“I am going to phuck you up” he tells me…

December 25, 2011:  At night while Cecile and I sat on the stairs outside a church, this man came up sitting close next to me requesting money for food.  With the size of his eyes, looking as if he was missing his eyelids, the money was probably going to feed something, just not his stomach and more like a habit.  The addicts are so creative to get a fix that I read they will sell the food you buy them, so that they can purchase more drugs.

Since asking nicely for the money didn’t work he decided to be more aggressive by doing an air punch towards my face saying, “I am going to phuck you up” making it clear that he wanted money.  I was for certain that there were police officers close and said loudy, “ahhhhh, you want the policia – policia?”  Grabbing my arm, it was obvious that he didn’t want me to go to them, perhaps permenantly banning him from the plaza where just yesterday my pocket was picked.  Breaking it free, I shuffled Cecile off as I pretended we were going to get the police.

People can at times be so predicable.  It is dogs that are unpredictable.

Unknowingly a hand slides in my pocket…

December 24, 2011:  Seeing some temporary friends after a failed attempt to go to a midnight mass, Cecile and I sat down with them for a drink at these makeshift bars in the Praca da Se in Salvador.  Not going over my two drink limit, yet I failed to realize the power of a Caipirinhas - a popular yet potent drink here in Brazil.

While sitting in the Plaza, the sharks (thieves) were circling us sardines (tourists).  It started with a kid walking up to the table and casually grabbing someone’s cigarettes and walking away…assuming that nobody was going to do anything – and, nobody did.  Next it was a dirty drug user asking for money standing around the table.  Oddly she leaned over my shoulder as she was reaching for some object on the table – remembering that I was happy at that moment that I don’t have hair in case she had a nice colony of lice living in her crusty unkempt hair.

Later that evening after getting back to the hostel, I was laying there replaying the night in my head and something accrued to me.  I normally don’t carry money in my top shirt pocket but tonight was the exception, holding it for Cecile when we went out.  Getting up and going to my shirt, I reached into my pocket and no money was in there except for perhaps the fecal residue from the woman’s fingers as she quickly slid them into my pocket.  I could do nothing but smile and say Merry Christmas because she was good.

I have not been so fortunate the past month.  It all started with my camera, then my computer and now this.  Even though events like this will add to my water cooler stories when I am working again 10+ hours days under the florescent lights, I just I hope this doesn’t become a new trend. 

I need more junk in my trunk

December 23, 2011:  Having something like vacation #8 within the past year, Cecile decided to visit me in Salvador during her two week Christmas break rather than fly back to France.  Picking her up at the airport she looked more like a mule going through customs than a tourist, as she was transporting candy, Christmas presents, Christmas movies, electronic equipment and 2 new cameras to name just a few things.  Looking at her backpack, 2/3 of the stuff she brought was mine and the other 1/3 was her traveling basics.

Shortly after her arrival, we left Salvador and spent a few days at Chapada Diamantina National Park.  Anytime spent in a national park in any country could not possibly be poor time or life management.  Not having a car and being at a National Park surely has its obvious drawbacks, restricting our plans to be organized and packaged.  Seeing some great rocks, trees, waterfalls and some amazing viewpoints, it was a refreshing and well needed break from the urine stained cobblestoned streets of Salvador.

On our last day, we spent the remaining time and little energy that we had left hiking to a natural stone waterslide.  Once there, we saw a pack of locals showing off as they quite effortlessly leaped into the dark blackish brown water from the large rocks that sat on the side of the river.  There was also an older guy in his Speedos that was quite entertaining as he would do pushups almost everywhere it seemed, trying to attract attention from the ladies – getting more discreet laughs than women ogling him.  Right after one of Mr. Speedos many pushup sessions, a tourist half his size mocked him doing some porn star like pushups, dropping his head up and down as he simulated humping the ground.  It would have been worth a few friendly punches from Mr. Speedos, but it was taken well. 

Watching everyone all afternoon sliding down the natural rock slide made it look easy – look easy.  Walking up to the top I became confused on where to go down.  Losing my footing, I began to slide toward a small but rocky pit – the only one on the whole entire slide.  Spreading my legs as wide as a dirty whore, my feet couldn’t catch the sides as I dropped into it banging my toe pretty badly.  This was not a good start but when I actually did begin moving forward, I sat on my hands to make up for the lack of junk in my trunk as I launched it down the slide and into the water.   It was fun, but only a “one time” fun. 

Traveling to Hell by bus? if so, bring a jacket.

December 15, 2011:  I had a decent game of human pinball going on this morning as I bounced from the right to left side of the bus, attempting to get photos of Chapada dos Diamontes National Park while passing it at over 110+ km per hour.  There were so many nice rock formations and lush green foliage that covered hill after hill, it excites me that I will be coming back here in a few short days to explore it more fully.

The farther I traveled into the Brazilian interior the past few weeks, the more I noticed that the leg room on the buses have been steadily decreasing.  Surely I am not getting taller, so I am wondering if it is because the people are getting shorter or if the bus companies are simply trying to fit an extra row of seats in.
 
This 27 hour bus ride from Perinopolis to Salvador was another trip to strengthen my thoughts about why a conductor of a bus keeps the interior temperature so brutally cold.  When you no longer feel your hands and the bitter air in the cabin is clouding your thoughts, you’re obviously not going to have as much energy to be unruly when you are on the borderline of suffering from hypothermia. 

Mental note #273:  Bring jacket, hat and gloves for all future bus travel…no matter if I am traveling to the equator or to even Hell itself - the ride there would also be just as cold.

I am already hated and it has only been a mere 3 hours

December 12, 2011:  Right after arriving in the beautiful colonial town of Perinopolis, I grabbed my camera and went out to explore.  As I approached the outskirts of town, I noticed that the yellow brick road was transforming into a questionable looking path as it was consumed by the forest of the unknown.  With plenty of time to explore this part of town tomorrow, I chose to turn around. 

The dogs I passed earlier who gave me a little backtalk decided to be more difficult upon my return.   Walking past them I looked straight ahead, trying not to look at them while attempting to ignore their growls and savaged barks.  Coming at me quickly with their full set of exposed teeth –  I separated us with my camera bag as one came a mere few inches from sinking its teeth into my ankles.  I yelled “No – No – No” as I side stepped trying to get away, hoping that someone would call off their dogs. 

Leaving my camera bag on the ground between us gave me an extra second or two as I lunged to grab a farming tool, that I ironically remembered was there from the first time I passed the area.  About 5 feet long, this tool was transformed into an unofficial dog bat.  I now had the reach like Michael Jordan and a potential swing like Babe Ruth.  “Batters Up” I thought, as I was now the one in control of the situation…in which the dogs also knew. 

The dogs didn’t deserve a whack to the head, but it was my turn to put a little fear in them since I was at my breaking point with bad dogs.  Doing a check swing I went after one of the dogs as he peeled out, trying to get away.  Hiding between some loose farming equipment, I stuck the tool in between to fish him out - crying as if I hit him. 

A group of spectators from inside a nearby house wearing kung fu outfits, pleaded for me not to hurt the dog, looking at me as if I was the bad person.  I yelled at them to watch their dog in English not caring if they understood what I said.  Picking up my camera bag, I began to walk back up the street.

While walking away, a woman who must have just seen the end of the drama that took place approached me speaking so fast that I could not translate very well.  She was clearly not happy with me telling me to go back to my country while doing this jester, making two V’s with her fingers and smacking them together (later researching this jester, comfirming my thoughts that it was an insult).  I apologized and tried to explain what happened in Spanish, but I am assuming that she only saw me cornering the dog and heard the dog’s cry. 

The whole time walking back, I can see how living in a small town could be a small problem.  I am already hated and it has only been a mere 3 hours. 

If you want breast milk…meow

December 12, 2011:  While on this train heading to the main bus terminal in Brasilia, I noticed a Brazilian woman sitting in the corner with her husband and their adorable 4 year old daughter.  Wired on sugar she was waving around her toy bubble gun being cute, saying something in Portuguese that I didn’t understand.  Climbing all over her mom like she was a jungle gym she got a smackdown – immobilizing her for only a few brief minute or two.

Dropping into her moms lap, I saw that the girl was imitating a kitten.  “Meooooow – meow – meow,” she goes.  Then I noticed she was trying to pull up her mom’s shirt, thinking that the girl is now pretending to be a kitten being fed.  But…seconds later, her mom’s shirt goes up as the girl goes under, attaching her mouth onto her mom’s breast for a refreshing mid-morning drink of warm milk at body temperature.

Once finished, the little girl seemed to quickly crave chocolate, grabbing a big chuck of it from her father on the floor next to them.  Now this is my question:  Don’t you think the girl should have eaten the chocolate before drinking her mother’s breast milk, instead of after? 

Hard lesson about computer security

December 11, 2011:  When traveling to Sao Jorge, 220km north of Brasilia, my intent was to see the Chapada Dos Veadeiros National Park for a few days.  I was not interested much about the falls or the canyons even though they were beautiful.  I came in search for maned wolves and giant anteaters.  I never thought that my trip here would also involve an unsuspected crash course about computer security.

I happened to give someone access to my computer for under 30 seconds which changed everything.  I can’t blame it on him…I gave him everything he needed to be breach my privacy, so it was purely my “lack of thinking” on my part.  After I realized what was happening, I then remembered that I had items on my computer that I didn’t want people to see besides the obvious such as journals and a small collection of donkey porn. 

My mind ran like an engine with its throttle stuck wide open and an unlimited amount of fuel.  I seemed to spend days deleting files and changing passwords staying up until the wee hours of the morning.  I mentally play out 1,020 scenarios on what might happen with what I had on my computer and 345 of them were not good.  I learned a lesson…when you give someone something, don’t be mad if they take it.

When at the national park I tried to enjoy being out in nature but mentally, my mind was not 100% there – not even 20% there.  Only behind the camera I was able to forget – explaining the loads of photos that I took of nothing.

Meeting a group of amazing people at a pizza place in town, they seemed to take me in for a few days - which was a perfect distraction to this temporary issue.

Perhaps driving a local bus in not his true calling

December 5, 2011:  When you have so much grass and open areas between the buildings, this gives the public bus drivers the opportunity to get up to great speeds.  Today I was showed how a full-sized Mercedes Benz bus could take a corner at high speeds without flipping.  The angle that the bus reached was beyond normal…thinking that we were going to flip as I grabbed onto the bar and instinctively got into a wider stance as the people in the aisles became a human wave going to one side of the bus grabbing what they could to prevent a human bus pile.  Within this spilt second or two or three…I had my whole emergency plan worked out when I thought the bus was going over.

My smile was big as I scanned the bus after successfully taking the curve, observing the others reactions to see if that was a normal turn or an extraordinary turn. They too were smiling looking around in amazement with the buses performance and driving skills of the mad man behind the wheel.  Even the hardened military boys in their uniforms that I thought might not be able to smile, cracked a big smile.

I think there are bus races somewhere in this world…perhaps driving a local bus in not the true calling for this man.

Drive by shooting in Brasilia

December 4, 2011:  Is there such a thing as a city having too much grass?  I always thought not since once a park is gone and a building takes its place, there is no getting it back.  But after my visit to Brasilia…I might have to rethink that thought.

Brasilia is the Federal Capital of Brazil that was created in the 60’s from scratch, taking a mere 41 months to build.  Since most of the interesting buildings are thousands upon thousands of big steps apart for me and 3 times that for someone who is vertically challenged, it was suggested by my friends that I take a tour bus.  Seeing a double-decker tour bus rolling around an empty parking lot, I paid the guide some money and that was all it took to become an official member for the next 2 hours, 3 minutes and 46 seconds. 

The speakers on the bus that pumped out factual recordings between stops could have put someone with insomnia asleep in 10 seconds flat.  Given about 6 - 15 minutes at each point of interest, we raced around Brasilia to take as many brainless photos as we possibly could in the limited amount of time given.  For the interesting spots passed without stopping, we would dash from side to side of the bus, hanging our cameras out the window, quickly shooting up the places as if we were doing a drive by shooting.

By the end of the tour I was showing signs of dehydration due to the unexpected mid-afternoon workout that entailed window to window sprints and stair climbers for every time I entered and exited the double-decker bus.  I knew that it was important to get hydrated as quickly as possible before intravenous fluid replacement at a hospital became an expensive necessity.  Lucky for me, we just so happened to be dropped off near a Burger King when the tour was over. 

Even though I am 108% against fast-food restaurants, Burger King is the only fast-food restaurant in South America that I am aware of that has free refills for up to 30 minutes after your purchase - so this was obviously the best choice for my health and well being.  In 30 minutes I downed 5 cups of soda looking as if I was an alcoholic stepping off the wagon – but in my case…a sodaholic stepping off the wagon.

For some very very very strange reason, it seemed that I had a problem with dehydration my entire trip in Brasilia, trying to visit Burger King at least once a day to help me maintain my fluids.  I would like to thank you Burger King for being there when I needed you.

I thanked God today for what I don’t have…

December 2, 2011:  Today I noted a pattern that I don’t seem to be thanking God enough for everything that I don’t have.  Instead I seem to be thanking him for what I do have, such as good health, a wonderful family, millions of pesos and other things.  So today I thanked God for my lagging sense of smell. 

I spent 20 hours on a bus to Brasilia that had a toilet that was either filled to the brim or hasn’t been emptied for days.  Only the women seemed to be the upset about it as the men just casually sat back letting them do the complaining.  This is could be because woman at a reproductive age are scientifically better than men at identifying specific smells in much lower concentrations…in this case being fecal matter.

Stopping at the bus company’s repair shop, a man entered the bus that had about half his butt crack exposed.  This had me thinking that he must have been a plumber, though I don’t know if he knew much about plumbing.  He was more like a magician as he waved the magic bottle of deodorizer spreading over half of it around the bus and walah – the smell magically disappeared for…20 minutes.

A Paparazzi and his trusty sidekick

December 2, 2011:  Hours before hitting the road to try to hitchhike to the Northern Pantanal, I happened to be at the perfect place at the perfect time.  This helped land me private transportation and a room that I didn’t have to share with perhaps mangier backpackers than myself at a lodge in the Pantanal.  The tour operator / posada owner originally quoted me 2,000 Reals ($1123 USD) for a 4 nights / 5 days trip, but I ended up paying 550 Reals ($308 USD) due to him needing money that he didn’t have to pay a debt in which a man was in-route to collect.  He had to make a choice and it was quite simple…perhaps two broken kneecaps or a happy backpacker.    

The lodge was great and it was a relief not to have a drunkard for a guide such as I did in the Southern Pantanal.  He kept me busy from sunrise to sunset exploring the surrounding area.  I was so exhausted by the third day; I was sort of disappointed that my guide didn’t know about South American time – meaning, showing up for an activity 30 – 45 minutes late.  If anything, he was showed up early for almost everything not letting me have a moments rest.  By just looking at my guide, you wouldn’t suspect it, but his eyes were like the Bionic Man – seeing everything.  Even though he did not speak English it was not a problem since he understood my Spanish well enough for us to communicate. 

Before arriving, I was determined to cross paths with a tapir and an anteater.  Seeing one of the two, I left satisfied.  In addition to seeing a Tapir, I even saw a Duggar sized family of Giant Otters, a king vulture, all sorts of different species of monkeys, some capybaras and birds of all shapes and sizes with impossible to remember names.

Having some time to myself my last afternoon at the lodge, I left and went for a hike with the owner’s dog who wanted to join me.  He was pure entertainment as I watched his vertical jumps of fear and how he would run away from every noise no matter the size.  On our hike we located some Capuchin monkeys.  The beefy one with no neck either didn’t like the dog and me being so close, or it was that he didn’t like his photo taken as he quickly made his way down the tree, looking as if he was some movie star ready to smack around a paparazzi and his trusty sidekick.  I felt at that moment that I should stop taking photos as I rapidly backed up.  Still coming down the tree, I was hoping he was going for the dog and not me, but his was looking directly at me.  Fortunately for…the…monkey, he stopping mid-truck on the tree – to be more specific, that was 3.23 feet from the ground.

I had not broken any of my personal records on this tour, for example such as for my biggest fish caught, or my fastest run on a midget horse, until I was able to visit a gigantic observation tower overlooking the Pantanal…alone. Here I broke my previous record for “highest pee” when I showered the trees below laughing as I was doing this and thinking, “When am I going to grow up?”