So I most definitely ‘got my wander on’ yesterday. After dropping off my laundry for a good old fashioned thirteen peso wash/dry/fold, I hopped on the Subte Line D at Callao and rode to the end of the line at Congreso de Tucuman in the neighborhood of Belgrano. This was not aimless wandering, as I had the intentions on checking out an instore from some local bands at some fancy hair salon. Upon arrival at said salon I discovered that no such show was taking place, but took this as an opportunity to wander around a strange place that I’d never been and will most likely never be again. Belgrano is like a different world- very upper-middle class and far from downtown, but by no means a suburb. The apartment buildings and storefronts are strangely fascinating. I actually ended up walking home, which took over three hours.
Pictures:
Callao Station on the D Train.
For some reason Belgrano makes me think of Jersey City, if it weren’t the worst place ever.
Always a nice sunset in the southern hemisphere.
Not sure why I’m so fascinated with the apartment buildings here…
I take my laundry to Lava Show. It’s pretty much awesome, as well as terribly convenient.
I’ve recently developed a terrible habit of drinking soda water out of the pressurized bottle. It’s a bit like going to the dentist every time you take a drink.
This entry was written by , posted on March 13, 2009 at 3:17 pm, filed under Buenos Aires, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Perhaps those who named this city were referring to the “wind” circulated through the train by the open windows as the sweltering and way-too-crowded-for-10:00-on-a-Tuesday-evening Subte Line D careens (underground) down the left track from Estacion Nueve de Julio in downtown Buenos Aires to Plaza Italia in the slightly too cool for school Palermo Soho. Most certainly they were not referring to the gusts that propel the endless procession of solicitous literature (read: for a good time…) down Corrientes Avenue as I use the occasionally functional payphone in front of my apartment, but I digress…
Buenos Aires is a proper city. It was built as a logical grid of one-way streets that run (generally) north/south or east/west, with the occasional deviation from this grid to accommodate the urban sprawl to the northwest along the Rio de La Plata. Its avenues are grand and chaotic and its side streets cramped and shady. Independently run buses compete with taxis, motorbikes, and fiats (and hoard coins, causing a ridiculous situation in which there is actually a black market for change) alongside sidewalks that are packed with people and lined with 24 hour kiosks, late night cafes, and bookstores. The subway is always crowded and quite useful, although annoyingly non-functional between 11 pm and 5 am. In many ways it’s the antithesis of the sprawling and uncontrolled disaster that is Sao Paulo (this is not to say that I am no longer in love with Sao Paulo).
I’ve been walking a shit-ton since I’ve been here- upwards of ten miles a day according to the gmap pedometer. The fifty or so blocks back to my place from Niceto Vega in Palermo is actually quite enjoyable, and a great way walk off the beef tenderloin stuffed with ham, cheese, and sun-dried tomatoes (kind of like a ham and cheese burrito, except that the tortilla is a steak) that you just washed down with a bottle of Malbec at La Cabrera before finding out that your friend left his debit card in an ATM machine in Barrio Norte just before dinner.
Unlike many cities that are extremely walkable during the day (why does London come to mind?), Buenos Aires remains this way throughout the night, quite possibly because people are always out. It seems as though one would have try quite hard to get murdered in most parts of this city. Perhaps there is a backpacker conspiracy to keep tourism at bay (not working, as the city is flooded with foreigners, present company included), because I’ve heard countless tales of carjacking, robbing at gunpoint, and general conniving, but for some reason feel more at ease walking home at 3 am here than I do in my own neighborhood in Chicago. I suppose by ‘some reason’, I actually mean the fact that there are families with children eating dessert, single women walking their dogs, and countless cabs and buses, occupying the same space at this hour. Beyond this, there is also most likely some doofus from Los Angeles walking around with a digital SLR around his neck and a three hundred dollar pair of sneakers on his feet that will make a much easier target, be it for a bird-poop-splatter camera jacking or a good old fashion “gimme ya shoes” 9 mm stick up.
As I’ve been hosting a friend from Chicago for the past six days, I’ve been out all day everyday, trying to do as much “Buenos Aires Stuff” as possible in less than a week. Amongst these activities were parties (Invsn and Zizek), shopping (Florida Street, Palermo, Recoleta, Vila Crespo), eating (Steak and Empanadas, some of which happened at the mall), and general nonsense (post-punk show in an old house in Flores, 4 am conversations with women of questionable morals at streetside cafes downtown). Regretfully, I’ve taken very few photos. However, the camera is charged, notes have been taken, and as I’m on my own time now, the next few days will be quite productive in the picture making department.
For now, enjoy this random assortment of images and observations from the past week of my life:
My apartment was a mess. Now it’s all clean and I’m cozy in bed watching MTVla and blogging.
There is this place on Lavalle, about 6 blocks from my apartment, opened by a SF expat, that apparently thinks it’s that other white-people oriented burrito establishment from Denver. The only difference is that it’s much better and it exists in a city that is completely lacking of spicy food…
…And they have mango pico de gallo. And guacamole does not cost extra. Number three on my list of things I’ve learned in South America is that mango makes everything better. More on numbers one and two later.
Puerto Madero is the “newly revitalized” (read: River North in Chicago) neighborhood of glass skyscrapers, hotels, and really overpriced food and entertainment immediately east of downtown.
It pretty much blows (these winds are not fair), but Calatrava’s bridge is quite nice.
At the far eastern edge of Puerto Madero, beyond the ugly new development, you can find an old walkway lined with little independent parillas.
They look like this and they serve Bife de Chorizo and Quilmes on little tables on the sidewalk.
Walking further down the edge of Puerto Madero we saw some little parrots hanging out on a ledge.
Walking back towards the proper part of the city from Puerto Madero.
Vila Crespo is a neighborhood south of Palermo that has an overabundance of leather shops, some nice tree lined streets, and a ton of auto repair shops.
We found a little cafe on a street lined with auto shops and had a delicious meal for next to nothing.
This building is on Corrientes, in the Abasto neighborhood, on the (long) walk home from Vila Crespo.
This is also in Abasto, which was once the home of the famous Tango musician Carlos Gardel (whom the subway stop is now named after).
This is Jerome in Puerto Madero. He’s on an airplane right now, probably over Brazil at this point, bound for Dallas (poor guy), at which point he’ll get on a flight to Chicago and finally develop his four disposable cameras from this past week. Let us hope for the best.
I promise not to eat any more steak at the food court at Alto Palermo Mall. And to take more pictures. And to stop hoarding my one peso coins. Seriously.
Yours Truly,
Brett.
This entry was written by , posted on March 11, 2009 at 10:31 pm, filed under Buenos Aires, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I’ve been living in Buenos Aires about a week now. I haven’t taken many pictures yet, though I plan on it in the coming weeks.
I was a bit unsure about the city at first, but I think I’m starting to love it. Last night around 11:30 we ate gigantic steaks on the sidewalk at a little cafe in San Telmo and the bill with drinks and service came to 50 pesos, which is less than $15 US. We got on the list for the party at Niceto, which gets you half off entry, as well as a free drink and hotdog (srsly) in return for entry before 3 AM. At 3 AM the place was empty. At 5 AM it was ridiculous. The late thing is true. In fact I plan on napping for a few hours after writing this entry, and waking up to shower and grab dinner just after midnight. We’re going to the Zizek party tonight in Palermo and probably won’t even head over there until 4 or so. I’ll go to bed after the sun comes up and wake up late for some empanadas in the park on Sunday. These hours tend to accommodate my needs much more so than those of the states (sorry California).
Argentines seem to have an infatuation with the Simpsons, and the show is used to promote anything and everything. In fact I have a carton of Homer Simpson Peach Orange and a carton of Lisa Simpson Orange Juice, as well as a little juicebox of Bart Apple in my fridge.
A ride on the subway here costs less than a stamp in the United States and a ride across town in a cab (which can be quite exhilarating, as was the case the other night when our cab driver decided to race a cop and another cab down Corrientes Avenue at speeds in excess of 120 kph) costs less than 20 pesos. The city is laid out pretty logically on a mathematical grid, similar to that of Chicago, and I’ve found it pretty easy to learn my way around.
Pictures soon, nap now, dinner later.
This entry was written by , posted on March 7, 2009 at 3:40 pm, filed under Buenos Aires, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Saturday night I was back in the hostel by 2:30 AM. I walked fifteen or so blocks back to Alves Guimares from a party in Vila Madalena, which given everything that’s said about the safety (or lack there of) of Sao Paulo, probably lands this particular action amongst the most irresponsible decisions I’ve made in my adult life, although I had atleast enough sense to stuff my id and debit card in my shoe and wad up some two real bills as booty should some entrepreneurial individual decide to run up on me with a grenade (as happened to others in Rio a few weeks ago). As I’m now writing this from the comfort of my newly acquired (this morning) studio apartment on Ave Corrientes in downtown Buenos Aires, I assure you I made it out of Sao Paulo just fine.
With the fear of detention at customs looming over my head, I left for Sao Paulo International Airport quite early to be sure I’d not get held up to the point of missing my flight (see aforementioned entry card issue). Originally my plan was to walk to the subway, take two trains to the bus station, and finally take the airport bus from the station to the airport. In light of it being 31 degrees C with 90 percent humidity at 10:30 in the morning, I decided to take a cab to the subway in lieu of walking up the hill with my life strapped to my back. The cab driver was cool and very interested in talking to me, so he offered the ride to the airport for 50 real, which given my lack of sleep, food, and ambition to walk, I had to accept. Going rate for a ride from Pinheiros to GRU is over 100 real, so whatever.
The ticket counter at Pluna didn’t open until noon, which left me sitting around GRU terminal 2 section C with my bag, wondering why it is that an airport in a supposedly “developing” country is so much cleaner, more efficient, and generally attractive and inviting (both staff and patrons) than any I’ve ever had the indignity of calling my home airport (ORD, MDW, LAX, SNA).
The ticketing process went smoothly, as did the dreaded encounter with Brazilian exit customs. I received a goofy smile and an exit stamp, and made my way to duty free to debate buying a bottle of cachaca, which I did not. I did however, indulge in a chicken empanada and a Coca Cola while wondering what would motivate anyone to buy a pair of designer sunglasses at a duty free shop at the airport.
The flight to Montevideo was smooth and furnished with plentiful ham and cheese sandwiches and orange juice. The decent was a bit rough as it was raining in MVD, but the pilot handled it well (I’m alive) and the most of the passengers applauded our arrival.
This favela comes all the way up to the runway at Sao Paulo International.
Take off…
Sao Paulo is ridiculous from above.
This is the Uruguayan Pampas, north of Montevideo as we approach MVD airport. This is where the best steak in the world grows.
Green farmland outside MVD airport. The approach to the airport was nothing but dirt roads, little houses, and big farms. When it seemed we were ten feet off the ground, the runway finally came into view.
Pluna stops their flights in the middle of the taxiway and the passengers disembark the plane by moving stairway, at which time they board a bus and drive 100 meters to the terminal. Inside the terminal we were separated into groups according to whether we were traveling on to Buenos Aires or Santiago. Much to my surprise we filled out Argentine immigration papers and were stamped into Argentina by a girl at the gate at the airport in Uruguay. Who knew.
The flight to BA from MVD is 35 minutes. The plane doesn’t have time to reach cruising altitude and there is no drink service. It’s a three hour/ thirty dollar boat ride, and much as if I’d flown from Chicago to St. Louis, I feel like less of a person for having flown it. Nonetheless, I’ve now been in Uruguay- for thirty minutes. I shall return via boat in a few weeks, as I will soon require some beach time and some frivolous gambling in Punta del Este.
Taking off from MVD, Montevideo is at the point.
We landed at Aeroparque, the downtown airport for domestic flights (and Uruguay). Coming in at night was quite spectacular, and I imagine that flying into the now defunct Meggs Field (sorry, “Northerly Island”) would have been quite similar. Bags were unloaded on the tarmac, avoiding the usual headache of baggage claim. A quick change of 10 euros and 20 US dollars into local currency (at a rate so poor it could only happen in an airport) and I have enough pesos for a radio cab to the hostel, payment of the hostel, dinner, and a few drinks at the hostel bar.
As I knew I’d be arriving late on a Sunday evening, I booked the hostel in Sao Paulo the night before, knowing I wouldn’t be able to move into the apartment until Monday morning. The hostel was booked solely on location, as it is a mere three blocks from my apartment, allowing me to wake up twenty minutes before my appointment and stumble down the block, which is exactly what I did. I had expected to have an early night on Sunday, but met some kids from Chicago, as well as some locals and a guy from England down in the hostel bar while checking my email. It turned into a later night rather quickly.
The formalities involving the exchange of dollars, signatures, and keys went well, and I now have a tiny studio apartment on the tenth floor of a downtown Buenos Aires midrise to myself for the month. Today was spent locating a voltage converter, grocery shopping, unpacking, wandering around downtown getting my bearings, eating sandwiches in the park, and watching MTVla.
I ate a sandwich and drank two juice boxes here.
Snapped this on my walk home from the supermarket. I live a block to the right of the Oblesico (the thing that looks like that thing you saw in DC in eight grade).
Tomorrow I must find a laundromat!
This entry was written by , posted on March 2, 2009 at 9:34 pm, filed under Buenos Aires, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Last night a bunch of us bought all the makings for a burger feast at a friend’s apartment in Vila Madalena. Upon returning to the apartment from the grocery store, it became apparent that there was no cooking gas (in many apartments here you buy canisters of cooking gas instead of being hooked up to a line). As desperate times call for desperate measures, the burgers were cooked in the toaster. Rest assured they were delicious.
Around 1 am we left the apartment and walked to Matrix Bar. The following five hours were filled with the most remarkable musical selection and hilarious dancing I’ve ever witnessed in one evening. 60’s-70’s pop hits, 90’s britpop, 90’s american hiphop, a bit of typical new indie stuff, 80’s manchester, all seamlessly mixed and perpetually on point. Before last night I didn’t know it was possible to follow cypress hill with iggy pop. At 6:00 am when the lights went on for last call, the crowd was not having is- thus a human ladder was formed and proceeded to unscrew the light fixtures and resume the dance party. Although I’m not exactly the type to wear my sunglasses at night, they sure as shit would have been nice in the morning for the walk home.
This morning I bought a flight on Pluna, the Uruguayan national airline, to Buenos Aires, departing Sao Paulo international at 3:00 tomorrow afternoon. I don’t really want to leave Sao Paulo, but I have a meeting Monday morning at 10:00 to acquire the keys for my apartment in Buenos Aires. Hopefully customs isn’t a huge pain in the ass, since I have both my stamped brazilian entry and exit card because apparently the customs agent in Rio neglected to keep their half. I suppose it’s better than having neither.
A bunch of friends are meeting up in Cuzco, Peru in April. Halfway considering ditching my flight out of Santiago in April, getting one out of Bogota for later in the month, and bussing up the Andes.
Although I’m not too keen on leaving Brazil, I must say, I’m pretty excited to speak Spanish.
This entry was written by , posted on February 28, 2009 at 2:27 pm, filed under Buenos Aires, São Paulo, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
So today I went back downtown to Praca de Republica and checked out the Edificio Italia, a forty something story building with a fancy restaurant and free observation deck on the top. Unlike Santander, this one doesn’t check for id.
Looking south. I’m staying somewhere in the mess of buildings beyond the big antennas on the right half of the frame.
Eastside.
Westside.
Northside. The green area is Praca de Republica.
I walked back to the hostel from downtown instead of taking the subway, which took about an hour and a half. The transition between old downtown, Bela Vista, hipster land on Rue Augusta north of Paulista, Jardins, and Vila Madalena is pretty interesting on foot.
Back in Pinheiros, I saw this outstanding Honda Motorcycle parked in front of this gallery a few blocks from the hostel.
If I spoke Portuguese I’d probably move here for a while.
This entry was written by , posted on February 27, 2009 at 4:29 pm, filed under São Paulo, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I love this city.
You can buy popcorn on any street corner, california maki is made with mango and strawberry instead of avocado, and pretty girls look you in the eyes and smile on the subway.
Every day around 4:00 pm a storm comes through and turns the hilly streets into rivers. Most evenings the sky looks to be signaling the end of the world.
Walking back home from the market this evening, the sky looked like this.
Today I moved into a new room at the hostel, since I officially extended my stay until Sunday. Last night we went out as a group of no less than 15, and actually required three taxis even though part of the group walked. We played a bit of pool and I was surprised to find out that in many Brazilian bars there is actually a referee that handles the table order and enforcement of proper etiquette. Just as has been the case every other night this week, it was sunny outside when we got home.
I strolled through Jardins yesterday on my way up to Avenida Paulista. Paulista is the most expensive real estate in Latin America and the most important street in Sao Paulo. It’s the highest point in the city, and because of this most of the skyscrapers are topped with gigantic pointy antennas. Jardins is full of expensive shopping and fancy shit, and is also home to the only American Apparel in Brazil, which here is marketed to the rich and is almost three times as expensive as in the states. A pair of pants goes for 250 Reals.
There is also a place called Galeria Melissa that has a bunch of plastic shoes inside of bubbles and a big elephant emerging from their facade.
I’d have loved to not have this woman in my photo, however after waiting over five minutes while her daughter shot a series of different poses, I realized she may not have been leaving for a while.
On Paulista I stumbled upon a mall, much like the ones found on Michigan Avenue in Chicago, except that it was full of photo galleries, book stores, cafes, and art supply stores. I was told to stop before I even began taking photos.
Four on the dot, the storm came through. The sky turned black, opened up, and everyone ran for shelter. I found myself hanging out in a magazine stand, in which I flipped through a Brazilian photoshop magazine only to find a two page spread with a photo of the CTA Damen stop and my apartment building in Chicago.
Consolacão Metro stop on Paulista
The Avenue
Running to the Magazine Stand for shelter
Trying to stay dry
After the storm
I decided to spend the 8 Real to buy an umbrella, and walked back to the metro to head home.
Today I took all three trains to the Republica stop in the center with the goal of shooting photos from the top of the Edeficio Santander, which is a tall bank building with an observatory and apparently a 360 degree view of skyscrapers as far as one can see. However I soon found out that they scan your passport to allow access to the elevator, and as we all can agree, only a fool would walk around central Sao Paulo with a passport in their pocket.
I did however, enjoy a delightful sandwich and smoothie at a juice bar at praca de sé while observing some first rate derelictism in the adjacent plaza. Though I’d have liked to take more photos, in this part of the center of the city you have to be discreet with your valuables, to say the least.
Walking from republica to praca de sé.
Old buildings downtown
Praca de sé
Praca de sé is a metro hub, connecting two of the busiest subway lines.
Back at Clinicas it’s a five block walk home.
Going out in Vila Madalena again tonight.
Apparently I may not have an apartment to come home to in Chicago? Stay tuned!
This entry was written by , posted on February 26, 2009 at 5:26 pm, filed under São Paulo, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Sao Paulo is enormous. Just absurdly huge. With 20 million people, it is the largest metropolitan area in the southern hemisphere. To go from the bus station (upper pin on the map) to my hostel (lower pin) on the very clean and highly efficient metro requires one transfer and about half an hour. The blocks are huge, and what would at appear at first glance at a map to be a ten minute walk can actually turn out to be a few mile journey that can take over an hour.
It also turns out Sao Paulo is hilly. Being from Chicago, I often refer to Manhattan as hilly and San Francisco as mountainous, and while Sao Paulo is not as steep as SF, it’s shockingly hilly. Perhaps I overlooked this because Rio is the postcard city, built into and around the hills and hugging the coast. Sao Paulo simply has paved over the hills, and observing the city from above, as a simple google image search will reveal, one simply sees an endless sea of skyscrapers of varying height. Once on the ground in the city, you realize, much like the shocking hilliness of downtown Los Angeles, that the thick sea of buildings actually blocks out the varying topography.
Sao Paulo is also extremely diverse. People from every culture in the world live in this city. It even has the largest population of Japanese people outside of Japan. Anyone can be from Sao Paulo, thus it’s much easier to blend in. On the subway from the bus station to the hostel I talked with a few people (my backpack drew attention and Brazilians are extremely friendly). One kid had just moved here from Belo Hortizonte and was curious where I was going. We could only communicate in Spanish, because I still cannot speak any Portuguese and he knew almost no English. My Spanish and English caught the attention of a girl on the train who was from Manaus, living in Sao Paulo, but had lived in Oregon and spoke perfect English. We talked for a bit and she showed me where to transfer to the next train. The next train was full of hipsters and models and kids with skateboards and could very well have been the L train from Union Square to Williamsburg.
The hostel I’m staying in is amazing. The people who are staying here as well as the locals who run it and hang out here are all really friendly. A group of us went out to a block party last night that actually walks around the city dancing until sunrise. People play music and “bartenders” follow the crowd, pushing wheelbarrows full of beer, cachaca, and mixers. The party wandered through Jardim Paulista and Vila Madalena and ended in a square a few blocks down the hill from the hostel.
There was a crazy thunderstorm today that lasted about an hour. After the storm passed, I wandered the city shooting photos. Although statistically this city is more dangerous then Rio, I don’t feel particularly sketched out walking around with a backpack and taking photos.
The city is just insane. The juxtaposition of new skyscrapers and colorful old houses and storefronts, the hills, the helicopters, the people. I only booked the hostel until Wednesday night, but I’m already thinking about staying through the weekend. If I do, I’ll forgo Florianopolis and fly directly to Montevideo. The flight is actually about the same price as the combination of bus tickets from SP-Floripa and Floripa-Montevideo.
Here are some pictures:
This is the hostel where I am staying.
Down the hill from the hostel towards Jardins.
My corner.
The Brazilians call their payphones “rabbit ears.”
Sometimes an ear is missing…
Colors.
Lots of bright colors.
The sky here is crazy.
This is a discreet neighborhood entrance to a fancy McDonald’s.
This is the same McDonald’s. I’m not sure why I find this fascinating.
The small streets are buzzing with people, but the big avenues can be strangely deserted.
The garbage is thrown in these cages on the curbside.
Pão de Acúcar (Sugarloaf, like the mountain in Rio) is the largest supermarket chain in Brazil. This one is down the hill from my hostel and reminds me of a Trader Joe’s.
Walking back up the hill towards the hostel.
This entry was written by , posted on February 23, 2009 at 6:06 pm, filed under São Paulo, Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
After a free night at the hostel in Rio, split 50/50 between sleeping sitting up in a chair in the living room and sleeping on a bench on the terrace, I was up at 7:00 in the morning and ready to leave town. A shower and breakfast at the hostel and I found myself walking down the hill from Santa Tereza, bag packed with all my belongings. 7:00-10:00 in the morning seems to be the quietest time in Rio during Carnival, as those who drink all night have just gone to sleep, but those who drink all day have yet to wake up. At the bottom of the hill, I asked a cop which bus to take to the Novo Rio bus station. He gave the bus a firm “two thumbs down” and grabbed me a cab. This set me back 15 Real, but the price was agreed upon beforehand and the station was much farther than I realized.
The bus station in Rio is loaded with derelicts. After surveying the plethora of ticket counters, I found a company that seemed to specialize in Rio-Sao Paulo transit. I pointed my way through the booking computer and ended up with a 10:40 ticket to Sao Paulo on a big yellow bus with huge tinted windows. My time in the Novo Rio station was spent drinking Gatorade and guarding my bag with my life while being glared at by a sketchball that makes East Side Long Beach’s notorious Superthug look like a model citizen.
I snapped this photo while sitting on the floor guarding my bag. Notice the favela in the distance.
The ticket cost 70 Real (about 30 US dollars) for the six hour journey between Brazil’s two largest cities. The bus had more legroom than anyone could possibly need, and the incredibly comfortable seats reclined to an almost completely horizontal position and even had leg rests. Upon boarding, every passenger is giving a pillow, blanket, and a lunch box that includes an assortment of crackers, cookies, fruit snacks, and a juicebox. The ride was smooth, with one short stop for bathroom breaks and snacks. They even showed Naked Gun. Needless to say, this was not the Megabus. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say this particular bus ride was more enjoyable than any bus, train, or airplane adventure I’ve had in the United States.
After driving through the industrial north and west side of Rio, along side numerous favelas, we were out in the Brazilian countryside. We gained quite a bit of elevation through a series of switchbacks shortly outside of Rio and drove through the lush Atlantic rainforest. Sao Paulo is one of those cities, much like Houston, where it seems one is greeted by a never ending ring of suburbs and skyscrapers. I packed up my belongings and prepared to arrive, as the view outside my window suggested that I was currently near the center of the city, only to find out we still had over 30 km to go. Upon arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find that Tiete bus station in Sao Paulo is a bit less saturated with derelicts than Novo Rio. It is also connected to the rest of the city by the subway, and a 2.50 Real ticket and a 30 minute ride on two different metro lines brought me to the Clinicas stop, within walking distance of my hostel in the Pinheiros neighborhood on the southwest side of Sao Paulo.
Here are some photos from the drive:
The switchbacks outside of Rio.
Closer to Sao Paulo.
In the Sao Paulo suburbs.
Outskirts of Sao Paulo.
This entry was written by , posted on at 4:31 pm, filed under Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I went out in Lapa again last night. Went to a bunch of places, the first of which was a samba club meets pool hall. When going out in Rio, after you pass the metal detector and the pat down, you’re given a card that looks quite a bit like a turnpike ticket. If you lose this ticket while you are still inside, you might as well have locked your keys in your apartment because it’s going to be a shitstorm and to get out you’re going to have to pay the lost ticket fee, which could be up to 100 Reals. When ordering food or drinks, you present your ticket to your server, and they mark off what you’ve ordered. To leave, you get in the long cashier line and they figure your cover (if there is one) depending upon the entry time on the ticket, as well as the rest of the bill. You have to show your receipt at the door to be allowed out. Needless to say, when in Rio, you keep track of your shit- after all, this is not Williamsburg.
Later in the evening I found myself in a conversation with a Brazilian man, who must have been no less than 70 years old, concerning old New Order vs. new New Order. This is a conversation that in Chicago would no doubt make me throw up in my mouth a little, as it would most certainly be a recital of some pitchfork tainted nonsense. However in Brazil, it’s quite the opposite. This was just an old guy in Brazil that likes to sit in front of his little restaurant and drink his beer and listen to music from Manchester.
Just as I was beginning to think to myself that the crime problem here is blown out of proportion, we were told this morning by the guy at the hostel that a hostel down in Lapa was stormed by a group of guys with machine guns and handcuffs and robbed of all their electronics and money last night. As I sit on the hillside patio overlooking Lapa and downtown Rio, there are quite a bit of firecrackers going off, some much more powerful than others. One can only wonder how many of these aren’t actually firecrackers.
This is my street in Santa Tereza. The bonde (the cable car that runs up the hill to Santa Tereza from Centro) runs directly in front of the place.
This is the view of Centro from my walk up the hill.
I walk down this hill to a big staircase, which cuts off the switchback in the road and cut directly to the street that takes you into Lapa. The last block, which I refer to as the gauntlet, after the staircase is the sketchiest part of my commute to the bus. At night it would be quite naive to walk up the hill alone, especially considering that a cab would cost no more than three dollars.
I went to the top of Corcovado today, which is the big mountain with the Christ statue. Getting there involves a 30 minute tram ride through the rainforest in Tijuca National Park. It’s actual rainforest, with monkeys and canopy and all that. A group of samba kids jumped on the tram half way up and played music for the rest of the ride. The view from the top is absurd, there is nothing more that can be said.
Looking south at the lagoon and Ipanema/Leblon.
The cluster of buildings to the left is centro. I’m staying on the far side of the hill that separates the two clusters of buildings.
I officially have an address in Buenos Aires for March. I’ll be living in a 10th floor studio a two blocks from the Oblesico on Corrientes Avenue. Still not sure where I’m headed on Saturday when I no longer have a bed here. The guy who runs it mentioned the possibility of sleeping on the couch in the living room, so I suppose if I want to stick around Rio a bit longer I could. Regardless, there is a lot more to see in the south of Brazil and I have to be in BA by March 5th.
Time for food and then off to Lapa.
This entry was written by , posted on February 19, 2009 at 4:42 pm, filed under Travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.