So I’m back. You probably all moved on since the last blog. Probably thought that Dan Grant has just given up on us. Maybe I should do something more useful than sit here hour after hour waiting for a new blog to come out.
Well here it is! Sit back and enjoy.
So we jump on possibly the longest bus ride I have ever known and frankly have no intention of repeating. It’s a 6 hour journey to Sao Paulo from Paraty and it’s just about bearable. The bus stops every couple of hours at these ridiculously remote service stops that look like someone’s house and appear only to bother opening when this particular bus pulls in.
Anyway we begin to see built up areas and I realise we are nearing Sao Paulo. Allow me to read to you what the Lonely Planet says about Sao Paulo.
DANGERS AND ANNOYANCES
Reports of crime in the city have increased and Sao Paulo is said to be less safe than Rio…if you’re driving, be aware that carjackings and red-light robberies are common after dark. It’s so bad that Sao Paulo recently changed a traffic law – it’s now legal (and recommended) to just slow down at red lights at night. If there’s no traffic, continue without stopping…
What the..? Don’t stop at red lights, crime worse than Rio?? Well that little paragraph had us scanning every car and every person as we rode along towards the bus station. Who was suspicious? That man with the hood, too obvious? What about that pregnant lady…a cunning disguise perhaps? Who knows? So we arrive fully prepared for urban combat. Unfortunately we have to stay at the bus station for 5 hours to wait for the night bus to take us to Florianopolis (which is a 12 hour drive).
Sao Paulo has the worlds biggest bus station. It’s like an airport - shops, fast food chains, internet cafes all very nice. But I swear there are some distinctly dodgy people walking around that place. Every time I made eye contact with someone I pictured them shoving a gun in my face and demanding my Lonely Planet Brazil (which they can have as far as I’m concerned). My mind then draws a picture of me unable to understand what they are after so I try desperately to do a translation exercise with the help of my phrasebook before they pull the trigger.
So for 5 hours we sat and ate then after we finished eating we ate some more. We don’t smoke, so what the hell else are we supposed to do? One thing I’ve noticed here. When you ask for something in English, even though the name of what you are asking for is the same in both English and Portuguese they just don’t understand. So I say ‘Sprite por favour.’ And the two-star Bob’s Burger employee stares straight back at me with a sort of cross eyed expression and says ‘Sprite?’ I look up at the menu lit up in front of me, a beautifully lit photo of a large cup of Sprite with ice cubes and a straw with big letters on the side saying Sprite. I look down at our missing link friend. ‘Yes Sprite.’ The mongoloid shakes his head and smiles. Then I do what so many of my compatriots do. I start saying it over and over again, varying things like volume, speed, pitch. Nothing. He asks his manager. I say ‘Sprite?’ The manager shakes his head, then an idea. I see it forming in his brain. ‘Ohhh…Sprite?’ I stare at him, a small frown on my now sweating forehead. ‘Yes, Sprite.’ And let me tell you, dear readers, he said Sprite in exactly the same way I’d had and I finally got my goddamn beverage.
Finally the time came and we got on the bus. Which was, I have to admit, quite funky. They had these chairs that turned in to beds. Actual flat beds with sheets and pillows. Brilliant. I actually slept for some of the way. Wayhay!!
So we arrive in Florianopolis at 6 Am, another beach location. Our guest house is lovely, the owner was slightly surprised to see us so early but offered us breakfast and spoke excellent English. Great, we’re winning. What wasn’t winning, however, was the weather. It was still raining. You may remember how I told you it rained the whole time we were in Paraty. Well it carried on here. Fab. So what do you do when it rains here? We thought let’s take a bus downtown and go see a movie at the multiplex. So that’s what we did. The ticket cost about 2 pounds each cos it was a matinee and we saw Charlie Wilson’s War which was not bad at all.
Whilst walking around the mall something else occurred to me. Brazilians don’t wear glasses. Seriously I have not seen one Brazilian wearing them. Maybe they don’t like being called four eyes. Maybe they all have perfect 20x20 vision. Maybe there’s a trade embargo on them, who knows? I have yet to see one pair, weird no?
Anyway, the weather improves and we have a nice few days on the beach. Then it’s time to go and we’ve booked a flight from Florianopolis to Rosario in Argentina. So it’s farewell Brazil. Well not quite, because the flight we booked doesn’t leave Florianopolis till 1800, then it flies one hour south to a place called Porto Alegre where we then have to wait 5 hours until we leave (around midnight) for Rosario thus arriving at 0155 in the morning. Confused? We were.
As I’m sitting on the plane watching the sunset I look down and see the baggage guys loading the plane with various pieces of luggage. As usual they are in that ‘couldn’t give a toss mode’ throwing it around, kicking it etc. However I quickly realise there’s no conveyer belt taking the luggage up in to the plane; they are lifting each piece individually. And all I could think was the airport surely could afford to buy them one conveyor belt. They could even share it when there’s more than one flight. It would be good for them, and it would be good for me so I don’t spend my time with this stuff running around my head and we could get on our way!
So we arrive in Porto Alegre airport and here we must wait and wait and wait some more. We wander around looking at shops pondering how we are going to kill this much time when Alison notices there’s a cinema on the top floor. A cinema! In an airport. Brilliant! What an inspired idea. So we amble up there and guess what there’s a movie starting in 20 minutes. Hallelujah! We buy tickets to see a film called Vantage Point. Not bad, bit like a long episode of 24. Anyway, that kills a couple of hours straight off. Before you know it we’re boarding our next plane to Rosario.
Now because it’s Easter and everything was booked in Rosario we ended up booking a Holiday Inn. We didn’t want to, but everywhere else was full. So we arrive at Rosario Airport at 2 in the morning, only to find it’s so late all the immigration people have gone home. I mean, what the hell! So we’re herded in to this room for about the length of the Bronze Age. Then a guy from the airline comes out and makes an announcement, in Spanish. Everyone groans. Then 5 minutes later he comes out again and makes another announcement, suddenly everyone stands up and heads back towards the immigration area. We, like the sheep that we are, followed them. They had located some passport people who were now under so much pressure to get the queue moving I swear they would have let Osama Bin Laden in.
Anyway, exhausted and more than a little tetchy we emerge through arrivals fully expecting no one to be there, but to our great surprise there was a guy holding a sign with my name on it. Ace. He drove us (like the absolute lunatic he was), to the Holiday Inn. We walk through reception and we meet the man who is going to have a great impact on our lives. He is called Luis. We explain that we have been trying to let the Holiday Inn know for the last week that we were coming at 3am. They had booked the transfer so surely they wouldn’t do that if we didn’t have a reservation, right? Wrong. Luis was possibly the most unhelpful, couldn’t-give-a-toss nightman I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He said our room would not be ready until 3pm, then just looked at us. So we said ‘Fine, we’ll sit in reception and wait.’ And that’s what we did looking like a couple of Albanian goat herders we sat and dozed and tried to avoid the mozzies. From 3 in the morning until 9 we sat there. He didn’t offer us a damn thing unless you count strange looks. Only when the day staff started to come in did he bother to say ‘You can get some breakfast, the restaurant has opened now.’ I wanted to tell him where he could stick his breakfast but I was hungry and coffee sounded nice.
Eventually the manager came over. Totally different attitude. Very sorry, totally understood our position. Offered us a nicer room etc etc. Luis by that time had gone home. I thought about leaving him a special ‘Easter egg’ of my own but what the hell, life’s too short.
And here is where I must leave you. With that thought of my ‘special’ Easter egg. There’s more, much more. And I shall be posting it as soon as I figure out how to get out of the Tango lessons Alison has planned for me.
Until that time.
Arive Derche
The Dan
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