Bountiful Luck

I am madly in love with Humboldt County.   Arcata is  a wonderful town full of fantastic people, beautiful old victorians, bi-weekly farmer’s market’s, gorgeous views of the bay, open farmland and pastures in almost every neighborhood, and tons of mom and pop shops all within walking distance.   The whole county is a cluster of fantastic small towns, each with it’s own charms and offerings.

one of the awesome veggie stands at the plaza farmer’s market where Pat and I went to buy peaches, kale, eggs, tomatoes, and eggplant today. Mmmm…!

Since we’ve arrived this place has treated us to endless luck:

(1) As I mentioned in the last blog, Kari and Brent have been incredible hosts, excellent friends, and great resources.   We also managed to land a to-die-for apartment in an old victorian house for well under market value.

The Arcata marsh, a beautiful running/birdwatching/walking/relaxing spot almost in Brent and Kari’s backyard.

(2) Our first weekend here, we hit the garage sales for furniture.   We had nothing, save for Pat’s roll-top desk and a lazy boy recliner.   What do we need?   Anything.   Everything.   Tables, chairs, bed, couches, lamps, desk, plants, pots, pans, plates, cups, bookshelves… you name it.   Unexpected events turned our route around backwards, and we ended up at our first ever estate-sale just as it was starting.   We really clicked with the women hosting the sale, and for $105 we got an almost-new bed for two, floor lamp, dresser, full-length mirror, kitchen supplies, coffee table, five-foot-tall corn plant,  political maps of every continent, great posters, towels, linens, and gorgeous wine glasses.

The beach near a house out in one of the tiny country towns where we went to buy a bookshelf. This adorable retired couple gave us a tour of their entire place complete with barns, stables, indoor pond, and a century plant blooming for it’s first and only time in it’s life.

(3) What’s more: when we went to pick up the stuff days later, they also gave us a vacuum cleaner, a bag of cleaning supplies, and an old movie poster.   Off-hand, one of the women asked if we knew anyone interested in coaching children’s gymnastics.   Now, ten days and one interview  later, I am employed by the city of Arcata as a gymnastics instructor!   I’m so excited.   The kids are all under seven, and I get the idea it’s more obstacle courses than cartwheels.   I start on Wednesday. I can’t wait!

(4) We attended our first-ever auction, complete with chili-dogs, nachos, and yummy chocolate milk shakes.   The crowd was definitely the country-music blasting type, and Pat and I felt right at home.   Over a period of four hours, we managed to accumulate $100 worth of stuff (bidding is so exciting!).   We ended up with three stackable tables, an extremely comfortable couch and matching chair, a bookshelf, a desk for me ($5!!!), tiled coffee table, a box of books, and a desk chair for Pat.

(5) Finally, last weekend, I cracked the garage sales bright and early – we managed to get a matching oak table (with leaves) and gorgeous chairs for $80!   I can’t believe our luck.   We were also given a free case of wine and a wine rack.   Today, a woman sold us a beautiful set of dinner plates, tea plates, and bowls (9 each) from an old catering business for $8!

All in all, we’ve furnished our entire beautiful apartment with mostly high-quailty furniture for under $300.   I’m eternally grateful.

Other great news: we are starting a garden, and I am so excited.   It’s my second gardening experience, and the first time I’ll have my very own vegetables growing right outside my front door.   I’m thrilled to be able to grow things through the winter.   We’ve got our starts going indoors, and our project for the rest of the day is to get the garden soil prepped.   We are going to plant carrots, snow peas, snap peas, red onions, walla walla onions, chives (green onions), kohlrabi, cilantro, Italian kale, spinach, cabbage, broccoli, and  dwarf blue kale.   We’ve also got some oregano and basil going on the window-sill.   Mmm, mmm, good!

Pat is taking 18 credits this term in the hopes that he can hammer out his last requirements as quickly as possible and be done with it.   Iraq and a change of major have set him back a little farther than we’d hoped.   On the brighter side, he’s got a job in the Veteran’s Affairs office on campus, and is applying to be a building supervisor for the city.   He’s got a pretty good shot at the latter, so we should be set between our jobs, savings, tuition assistance, and G.I. bill.   After our month of travelling at Christmas, I will get serious about getting a full-time job and/or researching Master’s programs.   I thought about getting my MBA, but the program here isn’t quite what I’m looking for.   I’m looking into grant writing, event planning, outdoor leadership positions, and nutritionist possibilities, among other things.   Who knows?!

Homeless in Humboldt County

We rolled into Arcata mid-afternoon on Monday.   I hated it almost immediately.   I was expecting a Eugene-like town full of wonderful old trees, pretty flower gardens, and streets buzzing with energy.   This place had the feel of an tiny town in Iowa where people sit around and watch paint dry.   Trees exist, but they weren’t the towering wonders we had in mind.   The streets were dead, save for random pedestrians, and I immediately craved the energy I had been expecting.   Disappointment started to seep in, and I wondered if maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew.   Three years in this place?   Oh god.

Downtown Arcata (where you form your first impression) is in the flatlands between the hills and the ocean, which explains why downtown isn’t a forest (to my dismay).

I had been making cell-phone calls to rental ad phone numbers the whole way, so we swung by city hall to pick up a map to lead us on our immediate house-hunting expedition.   We had exactly 48 hours to find a house, apply, and unload the Uhaul before Pat started orientation on Thursday.   After spending the day driving or walking by dump after dump, my heart sunk lower and lower as we peered in each dirty window at ten-year-old carpet, teeny-tiny kitchens with peeling laminated cupboards and yellowed cracking linoleum.   After a depressing day, we headed for Kari and Brent’s place.

(Tangent {copied from another blog, so I apologize to those who read both}):   Back at the coal mine there is an awesome day-shift mechanic from Gillette, Luther.   We are both bus riders, and chat all the time.   Luther gets wind that I’m quitting and asks me about future plans, so I spew out my most recent passion which is to get into nutrition while in Arcata and earn a degree that will give me the credentials to teach Americans what their government won’t about food.   Luther’s says his niece lives in California and is a nutritionist for a school district out there, so I get her number.   I am expecting a pleasant, mid-thirties with children, average person, but instead I get the amazing, incredibly enthusiastic, high-spirited, friendly Kari on the other end of the line.   Not only does she live and work in California in the field that I am interested in going into, not only does she have tons of great advice and connections, but she also live in ARCATA with her boyfriend Brent and is going to let us shower and cook at her house for the time we are homeless in Humboldt County.   They are really fun, amazing people, and we spent all Wednesday night having some excellent chow at a local brewery and checking out the downtown Arcata scene, complete with a bar that makes me feel very much at home with 80% country music for offer on the jukebox located directly beneath their largest trophy, an elk mount…)

Anyway… Tuesday we tried a new angle and went to the university for help.   After messing around with Pat’s laptop for an hour while I thumbed through the paper ads, Drew, the res-net genius, let us into a password-free computer lab.   Unfortunately, we found similar slim pickin’s online, including one lady who used her email instead of phone number in the add.   I emailed her with my number and let her know that telephone was our only real means of contact.   Twenty minutes later, when we were trying to convince Melissa and Maya to let us be their 3rd bedroom roommates, the email woman, Carolyn,  called.   She wanted to set up a showing for her 2bd. Victorian apartment.   I was less enthusiastic.   So far, we had cancelled all showings once we drove by for a preview.   I told her we’d drive by today, and if we liked it, we’d set up the showing like she wanted on the following day.   Meanwhile Melissa and Maya were hinting that they weren’t that interested in getting two roommates for the price of one, but Maya needed a ride downtown.   We had planned to go uptown first, but rearranged our schedule for her.   Miracle of miracles!   When we drove by to assess whether or not we’d want a showing, Carolyn was there checking in with the tenants who were on their way out!   She showed us around our dream apartment; an incredibly spacious two bedroom with a cute living room, large bedrooms, a huge kitchen complete with hardwood floors, beautiful new wooden cupboards, and new appliances, washer/dryer, huge bathroom, new carpet, an amazing landscaped yard full of blackberries, raspberries, apple trees and more, all for $300 under market value!   I offered her our references on the spot, she wrote out a make-shift application, and we dropped them off later that night.   She called us in the morning to offer us tenency!!

When we went to sign papers Wednesday morning, the only hiccup was that instead of getting to move in over the weekend before school started, we’d have to wait until the following Wednesday.   Eeek!   We were really hoping to be out of Kari and Brent’s hair before Kari’s five person family rolled into town on Thursday, but no luck.   Fortunately, we could off-load the Uhaul in the house’s storage space.   We packed it all in the room  and then  spent three nights sleeping in the Uhaul and three more nights in our tent pitched in Brent and Kari’s backyard, bless their hearts.

Friday was a riot.   After orientation, we met the fam (Kari’s) and headed to the deserted, amazing, Samoa beach where the ocean raged against the sandy beach while we huddled around our mini bon-fire, shared beers, and toasted marshmellows.   We got to meet two of Kari’s good friends, Michelle and Vicki, and Michelle’s dog.   We  told stories until the first round of sleepiness set in, and then headed home!

Where There’s a Will…

Most people would plan, in advance, not to tax themselves in the ways we have upon return from Brazil.   However, we’re not most people.

Friday morning at 9:00 a.m. Mountain Time, we touched down at DIA and dialed up my Grandmother waiting in the traffic queue to come pick us up (thank you, thank you, thank you!).   We’ve been so jet lagged and travel worn these past few months that it’s more a permanent state of being for us rather than something to recover from.   So, in the highest spirits possible, we grabbed breakfast at the most American breakfast spot we can find and finally had some familiar chow.   After gathering all our belongings and spending a last-minute-hour on the internet making sure there wasn’t a to-die-for four-door on the Denver market that should be immediately purchased by yours-truly (I’m in the market for a car for those of you who didn’t know.   Long story.), we began our six-hour zombie drive up to Gillette in time to arrive early enough to shower and still get dinner at Humphrey’s.   Mmmm!!

For some reason, I guess it’s that we grew up with most of these people and also that Patch and I are outgoing individuals, we know a bartender at almost all the main haunts in Gillette.   Nice when you look 17 and forget your I.D., which of course, I did.   So, we plopped down at the bar to order the first round, and before we know it, our man Preston is serving up the celebration shots and we’ve committed to hanging around the bar after dinner with the fam.   As is common for Gillette, mecca of energy production and construction, we meet a few traveling businessmen at the bar and start waxing poetic about the nostalgia that accompanies a Gillette-upbringing.   We’re telling them about the fantastic Karaoke when we realize, “Oh. my. god.   Tonight is Friday Karaoke at Eastside!”   Of course we’re going, so we invite them along with us, and they do the cool thing and come!   Other high-school pals home for the summer join in, and before we know it, too many rounds are coming our way.   C’est la vie!

We danced the night away, sang our hearts out, and returned home to crash.   This was our first night in a completely dark room (usually there are city lights or yard lights or hallway lights sneaking in the windows) and the heat from the day had settled in the room.   We woke up in the middle of the night sweating, frantic, and confused in a room full of towers of half-packed boxes and stuff waiting to be packed.

Me (somewhat upset): “Pat!   Where are we!?”

Pat:   “I don’t know.   I’m trying to find the light, but I keep bumping into stuff.”

Me:   “Where are we?!   Turn the light on right now!”

Pat:   “I’m trying.   I can’t find it.”

Me: (almost crying and confused by my raging fever):   “It’s so hot.   I have to get out of here!”

Pat: (turns on the light)

Jema: (stumbles to door and bursts into the living room welcoming the cool air)

Unfortunately, we greeted the next morning with hangovers and big plans full of the necessary banking errands, etc.   By afternoon we’d done everything except load the Uhaul, so when the family started showing up for the goodbye-barbecue, we enlisted their help.   Many hands make light work, so we had the Uhaul loaded and locked about fifteen minutes before one of the typical, raging, Wyoming afternoon thunderstorms rolled through and soaked everything.

We did the smart thing that night.   We stayed home and let our friends drink most the beer, so getting up at seven to finish loading bits and pieces wasn’t as much of a challenge as the previous day.   Thanks only to Paul (Pat’s dad), we were ready to leave in time to make our lunch date in Casper with my sister, nephew, and grandparents.   We said sad goodbyes and set out across the prairie.

Goodbye little hometown! I will miss you when I’m gone. See you at Christmas!

Lunch at a Mexican restaurant (a ethnic food that, sadly, is virtually non-existent in Brazil) was heaven with great company and good conversation.   We made Salt Lake by 9:00, and Reno shortly after sun-up.   The mountains we had to cross in Northern California are gorgeous, and a real pain-in-the-rear with a huge, long-bed pick-up and Uhaul combo.   We rolled into Arcata in the mid-afternoon glad to be well on our way to consistent, and somewhat predictable daily lives!

Advice for the Novice Traveler

Throughout our weeks in Brazil, “Patch” and I took to collecting tid bits of advice that we will apply to future travels and, of course, use to help others learn from our mistakes.   As follows:

(1) Make sure to take everything you’re told with a grain of salt, and follow your instincts.   Example A: In Sao Paulo, all the locals told us how dangerous the Centro (where we were staying) was, but we never felt threatened.   Yes, it is the degenerate hangout for the homeless, addicted, etc., but it’s also the historic part of the city and home to office buildings and restaurants galore.   Example B: We’ve learned that many South Americans (not just Brazilians) would rather give you a wrong answer than tell you they don’t know.   So before you set out on a three hour journey, get a second opinion (at least).

(2) Food.   You will miss knowing what to expect at a restaurant/food stand  – everything from when to pay, where to order, how to order, and what’s on the menu is different.   Thank goodness, for those first two weeks which are the biggest culture shock, we had plenty of clif bars, cashews, and chocolate (thanks Grandma!) to get us by.   However, there were many a time when we wish we had more.   So the more non-perishable stuff from home you can drag along with you (and then save for the rough times) the happier you will be.

(3) Jeans – You’ll get a little dirty, but as long as you don’t plan on wild partying in the cities, you really only need one pair.   Bring some back up athletic nylon pants or the pants-zip-off-into-shorts-combo, but anything else is just extra pounds to lug around with you.   Also, the deeper the front pockets, the less likely you are to get your pockets picked.

(4) Pictures, pictures, pictures! – both locals and other travelers want to know about your life, and pictures are worth a thousand words.   I had a few coal mine pics along with me left in my pack from my last travel excursion, but I would have loved to have pictures of friends and family and life back home.   Having a picture of your home (both inside and out) is also a valuable aid in explaining how different things are (if you’re an American).   We don’t build walls around our houses, and sidewalk design doesn’t vary by address.

(5) Toys – If you like kids as much as I do, pack around a few small toys with you to hand  out on long bus rides or to a family you might get to know in a plaza somewhere.

(6) Sunflower seeds – this is probably a personal one, but thanks to the coal mine, I am permanently addicted to these things.   In a pinch, I think they’re great for curbing hunger, plus they’re a little taste of home!

(7) Exchange rates – It would be logical to assume that if one dollar buys you two reais, and one dollar buys you eight bolivianos, then one reais should buy you four bolivianos.   This is only true in banks and official places.   On borders and what not, good luck!   In the example above, one reais only bought three bolivianos, so it was better to change reais into dollars and then into bolivianos, then go directly from reais to bolivianos.   All currency has a local market value, so do the math before you hand over your bucks!

(8) Don’t buy “Footprint.”   I’m not saying “Footprint” is a bad guide book company, but I am saying they’re not a good company.   So far “Lonely Planet” has delivered time and time again.   Sure there are a few mistakes here and there – that’s true for every guide book.   But, unless you’re looking for a guide where each chapter seems to be written in the same style as an eighth-grade book-report, “Footprint” is not for you.   “Lonely Planet” is wonderfully organized, cleverly written, and will get you excited about your trip and help you prioritize your time.

That’s all for now!   Happy Travels!

Full Circle

Our last night-bus in Brazil was the relatively short but very very very curvaceous road along the coast back to Sao Paulo.   It was so strange and refreshing to segue slowly into familiarity; Casa de Pao do Queijo, Terminal Tiete, Sao Paulo subway, Sao Paulo centro… no guesswork, no figuring!   We turned up at the front door of our beloved Hotel  Joamar only to find the front door locked and the front desk unattended – scary at the dark hour of 5:30 a.m.   We dialed the number from a nearby payphone, and our favorite desk man came to the door and broke the news: they were completely booked and had a reservations list fifty rooms long.   He sent us to a place down the street, not quite as nice, but at that point all we wanted was a bed!

That night was one of the best nights of the whole trip.   Our friend Leonardo, whom we met the first time around in Sao Paulo, had invited us to a dinner at his house with  he and his mother who works at a local restaurant and is an excellent cook.   He’s a chemist for a scent company, so he entertained us with explanation of how different scents are created complete with a box-full of vials of spearmint, cherry, lime, etc.   Their apartment is atop a hill in the city, and their 11th floor window provides a spectacular view – really amazing.

Dinner really was superb, and the chocolate mousse for desert was beyond delectable.   The whole evening was full of boisterous conversation 1/2 English and 1/2 Portuguese with Pat and Leonardo’s mother at opposite ends of the language spectrum.   We had a fantastic time and were dropped right at the front of our hotel by Leonardo himself with a lembranca (a gift to remember the giver) in hand – how sweet!

The next day, we  returned to CCAA, the place that prepared us for the Portuguese-speaking world, to reunite with our wonderful maestro, Fabiano.   He treated us to a wonderful lunch that kept us full well past dinner at a Brazilian culinary highlight – the churrascaria.   An incredible salad bar starts you off while a constant onslaught of rotisseried meats are brough round and round to your table.   Also note-worthy are the pasta counter (mix and match pasta’s, sauces, toppings, and ingredients), the hot line, and the to-die-for dessert cart.

We met Edinei (the man we initially met at the bookstore our third day in the city) for dinner that night at a “Shopping” (they don’t call them malls) in a high profile food court.   We were still stuffed from lunch, so we  shared stories over sushi.   He’s such a fun guy!

Our last day in Brazil, we lazed the morning away and then did some shopping.   I found some awesome jeans and a great pair of shoes.   The shoe sales woman thought I was nuts buying a pair of men’s shoes for myself, but she was happy to sell them to me.   I am now sporting a new pair of 70’s suede velcro kicks!   Thanks to our persistent last-minute-madness (Actually, I think I have infected Pat with my high-speed life-style), we nearly missed the bus shuttle to the airport.   Thank goodness we didn’t, because we flew out the day after those U.S. bound Brit planes were shut down on account of terrorism, and lines at the airport were abominable.   We’re talking at least 1/2 a football  field beyond the normal maze in front of every single counter.   Argh!

However, we made it safe and sound to Houston and onto Denver where we had our first American meal in two and a half months with my Grandmother at a great local diner.   Mmmmm!

Now we have made the move to Arcata, but I think I might start a new journal to chronicle that adventure!

Heaven On Earth

Probably the best decision we made so far on this trip was to skip Rio de Janiero, opting for some extra time on Ihla Grande,   a deserted tropical island covered in 100 square miles of Atlantic rain forest!

I kind of feel like a schmuck, coming to a country like this and skipping all the hub-bub.   After all, most people would say you haven ´t really been to Brazil unless you ´ve been to the biggest, most happening, most talked about cities in the nation.   But I can ´t say I wouldn ´t do the same thing again.   Neither Pat nor myself really care too much for big cities.   I mean, I love to visit, but if I ´m short on time, a huge, expensive, screaming, bustling city is at the bottom of my priority list.   So, while we didn ´t thoroughly explore Rio de Janiero, Salvador, Belem, Manaus (the Paris of the Tropics), or any of the other pulsating towns of Brazil, instead we were romanticized by Lencois, Bonito, Blumenau, Morretes, Puerto Iguazu, Uyuni, Jacuma, and Ilha Grande!

Ilha Grande was the perfect end to our amazing trip.   We arrived at night under a nearly-full moon, the outline of the island ´s steep mountains making it easy to see why this had once been a pirate ´s lair.   With the help of Daniel and his new wife greeting incoming tourists at the pier, we were escorted to a hostel and given a great room where we indulged in showers and some long overdue sleep in a real bed!

The next morning, after a delicious breakfast spread, tons of relaxing, and lunch at a pub, we got our gear together for a trip to one of the island ´s hundreded of beaches.   We plunked down in the sand under the sun near a freshwater river streaming into the clear, emerald sea.   We didn ´t lounge long.   After exploring the length of the beach, and finding some amazing black sand, we set  out for some swimming before beginning the timeless beach-project of burying one another in the sand.   We had a blast working fast and furiously against the tide, Pat engineering wave blockers while I dug out a hole big enough  to tuck his large frame into.

Once the sun had sunk behind the hills, we headed back for showers and a laid-back night on the town.   We stopped at the agency near our pousada to check prices on excursions, and got signed up for a hawaiian  out-rigger canoe trip.   She gave up coupons for free caipirinhas  (my favorite!) at a nearby creperia, so, after convincing Pat that crepes can be filled with more than strawberries and chocolate, we had an amazing dinner.   We topped it off with a stroll around town and carmelized strawberries dipped in chocolate.   MMm!!

The Hawaiian out-rigger canoe was an awesome adventure.   Although Pat ´s hips were too wide for the boat, we still had fun paddling around the island with our guide, an Italian couple, and another Brazilian, stopping to snorkel in the amazing, clear, greenish-blue waters full of all sorts of fish  (the zebra fish were my favorite) before landing on a white-sand beach.   We hauled the (heavy, heavy!) canoe onshore and headed up into the thick  rainforest to the Witch ´s Waterfall tucked high on a mountain slope.   It took a little convincing, but finally I joined the crowd and slid into the ice-cold spring water and up under the waterfall where the mountain water pounded my body under the thick forest canopy.   Our guide was right!   It really was  refreshing!

After we ´d had our fill, we headed back to the beach, where we once again strapped on our snorkels.   Snorkelling among the rocks was absolutely thrilling.   My heart pounded as I was surrounded by a giant school of flashing-silver fish swimming past.   Zebra fish and rock fish darted in and out of the mussel, coral, and plant covered rocks while I tried desperately not to get pounded into those rocks by the ever-present surf.   The highlight was the starfish and sandollar I spotted on the ocean floor.   I was swimming along, and suddenly, 25 feet down, I saw a huge white sand-dollar (the size of a tea plate), and right next to it, the biggest starfish I ´d ever seen.   About the size of your average desk-top computer screen.   I kept my eyes peeled, and I spotted at least seven more before we reluctantly pulled ourselves out of the clear, emerald green waters to begin our return journey.

That evening, we made the glorious mistake of going to an all-you-can  eat pizza buffet.   The slices are tiny, which means you get to try all twenty flavors without being insanely stuffed.   My favorite was the dessert variety of bananas and cinnamon-sugar.   Incredible!   The Portuguesa (their version of supreme with even more ingredients) and the garlic I would also highly recommend.   The problem, however, is the “all-you-can eat”  part.   Especially if you ´re an American, it ´s really “more-than-you-can-eat” (after all, you want to get your money ´s worth, don ´t you?),  which always makes for an uncomfortable evening.   Bellies over-full, we found a phone so I could try again to figure out what ´s going on with Ben Carver, and finally hiked the first stretch of a trail up into the mountains under the spooky, moonlit, rainforest canopy.

Now, here we are on the mainland awaiting our bus to our final destination!   I am both sad to be leaving, and thrilled to be going home.   We ´ve met so many wonderful people, seen so many amazing places, done so many incredible things, and learned lessons you can never pick up in a classroom.   We ´ve definitely honed our long-term travelling skills for next time, and are developing an aresenal of hints and tips.

Right now, we look forward to  a few days of meals and evenings with friends before we dive headlong into the tornado of moving and setting up shop 1,000 miles from wonderful Wyoming!

Just Another Day In Paradise

Our arrival in Lencois, just like our arrivals everywhere, came after some very long bus trips.   Finding a place to stay turned out to be more of a challenge than we thought, but it worked out for the best as we ended up camping out back of this fabulous pousada built into the hillside of bedrock.   Beautiful!   And we paid a mere $12 to have a place to string our hammocks for two nights and eat a buffet style, all-you-can eat breakfast every morning.   I think this town might be my new favorite place!

The following morning we went on an absolutely amazing trip full of caves, waterfalls, beautiful swimming holes, majestic canyons, and a hike to a mind-blowing overlook.   We even got to go snorkeling in an underground cave!   It was so exciting and spooky!   It ´s hard to have a favorite part, but I think the last cave we went to, with formations that Jewel/Wind Cave (in the Black Hills) couldn ´t dream of rivaling, had to have been the most diverse part of the day.

Just getting to the cave was beautiful.   We started out  crossing open farmland, and then descended into a storybook forest with tree trunks that wound and twisted like snakes.   It reminded me of  Devil ´s Tower in the late fall or early spring when all the trees are bare and  everything is sort of eerily quiet and peaceful.   Finally the forest thickened, and suddenly we were going down, down, down through a cool jungle of thick foliage full of funnel-shaped spider  nests (the non-aggressive kind, our guide assured us).   Then entrance to the cave was more than majestic, and all of the formations were mind blowing.   The stalactites and stalagmites were hundreds and thousands of years old, and  there was even a formation that looked almost exactly like Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone!

The most interesting thing I learned that day had nothing to do with caves, waterfalls, or beautiful scenery, though.   The whole area (especially a hundred years ago, but even today some huge fields still remain) is covered in coffee plants.   I ´d never seen coffee at it ´s source before, and was surprised to learn that a coffee berry is a red colored fruit (when it ´s ripe) filled with a sweet pulp surrounding two “beans” – almost white in color.   The beans are then dried and roasted and ground to make the world ´s favorite cup o ´  joe.   Also interesting were the banana tree windbreaks – they work marvelously… and I wonder if they affect the flavor of the coffee?

That night, we indulged in the wonderful, regional street food – acajaré.   Acajare is “fritters made from a batter of skinned, puréed beige beans, ground dried shrimp (which taste more like beef jerky), ginger and onion.   They are fried in dende palm oil and typically embellished with a stuffing of vatapa – a puree of dried shrimp, cashews, peanuts, bread, coconut milk, dried malgueta peppers, cilantro, and ginger.”   MMMMMMmmmm!   And only $.75!

We also had tapioca – which has nothing to do with fish eyes and is not weird at all, as it ´s reputation in the U.S. would have you believe.   Tapioca is just the flour made from ground manioc root.   It ´s “weird” in the U.S. because it ´s sold in “ball” form… little pea-sized clumps of flower that you add to things like pudding, etc.   Here, they just sift some flour into a pan, which congeals into an omlette.   Then you pick your filling, sweet or salty (i.e. ham and cheese, coconut and chocolate, banana and cinnamon), and they hand it over for $.50.   This place is heaven!

On our last day in Lencois, we slept in a little, indulged again in the wonderful breakfast buffett, and lounged the morning away reading great books.   In the afternoon, we finally found a healthy place to eat and had an amazing sandwich with a really simply but fancy side salad that I managed to get the recipe for.   Then we went on a three mile hike along a ridge and down into a canyon where there is a gorgeous swimming hole surrounded by amazing rocky cliffs and complete with a 75 foot natural waterslide!   We spent the whole afternoon swimming around the pool, working up the nerve to go higher and higher on the slide, and diving off the cliffs.   Life just doesn ´t get any better than this!

We returned to the pousada to play cards, drink wine, and eat the fabulous Bahian cheese (locally produced) before meeting another American and taking him to the streets to try the acajaré and the tapioca.   Finally, after a refreshing shower and more card games we packed up for the overnight bus back to Salvador.   I couldn ´t have asked for better, and I can ´t wait to go back!

How To Pee on a Bus: For Women

It came to me on the Salvador to Rio de Janiero, 30 hour, $108 bus ride, that many of you men out there are unpractised and, in fact, entirely unaware of the female art of peeing-on-a-bus.

I shall provide a brief introduction:

  1. Watch the road.   If you are in a particularly curvy area, you ´re in trouble.
  2. Open the door to the hot, humid, stinky bathroom, and try to enter without touching anything.
  3. Immediately adopt a wide stance, feet a bit farther than shoulder width apart, while you lock the door and begin preparations.
  4. Quickly procure toilet paper.   Hopefully you brought your own from the stash you always keep in your pocket, but if you ´re out, cringe as you go for the bathroom ´s roll stuffed under plastic panels covered with god-knows-what.   Get a wad  ready and stuff it in your jacket.   You ´ll need both hands.    Note: while you are procuring toilet paper, if the bus takes any especially sharp corners, be prepared to steady yourself against the wall opposite the toilet    (i.e. furthest from the general male splash radius).
  5. Unzip and pull your pants quickly past the knees to keep them from touching the toilet when you  assume the position.
  6. Pull your sleeves down over your hands to avoid touching the unavoidably disgusting squatting handles with your bare hands.
  7. Grasp both handles firmly, adopt an even wider stance, and slowly lower yourself over the toilet.   We do not sit.   We hover.   Prepare yourself for being thrown to either the left or right.   You have mere inches on either side before you slam into the disgusting urine covered wall or the equally disgusting spring-loaded toilet seat which you did not put down because you wouldn ´t dream of sitting on it, which is required to hold it in place.
  8. Wait until the  bus is going at a relatively straight and consistent pace  (i.e. no corners, no braking).   Side note: never pee in town.     You ´re guaranteed to be slammed into a urine covered object or even pee on yourself.   Don ´t risk it.
  9. Control the flow of urine such that you can stop peeing IMMEDIATELY if the bus were to suddenly corner hard or slam on its brakes.   Doing so will take you three times as long to pee, but it ´s worth it.
  10. Once the bladder has breathed its sigh of relief, and you ´re relatively sure all the drippage has finished, remove yourself from the cubicle of death immediately above the toilet and, with your left hand, fish out your toilet paper and proceed as usual.
  11. Once dry, perform the tricky feat of opening the garbage can with the gravity based foot lever and dropping your rubbish  inside.
  12. Then, either left handed while gripping the handle with your right hand, or with both hands while leaning your shoulder up against the wall, hike your knickers back up  and quickly zip.
  13. Unlock the door, and push hard.   Get out of there as quick as you can!

You may also need to learn How to Use the Scoop (Toilets in a Foreign Land).

Good Luck!  ♣

The Race is On

On the very off chance that you didn ´t already know, I ´m crazy, and it takes someone equally crazy to keep up with me.

After the mad dash to the rodoviária (bus station) in Belem where we hopped a last-minute bus to Fortaleza (not where we really wanted to go, but we missed the longer-distance bus), we spent  the rest of the day, all night, and most of the next day on the bus.   The first 15 hours were on a Bolivian quality road, but, thank god, on a Brazilian bus (air conditioning, padded seats, and leg room.   Heaven!).   The last 15 hours were uneventful, if not mind numbing.

When we got to Fortaleza, we tracked down tickets for our intended destination (Natal) where we hoped to take a dune buggy tour “with emotion” (i.e. the dune of death, ´vertical descent ´, etc.) on the tallest sand dunes in the world.   When we got there, however, the forecast of rain combined with nothing else to do in Natal made Jacumã the next destination.   We hopped a bus to the nearest tranportation hub in a town an hour away, and three hours later we were finally on our last bus ride (in a bus without shocks) headed for paradise after 48 hours of mind numbing and body cramping bus rides.   Who else would do this to themselves?

We didn ´t have very specific directions for our intended hotel (surprise, surprise), so we kept our eye out for the “viking ship painted on the water tower of Hotel Viking overlooking Jacumã.”   After several stops and random stints into different neighborhoods, Pat spotted it and said, “Oh… I think I see the Viking ship.”   The young woman next to us, a very helpful teenager, said, “Vee-keeng-guh?   Vee-keeng-guh?” to which we enthusiastically replied in the affirmative.   Apparently we had missed our stop, because she stood up and yelled, “Driver! Driver!   Stop the bus!!”   It sounds funnier in Portuguese, because “driver” is “moh-toe-rees-tah (motorista),”   So she really said, “Moh-toe-reeeeeeeeeeeeeeees-tah!   Moe-toe-reeeeeeeeeeees-tah!”   The bus ground to a halt, and we managed to lug our bags out the back door and make it through the turnstyle in a timely manner.   (You must go through the turnstyle.   Manually turning it to add a number to the counter is not allowed.   You must move your body through the turnstyle to exit the bus.   God knows why).

As soon as we got withing 200 feet of Hotel Viking, we knew this place must have changed since the guide book wrote a nice hotel for $13 a night.   This place was a full-blown theme hotel complete with tiered pools with a dragon winding through them before coming to rest as a fountain/waterfall at the head of the largest pool.   We decided to check the price just in case, and lucky us… thanks to their winter special, we managed to swing a room at the very tippy top of our price range.   So, we got to spent three days and two nights in a luxurious hotel room complete with fancy bathroom, air-conditioning, mini-bar, and television.   Very posh.

We spent a good three hours recuperating from our die-hard bus travels before venturing out for dinner.   We didn ´t realize that since it ´s “winter” here (i.e drops below 60 at night), the town would be wiped out.   We tried to find all the restaurants in our guide book, but they were all shut down.   We settled on a pizzaria/restuarant that had the crab-coconut soup that I ´ve been dying to try on the menu.   However, as per the usual, they never have what they say they have on the menu, so I ended up with rice and beans and spent the last 30 minutes of our meal watching Pat eat his garlic shrimp that were way more work and money than they were worth.   Peel and eat should be avoided if you ´re at all hungry.   The upside was the excellent caipirinhas… a $.75 cocktail made with local liquor, limes, sugar, and ice that both of us think is to-die-for.

We crashed hard when we got back to the hotel, and welcomed the following morning with the hotel ´s fantastic buffet breakfast.   Once the clouds rolled out, we headed to the beach.   In the off season, there are no taxi ´s or minibusses, so we braved the task of walking the 5 miles to the beach instead of paying $25 to have the hotel run us around.   After two miles, I was sick of walking on the highway surrounded in forest with no ocean view.   We had talked about hitching, but chickened out every chance we got.   Finally, I had enough and swore I ´d stick my thumb out for the next pick-up that happened along.   Finally a VW van came into view, and I mustered up enough courage to stick my thumb out.   To my surprise, they pulled over!   As they got closer, I saw it was a pickup with a flat front, much like a VW… strange because you ´d never see it in the U.S.   I asked it they were going to Tambaba (our beach of choice), and they told us to hop in.   So, we gratefully climbed over the sides of the truck (only 1 ft. tall) and sat down for the rest of the ride up and down hills and around corners.   Thank god we weren ´t walking!

The beach we were headed to is divided in two by a cliff with a staircase bridge leading up and over to Brazil ´s only nude beach in the northeast.   Praia Tambaba (Tambaba Beach) was insanely gorgeous with beautiful rock outcroppings providing amazing scenery full of crashing waves all day long.

A view of the cliffs of Tambaba where we spent most of our beach time and fried like Lobsters.

A view of the Tambaba beach at high tide from the tops of the cliffs overlooking this little paradise.

The ocean was warm, but refreshing, and we ended up spending the whole day with Altanir and Muceio, the couple that picked us up, sharing beers, garlic shrimp, vienna sausages, mandarins, and peanuts.   Altanir showed us how to dig naturally occuring zinc out of the cliff and use it as sunscreen, and Muceio kept us entertained, despite the language barrier.   We failed to properly utilize sunscreen (we applied after our first dip in the ocean), and my back, shoulders, and upper bum are so burnt that I can ´t comfortably wear my backpack.   Poor Pat, with his Swedish blood, turned into a lobster.   I hope the pictures we took that night of our burns come out.   Lesson learned.

When we left the beach, Altanir and Muceio took us to another beach just so we ´d get to see it before we left, and then drove us by the lot they ´d just purchased where they plan to build a pousada in the near future.   They were renting a friend ´s bungalow for the week, so we went to the friend ´s house where a dinner party was in full swing.   We met an awesome couple from São Paulo, and another couple that had just returned to South America after living in Miami in the states for 11 years (a Brazilian and and Argentinian).   They got  us excited about investment opportunities in the area, so now Pat and I are daydreaming about  owning beach front  real estate with sky-rocketing property value in Brazil.

My favorite beach in Jacum… called Coqueirinho, I think.

The next morning, before we left  Jacumã, Muceio and Altanir took us to another beautiful beach where a river runs into the ocean.   We were too sunburned to  partake in the swimming, but the views were gorgeous, and instead we  shared fries, crab and coconut stew (finally!), a whole crab served in  coconut milk, and fish stew (better than the crab, I must admit) to finish off the session.   We jumped back in the truck and headed for the bus stop, but passed the bus on the main road on the  way back into  town.    Our initial reaction was disappointment at the prospect of having to wait another hour  for the next bus, but Altanir and Muceio ´s first reaction was to flag the bus  down for us!   I love this way of life!   So, the bus and all it ´s passengers patiently waited alongside the road as we loaded our bags and said our  goodbyes.   I love Jacumã!

Ants In Your Pants

So, the Onze de Maio (the boat we picked up in Manaus to carry us the 1000 miles down the Amazon to the Atlantic Ocean) was definitely sub-par compared to the other boat, AlmTE Alfredo Zanys, that took us from Porto Velho to Manaus.

Typical cargo/passenger boat on the Amazon.

On the upside, we met an awesome couple from San Fransisco.   They kept us entertained and were great company for the four day journey.   But before I get into that… first the horrors.

1) The whistle.   Yes, the whistle.   Morning, noon, and night, (I mean breakfast, lunch, and dinner) the staff wandered the boat with whistles letting everyone know it was time to come and eat.   And by “morning” I mean 5:30 a.m.

2) The mess hall cum bunk area.   Instead of a fixed area for dining 12 at a time like we had on the boat previous, this boat had tables seating 30 each that slid up the poles to store in the ceiling when it wasn ´t meal time.   You don ´t learn this until after you ´ve strung your hammock and the boat has departed.   So, the poor folks who had the misfortune of stringing in the table area had no choice but to get up at 5:30 every morning to tie their hammocks out of the way so the tables could be lowered.   To top it off, the tables came to rest directly above their luggage, which meant they had no access to their bags during meal times, not to mention the dirty feet and lots of footprints once the tables were put away.

3) Loopy hammocks.   There are four bars running parallel to one another from which to string your hammocks.   To cram in as many people as possible, as folks arrived, the staff ran around laying the smack-down on anyone trying to skip more than a bar (and therefore avoid chronic spine curvature).   If the ends of your hammock aren ´t far enough apart, (especially if you ´re 6 ´7″ Pat), there is absolutely no way to sleep comfortable.   Luckily we pulled a fast one.

4) Fewer bathrooms.   Our second boat had double the people and half the bathrooms.   Not a good combination.   One time I had to pee so bad, and the bathrooms were occupied for an hour straight.   I honestly considered crawling up on the rail and peeing off the side of the boat.

5) Bathrooms for little people only.   Poor Pat couldn ´t stand up straight, and I could barely turn around without scraping against the wall.   A problem because of…

6) sub-par cleanliness.   The bathrooms were a focal point of quickly accumulating ickiness.

7) Non-flushing toilets.   They were designed to flush, but somehow the pV=nRT concept has escaped these people.   So… the liquid waste would flush, but the solids stayed until the staff would pour giant buckets of river water into the bowl.   Splashy splash.   EWWWWW.

8) Busy bow areas – the previous boat had all the staircases between levels at the stern, but this one had them at the bow, ruining a great hang-out area.

9) Crowded upper deck.   The lifeboats (hard plastic “rafts”) took up most of the railing space, and chairs lined the rest under a canopy with no head room even for us shorties.

10) Sub-par meals, and not all you can eat.   More like all you can eat before your neighbor.   And people weren ´t considerate of others down the line.   At our last meal, the woman who got the meat dish first picked out every single vegetable for herself.   She actually dug through until she had found and captured every last pototato and carrot.   I wished I knew enough Portuguese to give her a piece of my mind.

11) Windy, windy, windy.   It was much tougher to read and write in the wind of the open water on this boat.   Boo.

Enough complaining.   Despite all the dissappointments, we still had a ton of fun cruising down the river.   Like I said, John and Rebecca were awesome, and between planning the rest of our trip, having great conversations, lounging in our hammocks, napping, and sharing some cerveja (beer) on the upper deck, we had an incredible experience.

Rebecca went to school at Humboldt (where Pat is going in the fall) for three years, so she was able to give us some good advice as well as hook us up with some people living in Humboldt  County.   Among the many insightful conversations we had, one of the best as far as journal topics are concerned, is safety.   I realized, when were were stopped in a port of a fairly large city, I would actually be more afraid and more worried about my baggage in the U.S. than I am here.   We decided that might have something to do with the U.S. being such a violence-prone culture.

Random tidbits that I am too tired to organize:

1) Long ago, the Amazon was an ancient inland sea covering almost half of South America.   Once it became the Amazon river, it flowed to the Pacific until the Andes rose up however-many thousands of years ago.   Then the water broke through the other side and started its present-day flow to the Atlantic.   The river is HUGE at some points (feels like you ´re boating across an enormous lake) and so narrow at other places that you can see tiny fruits hanging from trees on shore.

2) When we stopped in Santarem (the 1/2 way port) I bought a coconut that I opened by pounding on the dock (a trick I learned in Bolivia) only to be told by standers-by that it was rotten.   Damn the luck.   I learned to always have them opened at the market.

3) The red sand and cliffs of the Amazon are one of the most striking parts of the area.

4) Noctural spiders… who knew?   Each night I ´d go to bed dubiously eyeing my several eight-legged bunkmates only to find them gone in the morning.

5) Skimpy skimpy skimpy… I suppose because of the heat (although it gets this hot in the U.S., too) people dress like women at the Sturgis Rally year round.   It ´s just a bit surprising, that ´s all.   I ´m used to conservative tank tops instead of small bits of cloth.

6) Beef by the side, not the pound.   Meat from animals is not packaged before shipping here.   At one port, we watched them haul on a minimum of seven freshly  quartered animals (some beef, the other too small to be beef) and stick it in the boat ´s fridge.   Just strange to see things at the beginning instead of the end (supermarket).

7) Insects of death – a giant flying ant/wasp and a  flying beetle as big as a half-dollar were the entemological highlights of the trip.

8) Forest dwellers hitching a ride… they ´d paddle out in their canoes and as the boat zoomed by, they ´d use a three to five foot metal rod to snag one of the tires cum bumper blocks on the side of the boat.   Incredible!

9) seven-year-old  Tiger Woods look-alike obsessed with Pat… This kid had a killer smile and couldn ´t quit grinning every time we caught his eye.   His dad told Pat at one of our last meals that he wanted to get a picture of the two of them together.   Cute!

When we got to Belem, we said our goodbyes to John and Rebecca, checked into the cheapest hotel in the book, and beelined for the laundromat where the dryers are gas powered and so hot that our clothes came out smelling like burnt synthetic (my underware).   Oh well!   Belem is a beautiful city, and we found a delicious Italian place where we shared a plate of pesto pasta.   Mmmmmm!

After laundry, Pat and I split up so I could take care of my post office chores (I promised my former co-workers I ´d send a letter).   The post office is SO different here.   They don ´t sell envelopes, rubber cement is the seal of choice, and apparently people don ´t send much mail.   I was sent into a room with a bank of chairs facing two desks at the head of the room.   It was entirely empty save for one man behind a desk who swathed my envelope in $7.50 worth of stamps and sent me on my way.

I met up with Pat, and we saw the city sights… old forts, old buildings, and a very new port station… clean and air-conditioned… full of tons of expensive restaurants.   We indulged in the local flavors of ice cream (açai… a berry from the Amazon, and tapioca… quite good) before finding a really friendly internet cafe.   They didn ´t charge Pat for his hour of internet time because his computer quit and wouldn ´t start again.   A rare thing to do here!

After a dinner full of the typical problems (just because it ´s on the menu, don ´t expect them to actually serve it!) we headed for another internet session before returning to our hotel only to find our bed infested with ants.   The night attendant said he couldn ´t get us a new room until the morning, so we packed up and slipped out to a place that cost twice as much but offered four times the comfort.

The next morning, I asked the woman at the front desk to call the bus station and find out departure times for our next destination (Fortaleza), but she refused to call.   She was certain they left at 7:00 a.m. (too late for that one!) and 8:00 p.m.   Just to be sure, we went to our favorite internet cafe, and they found out for us that one of the only busses had left 15 minutes ago.   We decided to head to the station ourselves.   We approached a ticket counter with our destination advertised.   I couldn ´t understand the attendent ´s response about when the next departure was, so I finally asked him to write it down.   Agora.   (Now.)   Oh!   We bought tickets and ran through the terminal, down the stairs, through security, and jumped on the bus just in time.   Phew!