Sunday Feb. 10, 2008
After 7 nights in Uruguay I entered Brazil at Chuy on the Atlantic coast. This was only going to be a short visit of Brazil though. I wanted to get to Puerto Iguazu, Argentina to see the falls and catch up on my chores before returning and heading up to Rio de Janeiro.
I was excited because this is after all Brazil, with it's famous beaches and Amazon rainforest. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous about entering a country with a language I don't speak (89% of the world's Portuguese speaking people live here), one as physically large as this and home to more than 170 million people. For comparison, here's the population of some other South American countries:
Argentina 37 million
Bolivia 8.8 million
Chile 15.5 million
Colombia 45 million
Ecuador 12 million
Paraguay 5.8 million
Peru 28 million
Uruguay 3.5 million
Venezuela 25 million
The border crossing was almost empty and everything went surprisingly quickly. It certainly was unlike any other country I'd been to before, but really, how bad could it be? Just look at the customs agent.
After the border I rode a long, narrow piece of land between two lakes next to the ocean for quite a while and saw several large guinea pig type animals named Capybara (the world's largest rodent) at the edge of the water next to the road, along with a few Crocodiles (I think).
I met Richard, a retired Canadian now living with his Brazilian wife Tania in Porto Alegre, through the Horizon's Unlimited community (an overlanders website) a few weeks back and I was looking forward to meeting them in person. They'd invited to me stay at their house when I came by and I'd gladly accepted one night, my first night, in this strange new country. It was not only a real treat to talk to a fellow Canuck again, but it was absolutely incredible hearing how Tania survived a terrible accident a few years ago that almost cost her her life. Obviously her strong spirit, Richard and God were the reason for her amazing recovery.
I couldn't help but feel guilty as I was treated like royalty, but they wouldn't let me do anything to help, so I just tried to enjoy our short visit while getting a few things done. Richard is a veteran motorcyclist and they'd just gotten back from a weekend rally on his economical new Yamaha Fazer 250. Economical is important here in Brazil because the price of gasoline (with its 24% alcohol instead of octane) is hovering around $5.70 US / gal. More expensive than any other country in the Americas I think.
Before I left the next day Richard and Tania escorted me to the local Suzuki dealership to see if they had any parts in stock for Buzz, but they didn't, although I did confirm that prices for moto stuff is VERY high in Brazil (probably twice that of the US). After seeing several DL1000's from Brazil on my trip I also learned that they actually manufacture them here, so that's what they sell (unlike Colombia which is mostly DL650's). Strange though that the DL1000 is popular here, with the price of gas so high. I guess I'm starting to see the huge gap between the haves and have-nots.
While in the showroom I saw a nice looking, used Yamaha Super Teniere, but I had to ask what the telescopic pointer type gadget with a hook on the top, sticking straight up from the handlebars was for. They told me it was to catch the very strong and nearly invisible kite strings that sometimes lay across roads when kids loose their kites (or maybe not). Wow, there's a road hazard I never thought of (although it brought back memories of two boys holding a rope across the highway in Mexico that made me lock-up my brakes).
In the parking lot behind the store there were several large moto club emblems and every Wednesday they had a moto night. I was just learning that Brazilians have a much more passionate relationship with motos than I'd seen anywhere else.
After Richard and Tania lead me out of town I headed northwest along a beautiful twisty 2-lane highway in the hills through several very pleasant, small, European style towns that were clean and full of flowers.
I also saw several photo radar speed control stations on the highway as I rode through some of these towns. It displayed a red or green light and then my speed, and occasionally, if I happened to not slowdown quite enough, it would snap a picture of my front plate (which of course I don't have). I soon learned to wave.
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I arrived in Passo Fundo that evening and was having a little trouble finding a campsite or hotel with safe parking when I asked some military police (Brigida) that were checking vehicle documents on a side street for some help. The one fellow I talked to was very friendly and when I told him I was looking for a cheap place to stay for the night he pointed to a love motel (pay by the hour) at the end of the street. He said it was secure, and to tell them I wanted it for the whole night and that he sent me, then they would give me a significant discount - which they did. It was by far the strangest hotel I've ever stayed in. Everything was automated. From the computer screen and voice at the automated garage door at the entrance to the automated garage door on the room with television, lights and fan turned on as I parked Buzz next to my bed. I never saw a or spoke to a human being (until I tried to walk out to get dinner).
As I walked back up the street the police were getting their horses out of the trailer for their night rounds and I couldn't help think how much they reminded me of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). My helpful friend was more than happy to pose for a picture with me.
As a side note, in most countries down here when a driver wants to turn left off the highway, he turns on his left signal and pulls over to the right shoulder where he waits until traffic is clear and then he crosses the road. Now I know why people used to honk their horns at me when I turned on my left signal and stopped in the road.
The countryside here was lush and rich with crops and trees and the soil was a bright red that tracked out onto the asphalt from the side roads and fields.
But that was it for my first visit into Brazil and I crossed back into Argentina at Porto Zavier on a small ferry powered by a little tugboat for another night of camping. The days were getting noticeably shorter now as I traveled north.
I stopped briefly in San Ignacio for a quick walkabout of the interesting Jesuit ruins.
After seeing several beautiful farm fields near the quiet little town of Ruiz de Montoya, some of them tea, I stopped to ask a farmer if I could camp on his land. He insisted it would be better if I camp in his yard on the grass near the old barn and park Buzz in the carpark for the night. He was an old motorcyclist himself from Switzerland and he exported 50% of his tea crops (black, green and red) to Canada, so I had a nice visit with this very friendly man and his wife.
YPF is the main gasoline company in Argentina and is government owned. Surprisingly, whenever I get near a border where the gasoline is more expensive in the neighboring country, YPF will have two prices: One for locals and another for non-locals. For the life of me I can't figure out why a business wouldn't want to sell more of their product (hence, more profit no?). But the other gas stations haven't got the same regulations and so, for example, Shell will sell it to anyone for somewhere in between YPF's local and non-local price.
I made a quick stop to look at a few stones in a store near a precious stones mine, but it seemed to me they were selling more semi and non-precious stones. What do I know?
Finally I was in Puerto Iguazu. A small town in a northern peninsula of Argentinean land between Paraguay and Brazil where I would visit the incredible Iguazu falls. They didn't disappoint.
After a day visiting the magnificent falls I stayed put for a while in a cheap hostal getting organized to re-enter big old Brazil. I also spent time looking into visa requirements for Venezuela and shipping info to Miami. Wish me luck!
PS. After sharing many hostal dorm rooms with people I've been told that I sometimes talk in my sleep. It's something I already knew, and usually only happens when I'm very tired. But, I was surprised to learn that sometimes it's in Spanish! Guess that means it's starting to sink in a little.
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