Written on 5th Nov 2010, taken from my blog: http://www.getjealous.com/getjealous.php?action=showdiaryentry&diary_id=1852389&go=bridgetkramer
Devin, Bonni, and myself had resolved on venturing from Uruguay to Brazil. We first had to overcome the visa-obtaining hurdle. We woke up early on the Tuesday morning, packed up our mochilas, walked the dirt roads of Punta del Diablo (accompanied by dogs) to the "bus stop". We caught a local bus to Chuy, a small Uruguayan "city" that borders with Brazil. Bonni, utilising her superior Spanish knowledge, asked the bus driver where we needed to go to get visas for Brazil. Naturally, we were dropped off at the wrong place. He'd left us at the Uruguayan border control building, so we handed over our passports, they were stamped for our exit of Uruguay and given back. With everyone involved being confused, we realised this was not where you get your visa, so we tried asking again, and the man gave us some directions and said he'd call a taxi for us. So we got in the taxi, asked the driver to take us where people get visas for Brazil, and he, naturally, took us to the wrong place. He took us to the Brazilian border control place, so we were filling out forms, thinking they were for obtaining visas. When the officials realised we were from countries that require visas for entry into Brazil, they asked us if we had them, we said no and that we had to get them. THEN we were finally told the correct place to go. Just another example of how things are never as simple as they could or should be, in South America.
We caught another taxi to the Brazilian Consulate in Chuy. It looked more like a paediatrician's building than a consulate, but it works. We were easily able to communicate that we needed visas. All we had to do was fill out an online form, give the guy our money for processing, hand over our passports, have a photo taken and bam, visa for Brazil. (turns out that whole yellow fever vaccine thing wasn't necessary. Super.) It sounds simple, but the entire process took no less than 4 hours. Nothing beats waiting in a Brazilian consulate for 4 hours with nothing to do but go a little bonkers from boredom. That said, the cleaning lady did keep bringing us coffee. So then we had energy for.. sitting. Fabulous.
After finally receiving our visas, we made our way to the bus terminal of Chuy to find a bus heading north towards warmth, sunshine and happiness. We wanted to go to Florianopolis. As luck would have it, only one bus leaves for Florianopolis each week, and you can safely presume that we didn't happen to be there on that particular day. But, we could get a bus that evening to Porto Alegre, and then get one to Florianopolis. Very doable. The next bus for Porto Alegre was leaving at 11.30 that night. So we had about 6 hours to kill in Chuy. Fantastic. What could we do? Devin bought a hip flask of whisky, and we killed some time in the park, drinking the whisky and getting inappropriately hit on by two local boys of 12 and 14. At first they asked for cigarettes, but soon after they asked for a kiss. Just another day in South America. We found a pizza place and managed to kill most of the hours eating and gas-bagging, and drinking more whisky.
One overnight bus later and we were in the Brazilian city of Porto Alegre. It was at this point that we realised that it probably would have been beneficial to at least look up some Brazilian phrases. We needed to try and figure out how to compare prices between the companies for buses to Florianopolis in a language that none of us were familiar with. Thanks to the use of short, one-word sentences and many hand gestures, we found a suitably priced (we think) bus to Florianopolis. One bumpy bus ride later (sealed roads that are actually sealed are all but non-existent) we were in Florianopolis!
A young blonde girl is waiting alone with a huge backpack in a Brazilian bus terminal. She is approached by a Brazilian man who says he can take her in his car and show her some great places to stay at during her time in the area. She should ignore him, no? On paper, it doesn't look all that good, but granted I was waiting for the girls who had gone to the bathroom, and the Brazilian had been speaking to an older, bigger, Canadian man who was travelling a similar path to us, it didn't seem like all that bad an idea. We were grateful that Alejandro (don't you worry, the Lady Gaga reference did not bypass me) spoke Spanish, so we were actually able to communicate with him. We told him we wanted to stay at a hostel, but he told us about these apartments we could rent that would work out to be cheaper for us. Of course he was getting commission from these places, but what do we care about that, we want cheap accommodation! So, after chatting with Alejandro for a while, and deciding that he most likely wasn't going to sell us into sex slavery if we had the big Canadian with us, we got into Alejandro's car. We cramp in with our backpacks, I can't find a seatbelt, but figure we were that tightly squeezed that if we were to get into an accident, I was firmly enough packed in that I wouldn't get thrusted forward. Alejandro starts blasting the 90s hip hop, bopping away, and shows us a pile of letters that other foreigners he has helped have written about him. Just to assure us that he wasn't from one of those gangs from 'City of God'.
The island - Ilha de Santa Catarina - was perfect. It was warm, sunny and it had beaches, everything we wanted! Alejandro took us to an apartment in an area called Barra de Lagoa, right near a beach, owned by a Brazilian couple that only spoke Portuguese, but had a dog named 'Magoo' after 'Mr. Magoo'. We took the apartment, and had a little trouble shaking Alejandro off, even after paying him and giving him a more than sufficient tip. This was especially frustrating as I was just coming down with some kind of stomach bug. I don't know what it was from, but it prevented me from leaving my bed since arriving at the apartment until the next morning. It was enough for me to want to do the 'All Bran' challenge completely in a few hours in order to regain regularity. Alas, it was not to be.
The days in Barra de Lagoa were mostly spent lying on the beach, swimming in the ocean, not understanding Portuguese, and getting stuck watching the Brazilian soap operas. Really cannot complain at all. It was amazing to have a holiday within a holiday. One morning I went for a swim in the ocean and was joined by two street dogs. Pretty special stuff. The fruit was amazing, and we probably consumed about 80 litres of juice. With my stomach bug plaguing me the entire time we were there, and Devin herself falling ill with something else, we didn't really go out at night. But that was ok, because there were fabulous soap operas to watch! Teenage lovers torn apart when one of their grandmother's is arrested (at least I think that's what was happening...) The most important thing is that we found warmth, beaches, sunshine and happiness. As was the initial purpose of the adventure. Even if that does mean being openly propositioned for sex by Brazilians on the beach (ok, it was only one time, but it doesn't make it any less weird).
I didn't want to leave the ocean, but I had committed to two more weeks of Spanish class in Buenos Aires, so I needed to get back. In order to avoid the compulsory $100US entry fees Aussies pay when entering Buenos Aires airport, I caught two planes - Florianopolis - Porto Alegre, Porto Alegre - Montevideo (Uruguay), with the intention of getting a bus from Montevideo to Buenos Aires. After the drama of getting myself from our apartment to Florianopolis airport (it involved either several breakdowns in communication, people giving me false information, or people just not knowing what they were talking about), I got into Porto Alegre. Naturally, there were dramas here too. For some reason, I wasn't allowed to enter the departures gate until the time was EXACTLY what my ticket said the 'boarding time' was. Weird. Then someone tried to tell me I wasn't checked in. I wasn't? After running around, trying to communicate in some strange Portuguese/Spanish/English/sign language hybrid (it was getting close to my boarding time now), I found where I was supposed to re check in. Did that, and then learnt that my flight was delayed by 2 hours. Lucky. I spent my last Brazilian Reales on McDonald's, and waited until it was EXACTLY what my new boarding time was. They still wouldn't let anyone in. I'm not quite sure what the harm of passengers waiting in the departure lounge before boarding time is.. and I don't think I will ever be. Eventually we were let through, made it through immigrations, and I was on my flight to Montevideo. Arrived in Montevideo, grateful to be in a Spanish-speaking country, asked how I could get to the bus terminal, and caught a local bus into town to the bus terminal. I could see 3 buses that evening that were going to Buenos Aires. Thanks to my luck, none of these three buses had any available seats. What to do now? I saw that a bus was leaving in 10 minutes to Colonia del Sacramento. Not wanting to stop moving, and knowing that Colonia is closer to Buenos Aires than Montevideo, I found myself buying a ticket to Colonia and getting on the bus. Just as the bus was pulling out of the terminal, it dawned on me that maybe it would have been better to stay in Montevideo? After all, it is the capital... I could buy a ticket to Buenos Aires for the morning, and easily find a bed for the night, no? Damn it. Suddenly regretting my decision to go to Colonia, and being really angry with myself, all I could do was sleep. After waking up in a daze, feeling a bit calmer, I realised that the only way to get from Colonia to Buenos Aires is via ferry. And that it was the middle of the night, and therefore, highly unlikely that any ferries would be running at that hour. So I resolved to find a bed for the night in Colonia, and find a ferry to Buenos Aires in the morning, meaning I would just have to miss my first day back at class. It's a small price to pay for sanity. As soon as I walked out of the bus terminal at Colonia, there were signs pointing towards a hostel. Follow them, I shall! And I did. And it led me to a hostel in an old old building, with available beds, so many that I was able to have a room to myself. Granted it was Halloween, and I was in a building that is probably older than white Australia, and I hadn't had much sleep, I was a little paranoid that I was going to get possessed that night by some colonial prostitute ghost. Thankfully, that didn't happen. I slept well, didn't get haunted, found a ferry leaving for Buenos Aires just before lunch time, bought a ticket, wandered around the town a bit and got my butt back to what has become my home, for now.
Things I learnt from this adventure? I should stop expecting things to work out easily. It's most likely buses won't be leaving when you want them to, or if they are, they won't have seats for you. It's not unusual to get sick. Travelling solo is fantastic because it allows you to have spontaneous adventures with people you just met. Portuguese is a messed up language. I know more Spanish than I give myself credit for. And, South America is dog country.
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