Brazilian Tourist Blog - Part 2, Ouro Preto

We left São Paulo early in the morning and flew to the state capital of Minas Gerais, the city of Belo Horizonte.  The state of Minas Gerais is north of São Paulo in the mountainous interior of Brazil.  Gold was discovered there more than 300 years ago.  A gold rush ensued with fierce competition between Portuguese colonial rulers and explorers, the so-called bandeirantes, from São Paulo – who found the gold in the first place.  By the early 18^th century the Portuguese rulers had won the conflict and built a capital city in the middle of the mining area, Ouro Preto, literally black gold.  Ouro Preto, now a UNESCO World Heritage site, was our destination. We decided to try our luck traveling by bus since the roads to Ouro Preto are mountainous and rough and the area is completely unknown to us.  Travelling by bus is a safe, inexpensive option in Brazil especially for youthful or retired foreigners.  We easily found a bus from the airport into the central bus station, or rodoviária, in downtown Belo Horizonte.  Once there, we were in luck.  Buses leave for Ouro Preto every hour on the hour and the next bus, with reserved seats and air-conditioning, left 15 minutes after we bought our tickets!  Just enough time to go to the bathroom!  We discovered something quite delightful in Brazil.  Anyone over the age of 60, the official retirement age in this country, is an “idoso”, i.e., an elderly person.  Idosos are eligible for all sorts of discounts – often half price at museums and other tourist destinations.  More importantly, idosos can enter public bathrooms, which often charge between 50 centavos and as much as 2 reais ($0.20-0.80 USD) for free.  Given our over sixty status and the challenge of finding the right change at the right time, this was a blessing!!

We were happy to be driven by a skilled professional driver rather than driving ourselves.  It was raining hard and the route out of the city was complicated.  It was Election Day and traffic was very heavy for a Sunday afternoon. But from the comparative luxury of our nice dry bus, we saw huge eucalyptus trees with their wet bark bright red and green, newly washed by the rain.  I hoped it was raining in São Paulo where a prolonged drought has already led to limited or no water supplies in smaller communities around São Paulo.  Although the city’s reservoir system is extensive – planned to provide more than eight months of water in the absence of any rain, there has been virtually no rain all year – and the small amount of rain that has fallen recently is not close to enough to replenish the reservoirs.  The depleted reservoirs we saw a month ago when we drove around São Paulo reminded me of the low reservoirs in California.  It seems that a tropical country can suffer drought.  Even in Minas Gerais where it had started raining, we passed riverbeds where the channel was so low it barely flowed through the red dirt banks.  We traveled almost two hours to arrive in Ouro Preto, through twisty mountainous roads, past tiny little villages and many prosperous looking farms.  Here and there we’d see brilliant yellow or purple trees in full bloom, giving a festive feel to the forest.  Despite the low rivers, there does not seem to be a drought in Minas Gerais.

The Church of Nossa Senora do Carmo

We arrived at the bus station in Ouro Preto a little after four pm.  The rain had just stopped.  We walked the short distance to our inn (inns are called pousadas in Portuguese), pulling our wheeled suitcases over the wet cobblestones.  Fortunately the old cobblestones held fast beneath our feet.  The pervasive mist settled in over my shoulders and I hugged my backpack a little closer to my body.  The mist shrouded the hills around the town and rolled across the rooftops, giving the colonial buildings a veil of mystery.  Ouro Preto is set in a deep valley in the middle of the state of Minas Gerais.  Its beauty is a contrast to its history as a place of exploitation – its gold mines manned by slaves for the benefit of the Portuguese king and his court after his right was established through military action in the 1700’s.  Now the town is the peaceful home to artists and artisans and a favorite tourist destination.  It is full of beautiful colonial houses and architecturally significant churches with beautiful names – Nossa Senora da Canceiçâo; Santa Efigênia; São Francisco de Assis – the list is endless.  They are all striking – big and painted white and yellow with one or two square bell towers, set high above the mist and the hills.  Like all of Brazil, Ouro Preto and its churches have a faint feeling of decay – the white walls molding and the cobblestones worn.  But the steep streets beckon you to explore. 

Pouso do Chico Rey

Green parrots outside my window

The writing desk and lamp in my room

Sitting in my room on our first afternoon, two green parrots landed on the tree outside my window and engaged in a formal mating ritual – the male puffing up his brilliant green plumage and singing to the female who sat on the branch below looking coy and perhaps sexy to her mate.  In the morning as I looked across the valley I could see endless red tile roofs set at countless angles that gave my view a pleasing geometric symmetry.  I heard birds singing but also the modern world of buses and cars climbing the steep streets.  Our inn, Pouso do Chico Rei is more than 300 years old.  Fifty years ago it was a center for artists and poets.  Elizabeth Bishop stayed here in the garden room and wrote poetry and drank tea.  She ate the same succulent teacakes that the Dona served us yesterday when we arrived.  It is a place of inspiration – full of nooks and crannies that invite you to sit down and sketch or compose a short sonnet.  

The mantel shelf in the dining room

The walls are white washed and the window sashes are large and arched and all painted in a deep burgundy.  My room has three symmetrical windows with white wooden panes that frame the view.  There is a poem on the wall and a writing desk that I made good use of.  Everywhere you look in the inn, there is something beautiful - paintings, pots, framed poetry, old wooden furniture, small pieces of sculpture.  It is a place to linger and enjoy.

Minas Gerais is justifiably known for the quality of its cuisine.  Although it was the off season in Ouro Preto, we found ourselves eating in restaurants that served up food that I would put against anything I’ve had in fancy restaurant around the world.  Plus since everything is housed in beautiful colonial houses, eating out is like being part of living history!  One night we couldn’t resist the traditional dessert of fresh cheese, queijo fresco with preserved regional fruit.  Wow.  Another night my sister order a Kir Royale that came served so elegantly it deserved a picture.

The next day we explored the town, hoping that the sun would break through and burn the mist away.  And for some of the day it did although in the afternoon the sky opened up.  I had to buy an umbrella since it was simply too hot and humid for a raincoat.  Anywhere you walk in Ouro Preto you feel as if you are in a museum.  The streets are steep and cobblestoned.  Some were so precipitous we almost couldn’t walk down them safely – and we are in shape for sixty something’s!  We went first to the Museum of Oratories – a small, well-run museum full of oratories or devotional shrines for home use.  The oratories range from matchbox size to the size of a big front porch and in decoration from simple homespun paintings to gold leaf rococo.  More modern ones include fanciful combinations of cut out pictures, sequins, shells, glitter and tiny little figurines.  There were oratories made by slaves and oratories made by skilled artists for wealthy mine owners.  Some included devotionals only to traditional Christian figures, particularly the Virgin Mary, Nossa Senhora.  But others included devotionals to the spirits of trees and other plants and animals along with the regular Christian saints.   

The Church of São Francisco de Assis

We visited several incredible Baroque churches – quite different from the 20^th and 21^st century art we saw in São Paulo. One of my favorites, the church of São Francisco de Assis is decorated with beautiful gneiss and soapstone sculptures carved over many years by a famous Brazilian Baroque artist and architect, Aleijadinho.  One of his pieces that I loved was of life size lions that looked like monkeys!  The story goes that when Aleijadinho was asked to carve lions he said ‘how can I if I have never seen a lion?’  So he was told that lions look like great big monkeys but with a full mane of fur.  He did a remarkable job!  It is a privilege to visit this wonderful town.  When it was time to take the bus back to Belo Horizonte we felt we had only just begun to scratch its surface.

I plan to go back next year.

Brazilian Tourist Blog - Part 1, São Paulo beaches and the 31st Bienal

Graffiti on the Pier in Santos

For the past weeks I have been a happy (and well-fed) tourist in Brazil.  I hope my blogs – which I am finally able to start posting; internet coverage in the Amazon is flakey at times – describing the places I visited and the experiences I’ve had will encourage others to visit Brazil.  You will not be disappointed.  Traveling in Brazil is quite straight forward and safe even if your language skills are not that great.  And the effort is so worthwhile.

Together with my sister and brother-in-law, who were first time visitors to this amazing country, I’ve spent my time exploring familiar and unfamiliar places.  My husband Jeff met up with us in the Amazon but while we visited places further south, he continued his scientific studies of that biggest of all rivers.  We left Rio about a month ago for a short visit to Piracicaba – the upstate São Paulo town where my husband is a visiting professor.  Of course we spent a little time at our friends’ nearby charming goat farm.  From there we traveled almost 4000

A happy white goat

kilometers by car, plane, boat, bus and foot.  Although I have lived in and visited Brazil many times over the past 32 years, this trip juxtaposed multiple new aspects of three very different Brazilian states: São Paulo, Minas Gerais and Pará.  We visited two cities – the very big, São Paulo, with its 23 million inhabitants and the smaller state capital of Belo Horizonte in Minas Gerais; several thriving towns – Guarujá, Santos, Santarém; and a diversity of small villages, each with its own unique charm – Pereque with its fishing fleet, Ouro Preto, and Alter de Chão.  We were in highly urban, cosmopolitan places; and remarkably rural, often very poor places.  We hiked in the Amazon rainforest; we marveled at perfectly manicured tropical gardens and complete wilderness; we swam in the Atlantic Ocean, the Tapajós River and in black water igarapés (small, groundwater-fed forest streams); we visited museums and galleries, street art installations, churches and landscapes full of contemporary and baroque art of every kind – sound, sculpture, video, photography, paintings, and graffiti.  We explored the history, culture and ecology of Brazil.  We saw many types of birds and animals including botos – the pink Amazon River dolphin.  We ate like kings and queens with culinary experiences that ranged from downhome neighborhood bistros to fresh grilled tambaqui (a large delicious Amazon fish) on a remote beach to fine dining at restaurants that should be or are internationally famous. 

The fishing fleet at Pereque on a grey day

When my sister left, she told me that their visit to Brazil was a trip of a lifetime.  I have to agree. I will post several blogs over the next few weeks focusing on the highlights of our visits.  During this time we also experienced national and local elections in the United States and Brazil.  Like many of our friends in both countries, we feel the magnitude of the challenges and divergent political perspectives that both of these huge countries face.

Museu do Café, Santos

Our tourist trip began with a drive from Piracicaba around the immense urban development that is the world’s third largest city, São Paulo.  Our destination was the offshore beaches of Guarujá for a few days of sun.  But the sun refused to cooperate!  While we had one day of relaxing on white sandy beaches, we spent two less sunny days hiking primitive beach trails and exploring the adjacent city of Santos.  Santos is the largest port in South America and it is one of the oldest.  Like Guarujá, Santos is an island and can, as a result, accommodate a very large number of cargo ships.  Our first destination was the Museum of Coffee, a 1920’s building in the colonial historical center.  The building is appropriately described as eclectic and is the former Brazilian Coffee Stock Exchange.  It includes of course, a coffee bar where we drank the best cup of espresso I have had in Brazil.  Coffee was the nineteenth century source of wealth to the state of São Paulo and the museum was full of interesting exhibits and objects about coffee’s golden age.  For someone who loves coffee and owns not one but two gigantic Italian espresso machines, the museum’s celebration of the delicious dark brown bean was greatly appreciated.    Afterwards we visited Santos’ beachfront and explored the commissioned graffiti art on a large waterfront pier. 

The pier was restored to commemorate the 100^th anniversary of immigration and contributions of Japanese Brazilians.  A lot of people don’t realize that there is a big Japanese Brazilian population in Brazil – although you might guess it from the popularity of sushi!  Graffiti is a well-developed art form in Brazil – a far cry from its random origin as spray paint scribbles.  We saw extraordinary examples of commissioned and non-commissioned graffiti in many places but the pieces on the pier in Santos were among my favorite.   In the 1930s Brazilian surfing began in Santos when Oscar Gonçalves pioneered the sport, but by the sixties and seventies the beaches had become too polluted to use.  More recently the pollution was cleaned up and the city built beautiful gardens along the mosaic beachfront boardwalk and established a publically funded surf school.  On the day we visited, we saw surfers of all ages and met the man who runs the surf school.  This school has a program that teaches children and people with disabilities, including blind people to surf.  It is an impressive operation for a town that I had been told is a dirty commercial port. 

A Surfista Sculpture in front of the 1st Public Surf School in Brazil

Our next stop was the big city itself, São Paulo.  We stayed in a central and safe neighborhood, Jardim Paulista.  After checking into our hotel, we walked to a neighborhood bistro for a meal of Brasilian style gnocchi made out of manioc instead of potatoes with filet mignon in a Madeira and mushroom sauce.  The place was classic Brazil, full of folks from the neighborhood enjoying Thursday dinner out.  I know why.  The food was delicious and the service impeccable.  Colorful signed and unsigned futebol (soccer) jerseys from famous professional teams and less famous local clubs hung from the ceiling.  The waiter told us that many futebol players eat at the restaurant and give them their jerseys to display.

The next day, despite the fact that we were in a gigantic urban center, our breakfast (café de manha) included a farm offering of traditional cakes, corn breads and farm eggs as well as tropical juices and fruits, sliced ham and cheese, pão ƒrança (little French rolls), and coffee with hot milk.  After breakfast we walked about 2 kilometers to Ibirapuera Park the site of the 31^st Bienal de São Paulo.  The walk was through a bustling mostly residential neighborhood and felt safe.  The hotel concierge had told us not to worry about safety during the day and of course we used the same urban awareness that we use in big cities anywhere in the world.  The park reminded me of a smaller Central Park – it is a well used and well kept green space in the middle of a dense urban area, complete with small lakes, sculpture gardens, fountains, flowering trees, athletic fields and several world class museums.  The Bienal

The interior ramps at the Bienal Pavilion

is a celebration of contemporary art housed in a purpose built pavilion designed by Oscar Niemeyer – arguably one of the twentieth century’s most accomplished architects.  The building is typical of Niemeyer structures – it is concrete and white; it sits above the ground as if floating in air; its interior is massive, airy and compelling with sinuous galleries that beckon the visitor to explore.  The theme of the 31^st Bienal is “Como Falar de Coisas que Não Existem” or in English “How to speak of things that don’t exist”.  The Bienal includes more than 250 works by over a hundred invited international artists.  The exhibits express in multiple different art forms the challenge of living and yet still working in the midst of conflict; imagination; and community transformation.

Graffiti on the Public Bathrooms in Ibirapuera Park

I loved staying in the urban center of São Paulo and going to the Bienal.  I am no expert on art but the Bienal was an experience to remember.  It is ridiculous to speak in hyperbole – fantastic; surprising; awesome; stunning – all words are inadequate to describe the Bienal reality.  It is the experience of being in the pavilion with its harsh concrete spaces and the brutal feeling of the unfinished cement walls contrasting with art of all kinds.  En route to the pavilion, we walked through a skateboard area in the park.  The skateboard area is purpose built – itself a huge expanse of smooth concrete with a roof held up by cylindrical columns.  Young teens were inline skating and boarding in organized chaos, practicing new routines and signature moves.  It reminded me of the warm ups before ice skating competitions when all the competitors twirl and jump together, respecting the rhythm and space of the others.  Graffiti murals decorated the walls of central public bathrooms, commissioned pieces of the most basic urban art form – a great introduction to the Bienal itself.

Inside the Bienal, we wandered through spaces that continuously opened up to a new artist or collaborative installation.  Individual works range from more traditional paintings and photographs to sculptures; videos; tactile environments; found objects and experiential displays – a complete mishmash of styles.  I remember flashes of art, virtually all artists I had never heard of but will now look for – Halil Altindere’s video of disenfranchised youth in Istanbul; the grainy photos of Tony Chakar mixed with his poetry and Baudelaire’s – found faces revealed in the background of other images; the sharp incisive photos of poverty in Salvador and Bahia, stark interiors, deserted streets, empty fields; Jo Baer’s paintings and Anna Boghiguian’s honeycombs, her drawings and poetry – the City of Rivers; Bruno Pacheco’s luminous paintings of the English uplands and wooly polka dotted hats; a violent collage about an international tragedy – the street murder of young men; Juan Downey’s painted maps of Continental Drift and the Amazon basin; and Walid Raad’s open frames of stories never told and yet forgotten.  This is just a partial inventory of the art we saw – one video, which consisted entirely of interviews with Jews either out in the open or still living in secret in São Paulo made my heart ache for the pain our world imposes on those who believe in something else.  That night we walked to a nearby Argentinian restaurant and ate meat that melted in my mouth and watched tango dancers undulate in the spare space.

The next day we visited Brazil’s largest and most well known art museum, MASP or Museu des Artes de São Paulo.  Despite my life long love affair with impressionists, I found most of the painting very traditional after seeing the thought provoking pieces at the Bienal.  The MASP building itself is impressive, set on multiple levels high above traffic-choked arterials.  When we stood on the MASP terrace on famous Avenida Paulista – São Paulo’s 5^th Avenue – we counted six layers of urban infrastructure (arterials; viaducts; pipes; wires; public and private buildings) looking only down.  Inside, the familiar warmth of Renoir greeted us on cold cement walls.  We saw Vuillard and Monet, Turner and Constable.  The one featured contemporary artist, Julian Schnabel was not to my liking.  His work did not offend me but was not attractive enough to interest me.  It was perhaps only notable for its outsized size.  Curiously the only Schnabel we liked was printed as a small poster on the back of his brochure!

The Fawn in Trianon Park

Later we visited the lovely Trianon Park right across the street – yet another safe feeling (at least in the day time) tropical green space.  We walked past the sculpture of the fawn that guards the park.  We followed Avenida Paulista to visit Casa das Rosas.  There we sat outdoors in the garden café amid box hedges and orchids and ate delicious chicken pies and drank ice cold beer.  Formerly the private home of a wealthy Paulistano, it now belongs to a foundation that promotes poetry and literature.  After lunch, we toured the big house.  When we walked in, a young poet asked me if I wanted to buy a book of his poetry.  For less than $10 I did.  By way of thanks he signed it and wrote me a short poem in English – although he barely spoke a word.  I think it will be an inspiration to write more poetry.  We should all be writing poetry or making art to explore the wonder of each day.  Perhaps we can write just short verses or haikus to help the power of words inspire the world to change.  Perhaps all of us can create the kind of art that the Bienal inspires.

Living in Rio Part 2

Riding Orangina in Urca

Jeff and I have been living in Rio for almost three weeks now.  We’ve joined a gym; taken the Metro (safe, easy and clean); eaten at our neighborhood restaurants; enjoyed the live music in sidewalk cafés; watched beach soccer (futebol) games where the skill levels of the barefoot players are mind boggling; been very impressed with the large number of small, elegantly coiffed neighborhood dogs we meet on the street; had friends over for dinner and generally started to feel quite at home.  We are looking forward to a visit later this week from my sister and her husband.

Sunday was an important day in Brazil – it was Election Day and a critical one for the country with the presidential race in the forefront.  The candidates present very different views of the future.  The result?  We, along with every Brazilian, will have to wait – there will be a runoff election (second round) on October 26 between the top two vote getters, leftist incumbent Dilma Rousseff and the right centrist Aécio Neves.  Although we expected to see some late campaigning – or at least a few trucks cruising down Avenida Atlantica with loud speakers blaring and flags flying – it was a peaceful day in our neck of the woods.  To be fair, we saw more than the usual municipal police and some federal guards along the beaches and in the public places.  But they too seemed to be enjoying the warm sunny day, as they watched families and friends bike, skateboard, walk, run and play in the good weather.  In the morning, there was more activity along our street than on a regular Sunday as people went to and from their voting.  There is a small fine in Brazil if you don’t vote, so turnouts are high.  I wonder if such a system might improve the embarrassingly low turnouts in the USA.  But regardless, everyone we saw, and we were in many parts of the city throughout the day, appeared to be out and about enjoying the fine weather.  None of this is to assume contentment – the runoff election is on everyone’s mind.  It will be hotly contested over the next three weeks.  Although we are only visitors in Brazil, both my husband and I are very interested to see how it plays out. 

Pão de Açúcar cable car landing peeks over Urca

On a more trivial note, Jeff and I spent Election Day continuing our exploration of Rio by orange bike.  During our bike ride I named my rented “steed” Orangina.  I rode Orangina for more than three hours and it seemed appropriate to give the bike a name.  I use the word steed since these bikes are not the light carbon, custom fit road bikes that Jeff and I have the privilege of owning and riding in Seattle.  These bikes are workhorses, big steel clunkers with sturdy tires and robust frames that bump over curbs and potholes like storm troopers. On Sunday, our goal was to bike from Copacabana out to an older section of Rio, Flamengo, where more separated bike lanes border large open parks and smaller but equally beautiful beaches.  The bike lanes in Rio continue to impress me.  They are easy to find, all painted red and at many intersections, include bike specific traffic lights that cars and buses seem to heed.  We followed the trail under the tunnel that leads from Copacabana to the next neighborhood, Botafogo and turned off into Urca – the adjacent neighborhood, famous for the cable cars that take you up to the top of the giant rock Pão de Açúcar or Sugar Loaf.  Urca is a smaller residential neighborhood of mostly older houses and a series of small sandy coves full of brightly painted boats.  Bougainvillea and oleander bloom over the high walls and pretty gardens that line the streets.  There was a festive feel in the air – was this normal for Sunday or was it perhaps the relief of the election finally happening?  The sidewalks were full of people walking and talking.  A few fishermen were trying their luck, casting off the seawall that edges the bay.  Sailboats flew over the water and the iconic cable cars of Pão de Açúcar passed in the distance high overhead. 

Christo overlooks Rio

From the road where we cycled we could see Corcovado with the famous art deco statue of Christo, Christ the Redeemer, stretching his arms out over the city.  I am not in the slightest bit religious but the sight of Christo overlooking the city is wonderful – perhaps because it is a surprise in so many parts of the city to look up and catch a glimpse of this enduring symbol – sort of like suddenly catching sight of the Eiffel Tower in Paris or even the top of the Space Needle in my own home city of Seattle.  Somehow these sightings are both comforting and compelling.  Oh yes I think to myself, I am in Rio, or Paris, or Seattle.  It makes me happy and I suspect such sightings are equally confirming to many people.  We continued our bike ride out to Flamengo, then reversed direction, going back under the tunnel and finally pedaled to the end of Leblon and back to Copacabana.  We were tired and returned Orangina and her pal to one of the Rio Bike stands.  A walk along the beach, jumping the waves at water’s edge took us home to our local bar.  Once seated, we listened to the guitarist, drank ice cold chopp (draft beer) and watched in awe as several young men jumped off the steep rock cliffs into the surf.

On Monday morning my neighborhood hosted a small farmers market in the nearby praça.  The stands were full of colorful fruits and vegetables, artisanal cheese, fresh farm eggs and many other delicious wares.  Two stands were selling an amazing selection of fresh seafood and another was full of local organic chicken.  The diversity and quality of the goods was impressive.  I filled my shopping bag with many tasty looking items.  I am excited that this street market or feira as it is called, comes to my neighborhood every Monday.  For sure I’ll be back next week.  Rio continues to charm us – it is a wonderful place to visit and living here for a few weeks makes our experience all that much better.

The best radicchio ever...