15 - Babes in Bikini-Land (Curitiba, Ilha do Mel)

Rio de Janeiro, BRAZIL - 07 october 2002

Argh… The lady at the Bolivian Consular informed me there was no status on my visa application yet. Maybe next week, maybe the week after.

I had to brace myself for the likely possiblity that I might not be able to enter Bolivia. I obtained her email contact so that I did not have to keep returning to Rio in order to check on the status. I would email her and return if my visa was approved.

The weather in Rio was up to 38°C today. It was much hotter than when I was here three weeks ago. Many women were strutting around in bikinis and men, bare-chested. It was interesting to see how casual attires were here in Rio. Even on the main streets, some people were walking around bare-footed and most were in flip-flops. Ah, beach culture…

Copacabana beach had mostly gorgeous stunners in dental-floss bikinis but truly, everyone in all shapes and sizes were decked out in bikinis and not necessarily at the beaches: they were shopping at the grocery stores, taking buses, etc… Mothers with children, grandmothers with grossly sagging skin, pregnant women in their third trimester (oh well, what else could they wear?), toddlers still not weaned from their pacifiers…

OK, I admit it. I caved. When in the country, you have to do what the natives do. So, I went and bought myself a present. My best beach days in Brazil may be over as I had already traveled down the coastline of Bahia state but I did not care.



Rio de Janeiro to Curitiba, BRAZIL - 08 october 2002

I did not want to stay in Rio for weeks, waiting and waiting. I wanted to visit other places in Brazil. But Brazil is immense. If I head off too far and, Insh’allah [‘God willing’ in Arabic], I DO get my Bolivian visa, I would have to double-back to Rio. I thought it through and decided to go to Curitiba tonight - only 12 hours away. For Brazil, that was a relatively short distance.

I went to visit the other famous mountain in Rio, to see the famous statue which looked like it was about to perform a triple-somersault dive from a spring-board.

In the tram that delivered us to the top of Corcovado was a group of Chinese tourists. They, as expected, were snapping pictures of themselves in the tram, outside the tram, and on the way up the steps to the Christ Redeemer at various so-called ‘view-points’.

Once in front of the about-to-perform-a-triple-somersault-dive Christ Redeemer, they, as truly expected, posed with their arms outstretched like they were about to perform a triple-somersault dive themselves. China-kitsch-photo-poses flash-back.

It was midday. Everywhere looked smoggy. But the view was still incredible. Like when I was on top of the Sugar Loaf Mountain, one could really appreciate the unique geographical location of Rio de Janeiro. We could see more of Rio from this locale actually. I felt a burst of joy in my heart.

I chatted with the group of Chinese tourists as a means to maintain the level of Mandarin (the highest I ever attained in my life, I think) I acquired after my 2-month stint there. Soon, true to their trigger-happy nature, they were snapping pictures WITH ME. I had inadvertently become part of their holiday snappies.



Curitiba, BRAZIL - 09 october 2002

Curitiba appeared rather unremarkable at first glance. The claim to fame for this city is the reputedly gorgeous train-ride down to the port town of Paranagua. I got myself a train-ticket for tomorrow.

Surprisingly, the lady at the Tourist Booth spoke English. Those working in the Tourist Information in Salvador (well, those I spoke to, at least) did not speak English and I had figured this lady did not either.

You know, if the person you are speaking to does not know English, he or she would look so pleased and touched by your faltering efforts to speak their language, he or she ignores the ruthless massacres done to their beloved mother tongue and beams at you with sincere delight and pride.

But if the person you are speaking to KNOWS English (but you did not know it yet) and you attempt to speak to them in their language, he or she looks at you with disgust, with scornful eyes, with an impatient countenance, with irritation and loathing, like you are the stupidest idiot in the world.

Yep, I got that latter look from lady at the Tourist Booth.

Curitiba was really unremarkable. All the way to the main shopping pedestrian malls, I saw unremarkable shops, very cheap unremarkable hair-dressers and unremarkable lanchonetes (eateries serving snacks), etc… Perversely, I kinda liked this place.



Curitiba to Ilha do Mel, BRAZIL - 10 october 2002

The train station was filled to the brim with excitable 15-year-old teenagers on school trips. Yeah, people at the P-R-I-M-E of their youth. Argh…

They were loud, disorderly, insolent. They disregarded all other passengers who had yet to board. They inconsiderately stood along the aisle of the wagon, enthusiastically snapping photos with this amigo and that. The rest of the passengers had to queue up behind them as the aisle was jammed.

At the first tunnel, they screamed their heads off. All of them. A few more decibels could drive you to wring their necks. All of theirs.

At the second tunnel, they screamed their heads off again and so on and so forth.

The best view could be seen from the left side of the train. I, unfortunately, was seated on the right side of the train. A train conductor spotted me, looking helplessly at the crowd converged on the left side of the train and beckoned me over. He offered me the store-room and I had the entire window to myself! Bless the train conductor!

As the most astonishing, breathtaking mountain sceneries swept over, my camera jammed and would not snap. I was left alternating between gasping at the view in front of me and cursing my darn camera.

You would imagine the teenagers would have worn off their enthusiasm by the thirteenth tunnel, 4 hours later, but no… there was still that ONE guy…

Once in Paranagua, I took the boat heading to Ilha do Mel at 3pm. Aside from seeing someone with a T-shirt declaring ILHA DO MEL in Caravelas and knowing that since it was right opposite Paranagua, I could head there after the train-ride, I really did not know much about it nor have any expectations from the island. It was just my excuse to crack open my bikini.

Boy, was I floored by the simple beauty and tranquility of the island. It was shaped like an ‘8’. The centre bit was entirely sand, horizon-to-horizon. It had no roads, no cars. Many walked around bare-footed. It was a great place to chill out. Muito tranquilo [Very tranquil].

A fellow boat passenger, Cathy from the USA, and I followed two ladies from the same boat to their pousada and settled ourselves in. Then, we walked along the beach right in front of the pousada, facing the open ocean all the way, to the fortress. The entire beach was flat and empty. We spotted three people in our 2-hour-long walk. We let the waves gently lap upon our feet. We stared constantly into the horizon. We heard only the sounds of the crashing waves. I was charmed beyond words by the island. I loved it here.



Ilha do Mel, BRAZIL - 11 october 2002

Throughout the entire night, I slept to the wonderful melody of the crashing waves. It was gorgeous. Places like these overwhelmed me with feelings.

The next morning, I headed out to the beach by myself and took a very slow walk to the fortress again. The magic here on this island made me enjoy my solitude, my connection with nature.

People usually headed out to beaches in their minimal beach-wear and carried as little as possible. I dragged my camera along. I was very inspired here. I wanted to be creative with my camera, photographing the beach from interesting angles. There was no one to disturb or distract me. I concentrated on looking out for objects that could express my feelings here. It was pure joy…

After hours at the beach and burning nicely, I returned to throw myself upon the delicious desserts prepared by the dessert chef, Meri, of my pousada. Heavenly. What a great place this was…



Ilha do Mel, BRAZIL - 12 october 2002

I slept at 9pm the night before and woke up at 9am this morning. 12 hours of fitful sleep. Gosh, sun-bathing by the beach yesterday really exhausted me. What a life! I attached myself to the hammock for a few more hours, reading my amorous and amoral book from the Brazilian author from Ilhéus, Jorge Amado - Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands, drinking in the fluid verses and poetry.

When I finally surgically detached myself from the hammock to go for a walk, I went dressed. Because with my slightly-burnt back, I did not fancy too much sun today. Gosh, I really regretted this move. It was the weekend. The entire island was filled to the brim with local Brazilians and everyone, naturally in teeny weeny, itsy bitsy swim-wear, stared at me as if I was diseased or something! I had never felt so self-conscious walking around fully-clothed in my life.



Ilha do Mel, BRAZIL - 13 october 2002

Cathy and I decided to walk to the Grutas on the other side of the island today. We had to climb through rocky headlands to get from one beach to another. We were unsure of our steps at some tricky spots and felt the rocks under our bare feet sharp and uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the local Brazilians had evolved to handle terrains like beaches and rocky headlands without problems. They constantly overtook us, traversing across beaches and running down the rocks with ease. We were humbly put into our place as mere tourists.

The caves were nothing much. We did not expect much anyway. It was just an excursion to another part of the island, instead of vegetating near our pousada again. The journey was the most effort we had put in since we arrived on the island. To get back, Cathy refused to walk and so we, the lazy tourists, chartered a speed-boat back to our side of the island. I wondered if I could shake off my recently-acquired languidness soon.



Ilha do Mel to Curitiba, BRAZIL - 14 october 2002

My eager return to Curitiba to get online was a disappointment. There was no reply from the Bolivian Consular. I decided to send them an email.

Well, here’s my two-cents’ worth on food in Brazil. Since I left Bahia state which had gorgeous food, food in Brazil seemed to me rather monotonous. Sure, there were the huge breakfast buffets served in my hostels. But except for more expensive restaurants with a larger variety, what were available in buffet-por-quilo [per kilo] restaurants were rice, spaghetti, beans, salad, badly-prepared beef and chicken. Fish would be a rare treat. Sauces appeared to be impossible to find. For lanchonetes, they always served the same greasy X-burger, X-egg, X-salada, X-bacon, etc… ‘Prato do Dia’ [Plate of the Day] was almost always rice with beans (I hate beans) and a piece of over-done beef or chicken.

In this quiet unassuming town of Curitiba, I encountered lanchonetes after lanchonetes, restaurantes after restaurantes, selling the same few selections over and over again. All I wanted was some variety in my diet.

I spotted some Chinese faces and veered near the restaurant to see if they sold Chinese food like what my cousins… well, THEIR cousins, in other parts of the world do. No, they sold the same X-burger, X-egg, X-salada, X-bacon, etc… I was a tad disappointed. Alright, I confess: I visited Chinese restaurants here and there pretending to be on a mission to see how Chinese food had been bastardised in other parts of the world. The truth is occasionally, I miss Chinese food and now was one of the occasions.


Curitiba to Campo Grande, BRAZIL - 15 october 2002

I finally received some news from the Bolivian Consular. My visa had been denied. VISA NEGADA. NO AUTORIZADO.

Yes, after three and a half months of earnest waiting, I found that I could not enter into Bolivia. Why? Why? Why?

My application was sent to La Paz, Bolivia from Beijing way back in July. I seriously did not believe the authorities in Bolivia did any background check on me and discovered my criminal past. (Yeah, you know about my lucrative chewing-gum smuggling ring from way back…) I believed they just sat on it and when they started receiving curious faxes from consulars asking about the status of this application, they simply rejected it.

I was devastated. I spent the rest of the day mourning in Curitiba.

By late afternoon, I accepted defeat. Until I find a South American guy to marry (and get that alternative passport), I guess I was not going to enter Bolivia on this trip. I had to plan my next course of action.

If I could go to Bolivia, I would visit Iguaçu Falls next and then go on to the Pantanal. But now that I could not, I could still go on this route and then head further north through southern Amazon into Peru, just to circle around the border of Bolivia. Yes, this is the challenging ‘ruta de la selva’ [jungle route]. Two jaguars, five anacondas and sixteen caymans later, I should emerge in Peru with, hopefully, just one missing limb. Or I could go to the Pantanal first and then head south to Iguaçu Falls and enter Argentina from there. I pondered for a long time before deciding on the latter route.

I tried to buy the ticket to Campo Grande leaving that night. The ticket-guy told me there was no ticket available. Darn!! Is this fate? Should I wait another day? Should I go to Iguaçu Falls then?

I dithered at the counter for a long time and decided to buy for tomorrow. He wanted my passport which I had left at the Left Luggage. By the time I returned with my passport, he told me there was ONE ticket leaving for Campo Grande today. How he managed to get that, I had no idea. He now gleefully wanted Coca-Cola for his effort. Ha!! Alright, I gratefully bought a can for him.


Campo Grande, BRAZIL - 16 october 2002

Campo Grande was impossibly hot and humid. I checked into a nearby hostel and immediately, was pounced upon by tour touts asking if I wanted to go on a Pantanal trip. I was too tired and too hot to go around and compare prices. I listened to the first proposal and paid up.

That night, a storm brewed. There were scary lightnings the entire night. The lightning was not just a streak across the sky. The entire sky lit up. It went totally white for a brief second and then, black again. This repeated over and over. It was a little eerie to sit in the room by myself and observe this.

The start of a heavy storm was another magical moment that I savoured. I did not know why but somehow I found that this trip had made me more in touch with my emotions and more aware of all these little magical touches that nature offered. I guess I could never be indifferent to such things in the future. This trip was slowly changing me.