Brazil: Home of the Caju

Some might say I'm on the run as an international robber. I prefer to imagine myself as on the chase, not yet sure of what I'm chasing or if the chase will lead me to a higher state of happiness. For the time being, my undercover spy senses lead me to Brazil, accompanied by a Frenchie, German and fellow Canadian.

Sao paulo is not the prettiest of cities. In fact, there are times where it reminds me of Tokyo; expansions of out of date, acid rained stained buildings. Decadent, but aesthetically hideous. I'm perplexed at how these architects came up with such creations. Perhaps it's all the Japanese people who immigrated here which confuses me the most. A Sao Paulo friend told me a story about a time he went to a Japanese restaurant and asked for a seat. The waiter curtly responded with "There is no sushi here, sorry." Shockingly, the restaurant was full of Japanese people eating sushi. It's fascinating that after so many years, the evidence of xenophobia still manifests itself in such a cosmopolitan city.

In some pockets I feel like I've never left Japan. A few days ago, after leaving a bar, some older Japanese men make cat calls across the streets. Have I found a travel portal to Shinjuku? We look different from most of the Asians here. But people also speak to us in Portuguese and often assume we are Brazilian. This is what I love about this place. You can be a mixture of any possible ethnicity and still be mistaken as a local. Our response for everything is "Ta bon!". I'm drawn to the language and suddenly have the desire to live here and learn it.

Last night, I spoke with a Brazilian who lived in Taiwan for three years as a pilot. I asked him what he misses most about Brazil when he is travelling to other destinations. His answer is simple. Improvisation. In Brazil you can speak to a random stranger on the street, waiting in line at the grocery store or at a cafe and spontaneously decided to hang out and chat as if you were friends for years. The thing that impresses me the most is how honest and candid some of the people have been. The service here is impeccable and accompanied with warmth and sincerity. Perhaps I'm more appreciative coming from our few days in Paris. At least the food doesn't really seem to be as fattening as Paris. It is, however, in abundance, and the buffets are hands-down the most amazing in the world. (Bold statement, I know.) The quality of the salad bar is unmatchable and the prices are reasonable. Our plates are always loaded to the brim with carpaccio, asparagus, cheeses, pecans, garlic soaked aubergine, yummy breads and the list goes on. Trips to the salad bar are repeated 3,4,5 times until our "buffet" dresses cannot hide the immersion of the round belly any longer. Is there any room for dessert? Twist my rubber arm. If you order it and put in front of our faces, we will eat it. This is followed by the overwhelming wave of food coma. We are too fat to move.

Some people say that Sao Paulo is dangerous. During buffet gorging, someone tells us a story about a foreigner asking him questions about Sao Paulo.

Q: Is it true that if you wear an expensive watch, someone will come and chop your arm off to steal it from you?

A: Do you know how long it takes to cut off someone's arm? That takes something like two hours to cut through bone.

Then my mind wanders to think of all the possible ways to cut bone faster. A chainsaw, super sharp machete, samurai sword, guillotene... but then you have to worry about carrying around the dead arm. It's too messy. Laundry would be a nightmare.

Last week we spent four days in a resort town called Paraty. Thus far, Paraty cachaca makes the best caipirinhas in my opinion. Not too strong and just enough sugar to balance the lime. And for extra yumminess you can mix it with the caju fruit. Super yum! After visiting several beaches, our second last day proved to be the most memorable. Praia do Sono, Sono beach is a couple of kilometres of ultimate happiness. The sand is white and soft while the water is a crystal clear acquamarine blue. Throughout the day, there are only a handful of people occupying the beach. But this treat did not come cheap. We trekked through rainforest up and over a mountain for approximately 1.5 hours before arriving. Drenched from perspiration and suffering from altitude sickness, the beach can sometimes appear to be a mirage from afar. (Pictures to come.) I'm inclined to believe that everyone on this island has been inhaling slowness from the time of birth. Everyone seems to be moving in tortoise motion and feels like a dream. If you order an orange juice, you may have to wait an hour for the guy to walk to the orange tree and pick it. It's not like we were in any rush though. On our return to Paraty, we were clever enough to take a small boat back. We must always save our energy for dinner.

In a couple of days Ada and I are planning to play in Rio, where the shopping is cheaper and the beaches are close. We are recommended to go to the beach with only our bikini and havaianas for fear of the street kids who flock in hundreds robbing everyone on the beach like a stampede. I think we'll pass on the walking tour of the favellas. It's probably best not to find ourselves lost in the City of God.

Unfortunately, there isn't enough time to make it to the amazon this trip. Big time bummer. Our re-enactment of Aguirre: The Wrath of God will have to wait for next time. What a waste of our yellow fever shots and malaria pills... and the leapord skin outfits.

Look at the time. Dinner is almost here again! Tchau tchau for now.