Cockroach on steroids!

November 27, 2011:  Sitting in my room in Cuiaba waiting for a group to form so that I can go to the Northern Pantanal at a group rate, not a private tour…I see a beast of a cockroach on steroids on the wall!  Running to my new bottle SBP insecticide…I didn’t have time to read the directions, cracking the childproof nozzle, spraying him as I was trying to shower him with love.  The beast was now on the move and seemed quite angry. With all of its legs pumping at full speed, he sprinted across the wall.  Following him as I prepared a shot when he was directly above me, I sprayed the son-of-a-snitch and there it went…the insecticide went right in my eye.  Not yet burning…I am figuring that I didn’t get enough in my eye to do and severe damage. 

The cockroach was still on the run as it was now vertical, showing me that cockroaches will live till the end of time because they can drink and even bathe in poison and be unfazed.  Now above me bed, I was concerned that he was going to drop or jump into my unopened arms.  I was committed to killing him.  Following him again with the now broken childproof nozzle, he continued to build speed.  Still unscathed by the heavy dousing, he got closer, closer, closer to my bed then - POOF!  He disappeared.  What the?!  I looked everywhere…through my sheets, under my bed, everywhere.  With my can of insecticide drawn…I could not find him.  It was as if he was Harry Houdini and magically disappeared.  Then, I saw a little hole after some extensive searching along the floor boards.  “No way” I thought.  Could he? 

The Great Heist!

November 25, 2011:  Getting on my last bus of the 17+ hour journey to Cuiaba from Bonito, I pulled out my Kindle to study some Spanish…but, I then I decided to get some sleep instead.  After putting my Kindle under my jacket so nobody could take it out of my hands when I slept, I prepared my area to sleep.

Checking the under the seats there was about a 1.5 inch gap between the foot rest and  the floor of the people behind me, to prevent any wandering hands from entering my backpack.  This was good since it meant that I didn’t have to sleep with my all my electronic equipment on my lap, assuring a better night sleep.  I still slide a shoulder strap around my leg, dropped down the other leg ramp on the empty seat next to me AND I put my leg down on the side of my leg ramp to block side entry. 

All of this is not done due to paranoia, but it is to counter what happened to other backpackers and to reduce the odds of it happening to me.  South America is a war zone between tourists and thieves…we are the pray and unfortunately can easily be identified.

What happened next is still not very clear but this is what I can remember.  In the middle of the night, I had an awaken dream that someone was hovering over me and put something on my skin to put me into a deeper sleep.  I was so tired I could barely open my eyes and was unable to focus.  Wanting to come out of this middle point between sleeping and being awake, I couldn’t.  My body felt like every part weighed an unbelievable amount.  I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to go to back sleep but was also trying to fight it feeling that I was being robbed.  Not able to fight it any longer I fell back into a deep sleep.

Waking up in the morning, there was a beautiful sunrise.  Writing off what happened last night as a strange dream; I pulled my backpack out from under my seat to grab my camera I noticed my pack was on an angle and not directly underneath me.  With my strap still around my leg I assumed that I picked up my leg during the night.  Seeing that my bag was unzipped and after further inspection, my camera case was open - wondering if I left it open last night and it slide out of my backpack onto the floor.  I began to look under the seats for a loose camera I didn’t see it anywhere. 

After my thorough investigation…I accepted that I was stealthfully robbed from the seat behind me which was now empty.  The thief must have tried to fit it between the 1.5 inch crack while in its case, but due to it not fitting, they opened it up in complete darkness and then pulled it out.  They also got their hands on my international adapter to charge my electronics. 

I could only falsely smile since there was a lot more they could have stolen such as my SLR camera, computer and other items, but fortunately they were too big to fit through the cracks.  I still have 2 more cameras, but it is inconvenient and frustrating that I gave them an opportunity to steal my good midsized camera.  I even sewed some attachment on my backpack which 97% of the time, I have it locked.  But the day I didn’t do it…it happens.  They were good at what they do so in a way they deserved it because I feel I am also good as for keeping my equipment secure.

As for my strange dream…I thought about it a little more.  Could I have been drugged?  If so, why wouldn’t they have taken everything, not just what Mr. Tweezer hands could pull from under my seat?  Thus, I have decided that my awaken dream as just that.  I feel stupid for what I had happen, but I am sure there will be other stupid moments in my life.

Putain!

Coca-Cola Zero saves me from getting hypothermia

November 23, 2011:  If it wasn’t for the municipal park and the trip down the Rio da Prata, my past 6 days in the small town of Bonito might have been hard for me to justify if I only saw the mediocre waterfalls and caves.  I think a strategy of these tourist traps is to take some professional photos, invest in a good photo editor and then spend large sums of money on signage.

As we were driving away from my hostel to the Rio da Prata when it was too late to change my mind, I began to think…why am I paying to do the dead man’s float down a cold river for about an hour or two? What was I thinking? I HATE cold water and I am doing it without anyone pressuring me. I was relieved though when I arrived to the staging center, seeing that in addition to the goggles and snorkel, you are also given wetsuit.

I joined a group of 6 other Brazilian tourists, which were obviously not backpackers since not one person talked to anyone for the entire first half of the trip. I missed being with other backpackers today…I would do anything this moment to be asked the dreadful repetitive standardized backpacker questions.

A big big bottomed woman go to the fitting area for her equipment, I wondered if they were actually going to find something that fit her.  Exiting the fitting area a minute or two later, they actually had a wet suit over that gargantuan booty of hers.  Crazy on how elastic these wetsuits can be.

During the swim down the crystal clear Rio da Prata River, it was as if you were swimming in the world’s longest natural aquarium, being able to see hundreds and hundreds of fish for great distances.  I would have thought the water would have been safe to drink - if it wasn’t for what I did to prevent a medical emergency. 

I thankfully drank a whole 2 liter of Coke Zero the night before not knowing that is was going to help prevent me from getting a mild case of hypothermia today.  When my body began to uncontrollably shiver, I initially pushed out 0.75 liters of warm body fluid into my convenient urinal wetsuit following another 0.50 liters shortly after – saving the rest to regulate the interior temperature for the remaining swim. 

I couldn’t understand almost anything the guide said, so I lagged behind the others, playing a game of “monkey see monkey do.”  Since in Brazil, I am getting use to not talking very much – I suppose this goes for all of South America.  A lot of people that I been meeting lately don’t speak English or is just hiding it,  so I have been getting accustomed to being silent and for those who truly know me…I am a talking machine so this has been difficult. 

Tomorrow I am thinking about making it to the Cuiaba, the city right before the Northern Pantanal.  If the price it right, I will take a tour to the Pantanal.  If not…I will show some leg and hitchhike.

Years of anticipation...

November 19, 2011:  In 2005 I tore out article in the National Geographic, August 2005 issue about the Pantanal titled:  “Brazil’s Wild Wet.”   It was eventually stored it in my future trip file with no real thoughts that it was ever going to happen.  But, since I set off on this trip back in April of 2009 and after years of anticipation…it finally happened.

During the 6 hours it took to get to the lodge, I was so excited that I talked and talked like a little kid without taking breathes for long periods of time to the poor French guy that so kindly didn’t shut me up.  Coming here for 4 days with the hope of seeing 2 new animals (that includes birds), it was a safe bet that it was going to occur since this area is the world’s largest wetlands. According to Wikipedia it contains about 1000 bird species, 400 fish species, 300 mammalian species, 480 reptile species and over 9000 different subspecies of invertebrates.  I also read that the pantanal has one of the largest and healthiest Jaguar populations on earth.  This explains on how I saw 2 Jaguars on the second day during a boat trip! 

My guides were a couple of interesting characters.  One guide was a professional drunk that would drink excessively and then attempt to incompetently satisfy the list of activities that was promised by the company.  Yes, there is nothing like having a drunken tour guide during a hike stating how he could kill you and not get in trouble for anything due to tribal laws.  I thought that if he wanted a tip…there are other ways to say this.

The Toucan is definitely my favorite bird.  One day we saw 9 of them in a 10 minute span.  It was great to see a Toucan doing a battle in the sky for air supremacy with the smaller birds before hitting a tree to snatch some babies.  He was like a B-52 vs. some modern day assault helicopters.

We went for a horseback ride and…it has been awhile for me.  This one Israeli wanted to gallop (later finding out he has never rode a galloping horse) but I suggested that we didn’t do my feet being so big; one of them didn’t fit well in the stirrups.  Though eventually, he got what he wanted.  Toward the end of our trip the horses knew they were almost finished.  I felt the energy of my horse shooting through him as he began springing on his toes, excited and perhaps even feeling some sort of joy, scaring me as my grip on the saddle locked and my thighs almost broke his ribs as I squeezed tightly.  Then it happened.  One horses started to run and then all the horses seemed to begin to run…in all directions.  There was no pattern so it seemed…off the trail we went and into a field.   Yelling, “stop – stop – stop,” the horse didn’t even flinch, only now I realized the horse must not have understood English.

When getting back to the barn we ran right past the manager of our tour company and even the boss of the stable.  There was a large sign posted in the barn yet seeing a little bit too late...clearly stating in Portuguese and English, “…no Galloping or Trotting.”  Our drunken guide gave us permission earlier in the trip…but I see that in his drunken state, he was clearly mistaken. 

After the Jaguar sighting, I really didn’t care if I saw anything else.  I was completely satisfied and then it was just day 2 of this 4 day trip.  But, it didn’t stop there.  Animal after animal, bird after amazing bird, this trip easily exceeded my expectations.  I would have liked to stay longer but the drunken guide was a little too much for me.  My high level of fakeness toward he was becoming harder and harder for me to achieve.

Awkward moment

November 16, 2011:  I was picked up from the bus station from a man at a local tour agency to talk about a trip to the Pantanal and to stay at a nearby hotel.  I would not have gotten in the car with him if it wasn’t for the lady at the tourism office that suggested I speak to him.  Supporting some frightening tattoos with an ex-thug look, he was trying too hard to come across as friends.

When attempting to see me the trip he said that “The trip includes BLD” – hahahahahah he laughs extremely loud and for quite some time.  I did a courtesy laugh and he got serious, looking at me…”do you know what BLD means?”  No, I said.  He responded by saying, “Then why did you laugh?”  Umm…awkward moment as silence struck the room.

I ended up booking a tour with him anyhow since the price kept sliding lower and lower without me having to say anything.  It reached such a low amount, it really didn’t matter what I did there.  The best part is that…it includes BLD – ha – hee – ha.

Large amount of blood loss…

November 14, 2011:  I was woken up at 3:30am at my hostel in Paraty by a mosquito that infiltrated my protective net, eating me as would a black widow would eat her loved one.  Taking a large amount of blood loss, it would be nice to now know my blood type in case I needed to make an emergency trip to the hospital.  I had just enough strength to turn on my headlamp to locate the son of a…beast.  After several failed attempts, I was finally able to smash her frail body between my two elongated fingers.

I don’t know if this is a precursor to what is about to come when I visit the Pantanal but later in the day I was again attacked by mosquitoes but this time it was in the bathroom as it seemed to be a kamikaze suicide mission of multiple squadrons.  About 30 of them went airborne coming at me from all directions.  Getting backed up into the corner it was either “shight” or “flight.” 

I needed to go to the restroom so there was no option but to stay, smacking my hands in the bathroom consecutively so many times, the people outside probably thought I was reliving a childhood nursery rhymes, “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man.”  At the end of the battle, my hands looked as if I got into a fight by when seeing all the blood that was on them - assuming this was the blood of the mosquitoes’ previous victims arses as they would sit down on the toilet and get sodomized. 

My new favorite city of South America revealed!

November 11, 2011:  The past week I have moved out of Rio, which I must say is now listed as my favorite city in South America.  From the mountains, forests, beaches to clubs…there is something here for everyone.  If it wasn’t for having only a 6 month visa…I might have stayed a lot longer.
 

From Rio, I lugged it down to Isle Grande – reminding me how much I hate my backpack of bricks.  Making me look through it again for the 103^rd time trying to find something that I can throw out or give away – but I couldn’t find anything. 

Visiting an enormous amount of beaches, they all began to look the same as I took a boat around the entire island doing a beach marathon with a group of others, visiting each beach for about 10 -15 minutes - not even getting a t-shirt after completing.  With no cars being on this island except for emergency vehicles, I made it nice to be able to gorge yourself at the dessert carts then roll yourself to your hostel or nearest toilet without the worries of traffic.   

My inability to make plans landed me homeless after 3 nights since it was an unknown to me that a holiday weekend was approaching.  With a population of 3,603 people and with about 3,600 pousadas, there was no availability for mangy backpackers.

For 20 minute …me give you good time

November 4, 2011:  I didn’t think money could buy happiness…but today, it bought 20 minutes of short-term happiness.  I went hang gliding for my first time and it was an amazing bird-like experience.  Running off a wooden platform from a mountain, the air captured us and held us suspended in the sky overlooking the beauty of Rio, from the favelas to the beaches.  It was a surreal moment with my smile stuck onto my face like a detachable smile from the plastic toy, Mr. Potato Head…not moving. 

I needed to fill out a waver before sprinting off the cliff and I was asked about my blood type.  I am A+, or is it an A-?  Maybe I am B something?  If I need blood one day, I guess I could run into a problem giving them the wrong number.  It is sort of like the different types of motor oil I suppose.

After the hang gliding I felt like I could do anything – I did just run off a cliff and fly like a bird.  Still on my high, I thought I would explore the largest favela in South America on my own.  Not extremely smart from a potential insurance claim standpoint if I happened to get my camera or kindle stolen.

I did take some precautions, transferring my memory stick in my camera into a scrap piece of paper placing it into a pocket, them my credit card into a different pocket and finally I dispersed my cash into other pockets – yes, I have a lot of pockets on these pants.

I thought maybe, just maybe, I would look like a rare white local and blend in.  Sitting off to the side eating a pastel as I watch people go about their daily lives.  A little thugster not even 18 seconds later passes by staring at me with a big smile and gives me a big thumbs up.  Okay, either my clothes make me stand completely out or maybe there is just no such thing as a white local living in these favelas.