Let me make this perfectly clear: Brazil is by no means a Developed Nation. Now, it would be boastful and inaccurate to claim that it as underdeveloped as Africa - hell that's just ridiculous - but for those of you thinking that the romantic and exotic city of Rio deserves to be considered the same as a first world metropolis (and hence believe that the UN considers it developing because of the rural areas of Brazil underdeveloped), you are entirely mistaken. To prove this, I would like to briefly describe public transportation and the infrastructure built to service it. Although the metroes are clean and new-ish, they haven´t really been ideal in where I travel to/from, so I will not discuss them. Instead, let´s take a typical traveller who wants to see a typical attraction. I´ll play that traveller, and we´ll use Corcovado as that attraction (that´s the hill which the giant statue of Christ the Redeemer stands atop). I left at 315, caught a bus, sat in traffic, and got there at 435. Not bad, saying that I am as far south and it is as far north as possible in Rio. The tourist train that takes you to the top of the mountain comes 1-2x an hour, so I waited until 5 to take it up. Thus, from 520 until 6 I was atop the mountain, taking cool photos with my buddy Jesus. Please don´t take this description to mean that I didn´t enjoy going, Jesus´s view was well worth the schlepp. Plus, I got up about 5 minutes before sunset, saw the sunset from the highest point in Rio, then went down about 10 minutes after sunset. This brings us back to about 625 when I came back down the mountain. Not bad still. At 830, however, I finally got home. Granted that Rio is a massive city, this voyage could have taken 35-45 minutes without traffic. Luckily for me, other travellers, and all the students and poor people, the buses take forever, and if you choose the r$2.20 bus instead of the r$2.70 (as in no air conditioning), it can only be described as what it was: a jam-packed bus with minimal ventilation, also known as a sauna of stench and sweat without the amenities or politeness of a spa. Oh yea, and it gets just a tiny bit humid inside. Either way, the buses have been my lifeline around Rio, and as long as they take (even with planning my day around most heavily packed hours), I still have gotten to see most of Rio.
Yesterday consisted heading to the airport between 2 and 3 hours early because as a foreigner, I am not entitled to purchase my ticket online. I got lucky because the price remained constant; I go real lucky because I got an aisle; I got super lucky when I sat down I was next to a baby and his 4 year old brother. Woo hoo for that flight. So I got to Salvador where it has rained for the last week, and instead of continuing, the streak, the heavens decided to stop crying for at least today. That doesn´t mean there is nothing to cry about though, as poverty roams these streets. From starving dogs baking in the sun to children doing tricks in the street to many of the people not having shoes, Salvador does not have the glimmer of wealth that rushes through Rio. As I fried under the hot sky today on my walk from the beach at Barra to the historic city (Pelo), I took a wrong turn and saw the downhill street ahead of me switch from cobblestone road to muddy sewage. As 3 separate people - none of whom had cool graphic Ts, showered recently, or shoes - pointed for me to turn around, I figured I was alittle off the tourist track. I listened to their advise by the way (everything behind them just got worse and dirtier and looked more dangerous), and found my way to Pelo, which was filled with beggars and tourists, most of whom were Brazilian, although all I did was get harassed for not giving them money, which I ended up changing my mind about and donating to the Capoerha guys, but not the beggars.
Anyways, I´m now in my hostel in Salvador, which makes me pay for internet and has no kitchen nor hot water, but at least the included breakfast is real tasty. It´s nice and close to the beach, but there are no tourists (there are like 100 people in like 25 hostels). I have no roommates in my 10 bedroom collective, except my one roommate who is a Swiss German, soft rock guitar player who gets inspired by Jesus, Obama, and nature and often times seems clinically insane. I think I´ll be switching hostels very, very soon.
Yesterday consisted heading to the airport between 2 and 3 hours early because as a foreigner, I am not entitled to purchase my ticket online. I got lucky because the price remained constant; I go real lucky because I got an aisle; I got super lucky when I sat down I was next to a baby and his 4 year old brother. Woo hoo for that flight. So I got to Salvador where it has rained for the last week, and instead of continuing, the streak, the heavens decided to stop crying for at least today. That doesn´t mean there is nothing to cry about though, as poverty roams these streets. From starving dogs baking in the sun to children doing tricks in the street to many of the people not having shoes, Salvador does not have the glimmer of wealth that rushes through Rio. As I fried under the hot sky today on my walk from the beach at Barra to the historic city (Pelo), I took a wrong turn and saw the downhill street ahead of me switch from cobblestone road to muddy sewage. As 3 separate people - none of whom had cool graphic Ts, showered recently, or shoes - pointed for me to turn around, I figured I was alittle off the tourist track. I listened to their advise by the way (everything behind them just got worse and dirtier and looked more dangerous), and found my way to Pelo, which was filled with beggars and tourists, most of whom were Brazilian, although all I did was get harassed for not giving them money, which I ended up changing my mind about and donating to the Capoerha guys, but not the beggars.
Anyways, I´m now in my hostel in Salvador, which makes me pay for internet and has no kitchen nor hot water, but at least the included breakfast is real tasty. It´s nice and close to the beach, but there are no tourists (there are like 100 people in like 25 hostels). I have no roommates in my 10 bedroom collective, except my one roommate who is a Swiss German, soft rock guitar player who gets inspired by Jesus, Obama, and nature and often times seems clinically insane. I think I´ll be switching hostels very, very soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment