Rio de Janeiro - Fortaleza

Monday, 11 June 2007

7:30am

Going down the stairs for my last Rio breakfast... Isn't there something "warm" and... quaint about wooden stairs? Sure, they creak and "moan", sometimes they feel as if they are really old people who have had a tough life and can hardly make a step now, without feeling their last bone hurt (generally speaking, I'm not talking about my hostel's stairs in particular), but... they do feel "warm", don't they? As for these stairs, for 3-4 days now, they have been whispering me "have a great day" every morning, and "you look as if you walked from here to São Paulo. Go have some rest" every night, so I say they deserve a little corner in my blog...

9:30

In the bus I took to go to the airport... This "thing" on the right, this "thing" I don't even know how it's called in Greek (but I bet the origin of the word in English can only be Greek, because... well... the father of the bride in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" was right, every word comes from Greek -rrrrrrright), is something I saw first time ever here, in Rio. I mean on buses... You pay the driver, he presses a button, he "unlocks" this "thing", you push, it "obeys", and you're in. Same thing when you get off (eham, without the "you pay the driver" part, of course...). Things that draw a newbie's in Brazil attention, huh?...

10:15
I know, I know, save your breath, this is a seriously horrible picture, but it's a matter of perspective, this is not a picture, this is a "note" in my virtual notebook. Ten minutes ago I was at this very same spot, I saw the line, but I thought that I had nothing to do with it, so I moved on and went to Gol's (my airline) counters to check in. That's when I realized that this unbelievable line had everything to do with me. Where are the counters? Well, from the spot I took this photo from, you go straight ahead for... a couple of kilometers, you turn left, you... cross a bridge, you climb a mountain, you swim through a deep river, you go down a steep gorge, and then you are only a day's walk away. That's where the counters are...

11:30

I don't know what you do when you face a situation which is just too bloody annoying, but personally, I laugh, that kind of laugh that doesn't reflect the mood of a happy person, more like works as a "pill" to calm you down and keep you from smashing your head against some wall. Your team loses ten times in a row, you are way passed the point of being mad at your players, you just... laugh, that's all you can do to deal with this unprecedented losing streak... But, doing Brazil and the situation in its airports justice, I have to say that today is a special occasion. Sure, generally the airports have problems, delays are all too common, but the TV crews that have showed up, taking pictures of the endless lines, say that today is... really something, even for Brazilian standards.

11:50

After an hour and 35 minutes I am that close to checking in. I'm still laughing every now and then, but by now my laughter is genuine, is because I'm having fun. How? Well, on my right, people come every now and then, people who have seen the lines and thought they didn't need to stand in them, people who, reaching the counters, realize that they have to go aaaaaaaaaall the way back, and oh yeah, stand in the line. Ooooooh, the looks on their faces are really priceless, a mixture of surprise, shock, horror, frustration, priceless I say! The little sadist in me is sooooo content...

4pm

The plane has started the landing procedure, we can clearly see a coast with sand dunes west of Fortaleza. I've read my guidebook, I've checked people's travel blogs, I've posted questions on travel fora (yeah, I'm a smart ass, I don't write "forums" because the plural of "forum" is "fora", like "stadium-stadia" -or I just made a complete ass of myself...), and I'm telling you, this city does not exactly have the best possible name... In Lonely Planet's suggested itineraries, Fortaleza is... invisible. It's just the place you pass through on your way from legendary Jericoacoara to Canoa Quebrada or vice versa. "Prostitution" is a word that comes up all too often while digging online for information regarding the city. Still, it is a city, a coastal one, and geographically it suits me juuuuust perfect as the beginning on my overland trip back to Salvador da Bahia. Besides, I'm a huge cities' fan, make me choose between a weekend in a gritty city and a week in some fancy beach resort and I'll grab that city weekend before you have time to finish presenting me your offer...

5:40

At Rio's airport first I laughed because I was pissed waiting in that endless line, then I laughed because I had fun seeing other terrified passengers realizing how big the line they had to wait in was, now it's time to laugh out of surprise, feeling that fate is pulling a sick trick on me... I have just checked in the place were I will spend my two nights in Fortaleza, I have paid the sweet young woman who runs the place, and I am waiting for her mother (in law?) to bring me the change. My eyes fall on this. What is this? It's called "Vegeta", a product people use in Croatia (as well as in many other countries, since this product is being exported) to add extra taste to food. It's produced by a company named "Podravka". Podravka has its headquarters in Koprivnica, a tiny place east of Zagreb, close to the Hungarian border. Punch line: Podravka is the company my ex girlfriend is working for... Seriously, what were the chances?! I am half a planet away, I am in a tiny hostel-like place, in a city which is not exactly every tourist's in Brazil first choice, and here it is, a handproof that this is a ridiculously small planet, after all... Turns out some Croatians were here a few weeks ago, they left it behind...

7:30

Having enjoyed a m a j e s t i c shower (meaning having water running regularly and not in five seconds' doses as in my Rio hostel, meaning without having a line of people waiting behind me to use the shower), I hit the road for my first Fortaleza stroll. I'm being cautious, I've read creepy stories about things that happened to tourists along the beach, especially in the night, but, once again, my cautiousness soon starts feeling unecessary. Kids are playing on the sand, the people who pass by me look "Ok", the place is well lit, so... yeah, the photo camera can come out.

7:40

In the morning I had to wait at some bus stop twice, to catch two buses going to the airport. At the airport I had to stand in line for... an eternity, and after that, I was stuck in a seat for even more hours. Then, I got on another bus to go downtown Fortaleza. After all this standing, waiting and being stuck in seats, I can finally walk (given that soon I will find something to put in my moaning stomach). I think now I know how bears feel once they wake up from their hibernation and are so hungry they are ready to eat anything...

8pm

The beach is long, and the more west you go, the more people you see. People, as in strollers, kids having fun on the beach, the occasional jogger, and of course "those guys", guys who make a living by washing and "looking after" cars their owners leave on the other side of the street. After Portugal, Brazil is the second country where I see something like that. What do you do if you are a car owner here and want to park your car and go have a beer or something at some bar? You pay "those guys" a little something and have your peace of mind, knowing that you will find the car at its place when you go back (plus, washed), or you ignore "those guys" (whom you have no legal obligation to pay, of course), risking to... well... use your imagination... I guess car owners here have kind of compromised with this situation, unthinkable as it may look to Greek me...

8:10

I like it... Give me a coastal city I can walk and walk being close to the sea, and I'm happy. I'm easy to satisfy... I'm like a puppy who swings its tail when you throw it a ball or something... I'm heading west and the coastal road gets busier and busier. It feels... relaxing. I mean... it feels so laid back. I can't help it, I keep comparing Brazil to India, because India was my previous big destination. In a big Indian city, say... Hyderabad, or Chennai, to name two of the several I went to, the very attempt to cross a street can prove to be a challenge. Walking on a sidewalk can prove to be a challenge (for too many a reason), the noise is overwhelming, the smells are overwhelming, the crowds are overwhelming, and in the end of the day you feel every single second of the last 24 hours stuck on your skin. I mean it well, honestly, I'm not saying all these with a critical tone, I just... state facts. Here... Here it just feels that you are on vacation, you relax, you stroll around, the atmosphere is so laid back, everything feels easy, the cars don't scream in your ears, and... no matter how much I dream of going back to India one day, I have to confess my sin, I seriously like how different Brazil is to India, shoot me...

8:50

I see a lady all traditionally dressed selling "acarajé", and I have to try it. Underline "try"... After a couple of attempts to enjoy it, I accept my defeat. I can't eat it... I did the polite thing I had to do, tasted it in front of her and acted as if I liked it, very much actually, waved goodbye and a minute later I was looking for the closest dust bin. Aaaaaah, India... I'd sell my right kidney right now to have a "thali" in front of me, a typical South Indian meal... Mmmmmm... Oh well, we can't have everything, can we now...

10:20pm

In five minutes I will be in my room. After four days at huge Rio de Janeiro, Fortaleza feels like a little town, which is not, but... you know what I mean. I'm totally relaxed... I have a general itinerary in mind, but the only thing that is for sure is that one specific day I must be back to Salvador da Bahia to catch my flight back to Europe. Everything else, is up to me. I can go anywhere I want, spend as little or as much time as I want, given that I will not lose track of time and miss my flight back to Europe, which of course I wouldn't mind, but no matter how tempting the Brazilian "Sirens" sound, this grand-grand-grand-a thousand times grand-child of Ulysses has to resist the temptation and get his butt on that flight to Frankfurt/Thessaloniki...