the miso excellent. Next we made good friends with a bunch of stairs and lifts taking us to our 5 minute allowance on top of Sao Paulo's highest building. I hope Adam uploads some pictures to this blog soon, because Holy Heineken, you know the city is huge, but stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction huge? I've never seen anything like it! We had clear views of enormous clouds and could see exactly where their shadows fell on the distant architecture. Pretty incredible stuff.

The buildings mid-city are enormous, towering above every street on both sides. 'Your city is so tall, and Melbourne is so short' I had said in a moment of profundity. The colour is incredible, the streets alive and activity everywhere. Today was quite a hot day, but not insufferable as the north will be when we visit for the festival. I won't want to leave by then, I'm sure of it.



   
      

At Brazilast

We're here. In another airport, this time it's our intended long-term destination of Sao Paulo, Brazil. We were assured our luggage would be here already, but to be honest I would have collapsed with shock if that actually was the case, given the confusion and uncertainty of exactly everyone we spoke to on the subject. Some were convinced it was in Lima, some were sure it was already in Brazil, having caught the flight we managed to miss after being directed through the wrong gate and accidentally getting into Peru. Some reissued our luggage tags, then called for our return to the counter because that was a mistake, so when we went to check in for the last time, about 48 hours behind our original schedule, and the new clerk reissued the tags again, we weren't brimming with hope for the safe reunion of us and any of our clothes that don't reek of sweat and despair.

So just when we thought the bad part was over, we went to withdraw cash and failed to locate our credit card. Our emergency backup credit card, stretched to its very limits by travel insurance, hotel bookings, last minute flights, no-show penalties at both airport gates and hotel desks... didn't have enough to get even the minimum of money. As a result at about 1am we were stuck in Guarulhos airport, with just 1 US dollar, with no access to funds or to the internet to be able to transfer funds to cards we could use in ATMs. It was pretty grim. Without the internet we also had no way of contacting our mates here in Sao Paulo, nor to check in on whether our missing card had been used by someone else since we last saw it. 

But, in about 8 hours which seems from recent experience to be a short time to spend in an airport solving problems, the wonderful staff at the info desks at Guarulhos took pity on us poor and tired adventurers and allowed us a pair of free wifi access cards which set the remedy in motion. At present, it is about 11am, we have finally made contact with Marco and Juju, who are on their way to pick us up. Our luggage if found, will be sent to their address in Sao Paulo, a replacement credit card will do the same, and I'm about as happy as a clam with some grasp of perspective. Adam is asleep, buried face first into our travel pillow at a table at McDonalds, lost in the warm folds of his sleeper hoodie. Life is about to get good. The staff at this port of LAN operations have been exceptionally helpful and I think we're going to love Brazil, now THAT WE'RE FINALLY FUCKING HERE! Excuse the language Mum, Sharon Cassie and Yvonne (the classiest ladies who might conceivably read this) but the smell of both pairs of our unwashed backpacker's feet has damaged my vocabulary) Love to you all, by way of 'Speedy' brand Brazilian wi-fi at Guarulhos airport.    

 

    

Lima Queens

It's 11:19am local time, and I am steadily pressing a terrified yet grateful me-shaped dent into this hotel doona, which is almost still red after what must be years of abuse by the Peruvian sun. Terrified, because I had in no way prepared myself for a stay here longer than the few hours of our layover between L.A. and Sao Paulo. Grateful, for the conclusion to the series of increasingly expensive fuckups on the part of LAN airlines YES I'M LOOKING AT YOU LAN which has extended our visit to Lima to about 42 hours and maybe $400 beyond anything we'd anticipated. To put it in perspective, I have experienced less frustration and internal mishaps/lack of communication at centrelink. Read that again. Centrelink. But don't go feeling too sorry for us yet! Clearly there are (somewhat mischievous) angels watching over us, because we just survived several car based trips through what is definitely a black hole in the road safety universe. As I said on facebook: in Peru there are no road rules, only a system of locally understood car horning. My worst nightmares were constantly almost coming true, being sure that any ONCOMING MINIVAN was going to continue to HURTLE TOWARDS US AT GREAT SPEEDS. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-vision mirror. I looked like an inflatable sex doll.
What can I say? The positive spin on this enormous turdball that has clogged up our holiday toilet... Is that at least Adam and I are going through it together. And this is not our destination, only the transit. After we make it from here to Sao Paulo tomorrow afternoon (Why do I feel like I'm assuming a lot?), we will never have to travel with LAN again. Truly, they are the rat king and airline least likely to succeed in customer service or BOOKING THE CORRECT DATE of our experience. Also their vegetarian sandwich was bloody bullshit.        

A love song

Oh ancient land Peru
Alas we're stuck in you
Unravelled was my plan
As many are with LAN

Straght from the past to your face

Hi everyone!

We're in L.A. It's about midnight and Adam is, how shall I word this... 'sleeping conclusively.' And by that of course, all I mean is that he is breathing heavily and I am unable to wake him, even in the case of dramatic twists in the latest episode of Boardwalk Empire that I was watching on our hotel TV. Needless to say, my equally dramatic reactions to the episode were about as reciprocated as a letter to Santa.

This morning concluded a metric landslide of high-altitude activity which took us from Melbourne to Auckland and from Auckland to Los Angeles. In New Zealand all I managed to achieve was the sampling of the local beer before our second leg to Hamerica, [sic] but I'm sure you'd all agree that by this action I'm fulfilling my destiny as an Australian traveller, if not my personal destiny as the grandchild of alcoholics. HI MUM I AM KIDDING. Seriously, I ordered a 'pint' and paid 8 NZ bucks and got what was clearly a schooner, but I still love you, New Zealand.

So... DISNEYLAND!

Michelle, my might-as-well-enlist-in-the-army-she's-that-American work friend: you were right. One day is not enough time to experience all the park has to offer. Of course, it was rather magical. But we didn't get there with enough time to do many of the things we'd intended. This, heartbreakingly, means that I won't get to update my facebook profile with a picture of me (Tink) next to a more authentic (and probably not wearing hiking boots and tracksuit pants) 'Disney Tinkerbell'. However, we managed to pack in a pretty magnificent day into the few hours we had to spare. We first sacrificed our mental health to the psychedelic splendour of the 'Small World' ride, becoming as an aside, the billionth customer to make a 'drink the water' Simpsons joke. We chose our rides based on the number of warning symbols were happily pasted next to their places on the map. As a result we sampled a yell-worthy mountain roller coaster on a frontier themed train, and the enormous wet panic attack that was Splash Mountain. Being Christmas season, there was a whole Santa versus Mickey vibe to the whole thing, and attendants with glowing red lightsabres (I ASSUME they were lightsabres) kept 'moving us along' so as not to disturb the walkway by the Xmas parade that was smiling past after dark.

I have to say, my experience at the theme parks I've visited as an Aussie leaves me with an understanding that the whole Disney thing has an entirely different agenda. At home they just want to make a fat carnie laugh when you pay 5 bucks to soil yourself. There it's more journey or story oriented, and might I add, VERY over stimulating. I think I saw colours on that small world ride that were entirely new to me. Is this Disney's conspiracy to make you avoid travelling the world by overwhelming you with a puppeteered approximation of it? In conjunction with Fox News who tonight want the public to think that riot footage from Greece is actually happening in Russia despite the grecian lettering in the background?          

Mickey help me!

So, my friends and soon-to-be-enemies: That was America in 24 hours. I have never, ever seen that many mobility scooters.