BRAZILIAN MISADVENTURE

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I first visited Brazil in 1979 as part of a six month around-the-world trip. Except for a short side trip from Argentina to the Brazilian side of Iguassu Falls in 1989, it would be 20 years before we would return to Brazil.

In July of 1999, we flew to Rio, and took a chance on Varig again to fly us around the country. (A couple of years later, the airline filed for bankruptcy). We first went to the Northern and Southern Pantanal where we stayed at two upscale lodges – the Pousada Araras in the north, and the Pousada Caiman in the south.

The Pantanal in Southwestern Brazil is the largest wetland area in the world. Many people who travel to Brazil head right for the Amazon in hopes of seeing wildlife. The wildlife is definitely there, but it is very hard to see. Most Amazonian wildlife sticks to the jungle canopy, hundreds of feet from the ground.

It is actually in the Pantanal where one stands the best chance at getting a look at some of Brazil’s incredible wildlife, This is especially true in the dry season – July, August and September when water becomes scarce and animals begin to congregate around the remaining waterholes.

Night drives are especially rewarding. Large pools of water are completely filled with Spectacled Caiman. When the headlights are turned on the pool, it lights up with thousands of eyes – a really unique and spectacular sight. I saw a number of Giant Anteaters on night drives – two of them were mothers carrying babies on their backs.

What I remember most about the Pantanal, however, and perhaps about Brazil itself, were the Toco Toucans foraging in the papaya trees right outside our room, and the incredible Hyacinth Macaws that seemed to be everywhere.

After leaving the Pantanal, we continued on to the Chapada dos Guimaraes – an interesting geologic area where we were able to watch Scarlet Macaws soaring past sheer cliffs.

We then flew from Campo Grande to Brasilia and then on to Salvador de Bahia, an interesting colonial city that many people consider to be their favorite city in Brazil. The city has a mainly black population, an interesting old center, a distinctive and unique cuisine, and a culture that is different from that of the rest of Brazil. We then spent a few days at Praia do Forte, a beautiful beach area located a short distance from Salvador.

Our last stop was the Amazonian metropolis of Manaus where we stayed at the incredible Ariau Jungle Tower located three hours up the Rio Negro from the city. The Rio Negro itself was quite a sight. Clear and inky black, the river was so wide that you could rarely see either bank. Except for the color of the water, you could have been in the Atlantic Ocean. The only sign of life l noticed was the occasional breaching of an Amazon Dolphin or two.

There was a fair amount of resident wildlife around the tower, and while the friendly troop of wooly monkeys were mildly diverting, I’d have to say that the highpoint of our jungle experience was that we were able to secure a unit with air conditioning. Failing in this, I would have had to arrange an early return to Manaus. The temperature was in the 90’s and the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Night time brought no relief – it fact, I think it got hotter.

The fishing was actually better than the wildlife watching. You could catch Red Bellied Piranhas one after another. No bait was necessary – just a bare hook.

We returned to Rio and spent several days at a nice boutique hotel on Avenida Atlantica. We then decided it might be a good idea to visit Parati – a beautiful and dramatic colonial village a few hours down the coast from Rio.

Although, I had driven extensively around Mexico, Central America, Venezuela, Chile and Argentina, I was reluctant to rent a car in Brazil. Brazil, especially the area around Rio, can get very rough. The traffic is terrible, the roads are problematic, and there had been a epidemic of highway robberies and carjackings. But I figured – “What the hell – it’s only a few hours”.

I think my main concern at the time was carjacking. Standing at the side of a Brazilian highway in my underwear had limited appeal, and I planned to take every measure I could to avoid it.

I noted that the most direct route to Parati ran directly through the center of Rio. But I decided that this might not be the safest alternative. With Parati being directly on the coast, I figured it with be reasonable to try to skirt the main part of the city and travel along the coast. As long as I kept the coast to my left, I would be OK – right?

We walked to the car rental company, a few blocks from our hotel, picked up the car, and swung out toward the coastal road. We eventually left the built-up part of the city and emerged into a rural area. We had been driving for a little more than an hour when I began to lose track of the coast. I had no doubt that my experienced nose would point me in the right direction, but after about another hour, we appeared to be entering an urban area. After a while, we were driving on a multilane highway with what appeared to be a vast shanty town running along either side. There were no exits or off ramps from this road, not that I would have taken one if there had been one available.

We also started to feel the heat. In fact, it got so hot that we both had to hang our heads out the window to get relief. The temperture was approaching 100 degrees and, of course, the car was not air-conditioned. Who needs air conditioning in the middle of winter? It soon became apparent that we were heading back into Rio – and through the worst part of it – the real bowels. Soon we were approaching the city center and my wife had started to make threatening gestures. We junk the expedition, or return to the rental agency to acquire a better car with air-conditioning. Otherwise she planned to strangle me. Soon we were in the Copacabana area, located the car company and exchanged the car.

It was getting late and we really needed to proceed to Parati by the most direct route. As I mentioned, this would take us through the bowels of this very dangerous city. We set out along the beach road, passing Flamengo Beach, site of the famous Hotel Gloria, the old colonial hotel where we had stayed during our first visit twenty years before. Then something strange happened. The car just stopped in the middle of the road. And it wouldn’t restart.

Being stuck in the middle of a busy urban highway, and fearing a collision at any time, we had no choice but to abandon the car and try to get off the road. I remember standing at the side of that road in 100 degree heat, and staring through the haze at Christ the Redeemer. What were we to do? We could expect no help from Him.

What happened next proved to me that there are still a few good people left in the world. A middle-aged Brazilian man dressed in a business suit approached us and asked us in English what our problem was. As soon as we explained our plight, he ushered us to a nearby gas station and got on the phone with the car company. He seemed to be agitated and I could imagine him saying something like “How could you stick a couple of innocent tourists with a defective car!”

Less than ten minutes later, a replacement car arrived on the scene. The nice man helped us transfer our luggage, and we thanked him for basically saving our skins. We were then back on our way. We survived downtown Rio and ended up on a pretty, if rough, coastal road. It was starting to get late, so we didn’t have much opportunity to enjoy the scenery. About three hours into the drive, it started to get dark. We were then about an hour from Parati according to my calculations.

We were sailing along smoothly and looking forward to checking in at the Porto Parati – the best hotel in town. The road was full of potholes and virtually unilluminated, but I was doing a good job at swerving around these. And then disaster struck. I slammed into a deep pot hole with my right front tire and the sickening sound and rattle of a blowout then ensued. By this time, it was pitch dark.

I pulled the car over and assessed our situation. We were stuck on a stretch of road that had recently been flooded and felt a little soggy. Naturally, we hadn’t bothered to find out how to use the jack. It was pitch dark and, of course, we had no proper flashlight – this was supposed to be a day trip, right? Our Portuguese hadn’t improved during the day and even if it had, there was no one around to ask for help.

What I did have was a penlight. This is a small flash light about the size of a pen that Ophthalmologists use to check pupillary responses and ocular alignment. I had no choice but to get down on my belly in the mud and slide under the car to assess the situation. Mosquitos were swarming around me and I had no protection at all. I simply had to sacrifice my skin. I identified a likely place to position the jack. We got into the trunk and found the jack with the help of the penlight. I got down in the mud again and managed to get the jack positioned.

So now it was just a matter of finishing the job. I had changed flat tires before, but not in many years. For some reason, the lug nuts were fairly easy to loosen. I sensed that we were on our way – just a matter of having enough strength to move the jack handle. I made the first move and expected the front of the car to elevate an inch or two. My heart sank when I saw the jack itself sink an inch or two into the mud.

At that point, I decided to take a break, and consider alternatives. Spending the night at the side of a rural Brazilian road had very little to recommend it. But there was no sign of life for as far as I could see in either direction. I returned to the task at hand. Another pump of the jack handle produced the same result. The base of the jack was starting to disappear into the mud. But a few more strokes and the tide started to turn. The car suddenly started to rise. I must have hit bedrock. After another thirty minutes of struggling, we were back on our way.

Fortunately, Parati turned out to be less than five miles away and we soon pulled into the driveway of our pousada – exhausted and filthy. The man at the desk had the decency not to mention the fact that I was caked with mud, streaming with sweat, and covered with welts.

We slept soundly that night. Parati turned out to be unique and beautiful. We soon found out that many of the streets flood at high tide, but this just added to the maritime ambience. I have to believe that the citizens of Parati are big believers in global warming.

 Was it worth it in the end? Probably – but next time, I’ll take the bus!

Tags: amazon, bahia, boa, brazil, capuchin monkey, copacabana, hyacinth macaw, ipanema, jungle, macaw, manaus, pantanal, parati, pelourinho, piranha, pousada, rio, rio de janeiro, rio negro, saki monkey, salvador, scarlett macaw, sloth, squirrel monkey, swamp, toco toucan, toucan, wetland, wooly monkey