Not that far from 'home'

Not long ago I was saying that living in Brussels for an Italian feels like living in Italy. My observation finds confirmation once again in the bus service in Brussels. Waiting for the bus is likely to take much longer than the actual ride. Taking two metro lines might paradoxically be an even faster solution. Guess what, in Italy you can't rely on any bus, while timetables are to be taken as an opinion rather than a fact. I have no experience of bus service in the very developed north of my country, but what 'comforts' me is that according to Bruno Bozzetto they are totally unreliable. To conlcude, if Brussels is Europe, I would then suggest Bruno Bozzetto to make some changes in the bus scene (and the bureaucracy scene too) of his video 'Europe and Italy' (excellent video for the rest :))

Petite Italie

Fact.

There is this nice little place in Brussels where all Italians come together. Many are young and bright expats, fed up with their youth-unfriendly country, yet nostalgic and with a touching Italianness. Piola.Libri is a library-wine-bar, it is THE Italian library in Brussels, and clearly a lovely cultural space. Probably it is just too small to host its wide population of fans and friends, but perhaps it is rather the numbers to be blamed. Italians are historically a folk of migrants and in Belgium they represent one of the biggest communities. La petite Italie is actually not so petite. The known fact is that Italians are everywhere, they really are, but I'm dazed by the fact that since I'm here in Brussels I've spoken much more Italian than in the last three years I've spent abroad and travelling around. And that happens also when my interlocutor is not Italian. Here I've so far found French, Polish, Germans, Dutch, British and Romanians all more than happy to practice their Italian with me. I think they are all way too fluent! 

For an Italian it really isn't challenging to live in Brussels. I'd say it's rather more challanging for a Dutch. They experience a cultural schock whenever something doesn't work as expected. Italians have clearly different standards as they are already used to a place where things do NOT work, or actually work much worse. Sometimes, Brussels feels like a piece of Mediterranean, chaotic, mixed, diverse, and bureaucratically confused, but then with a heavy weather and the stiff northern way of relating to other people in general. Not that this really counts, because the Brussels we live in is an international bubble, where no many Bruxellois/Brusselaars are left. 

This said, few days ago we went to Berlin and were surprised to find a sort of Little Italy there as well. Around the world, big little Italies can be found almost anywhere in the USA, then in Cananda, in São Paulo, in the UK and in Ireland...., and if I don't know of any Little Italy in China, Vietnam, Japan or Tanzania is just because, in case, I prefer to be left with the surprise!

TAXI jungle

Today, Monday 18 was the day of the national strike also in Belgium, but the fun unexpectedly started already last night. We were coming back from The Netherlands and after Visé, the contrôleur checked our tickets and said 'good luck tonight, there will be no more trains in the direction of Brussels after ten o'clock!', so we asked whether there were bus or any other alternative to get home...and he, helplessly, replied 'Mais non, c'est la Belgique!'. It was 21.30. We can just make it, we thought. But once arrived in Liege, where we had to change train, we realized that all trains were being cancelled, and it was not yet 22:00. All employees of the nmbs (National Railway Company of Belgium) had it written on their faces: help yourselves, we're going to bed. All happy about it :-/

So, there was no bus, no service, dubious people seeming to profit of the situation...but plenty of taxi's. When asking them how much they wanted to bring us to Brussels, their first reply was 200 euro...which eventually got down til 125euro. Do-able. In the general confusion people asked one another where they were going, taxi drivers were even offering themselves to go to Maastricht, Leuven or any other place. People were creating teams and taxi-drivers were making agreements with groups of people (such as: 'Wait for me here, I'll take them to Maastricht and then I come and take you to Brussels'), unbelievable. 

The best part came when we had found our "Brussels' buddies" and a taxi driver was willing to drive us to the capital. While we were walking to his taxi, another taxi-driver came saying that we had to go with him because we had agreed with him before. Mr A replied that no, he was first. Mr B insisted that he had been the very first. A Ms C suddenly popped into the discussion saying that we had also taked to her. But Mr A insisted that he had been the first we had talked to and Mr B replied saying that it could not be the case because he was the first in line. Ms C then was supporting Mr B reminding to Mr A that there are rules taxi-drivers are bound to. Enlightening and threatening, she said 'C'est la gare!!!'. Apparently we had violeted all rules of taxi conduct at train station. They were fighting and screaming to each other. Mr B's words: 'I'm from Iran and you're from Morocco, but I was first in line!'. Despite Mr A was really the first of them we had talked to, Mr B didn't want to hear anything of all that. To my surprise they insisted fighting between them, but they were not lowering the price to convince us who to go with. To my dismay, we were in difficulty, a hundred kilometers away from home, in the cold of the night, and no one seemed to care about that.

After a while, Mr A got tired of that and walked away saying to Mr B 'alright, they are yours'. And we could finally go. Mr B was really silent on the way to Brussels. He was sorry and proud at the same time. 'Did you really talked to him first???' he kept asking...honestly, the only thing I wanted was to get over those 100km and be home. Luckily the Congolese guy travelling with us was full of good humor and made us laugh by commenting how bad were Belgian roads even compared to the ones of Congo! Finally, we got home. Before closing my eyes I mentally calculated that the Belgian strike had costed me like ten one-way Ryanair offer-tickets from Sicily to Oslo...

Successful multilingualism?

I ended up in Luxembourg by total accident. One of those typical Italian things, I'd say, which made my blood boil at first, but then turned out to be the coolest experience I could ever imagine. The chance to discuss about youth, democracy, arts and culture with a group of leaders from five different countries was unique and highly inspirational. Bloody lucky, I repeat. 

Though what I wanted to reflect upon on this blog, is the funny multilinguistic experiment Luxembourg appears to be. The first thing that struck me was the fact that local newspapers were litterally bilingual. One side French, other side German. Whereas in Belgium they are either in French or Flemish. The two together, never. Luxembourgish people speak three languages, French, German and Luxembourgish, the latter being an interesting sort of German with a lot of French in it, and with an equally interesting history. Funnily enough, some (few) locals, despite trilingual, may speak no word of English!

Having said that, the population of Luxembourg is very much international, with almost 40% of the total population coming from abroad. The Portuguese and Italian communities are visibly the biggest ones and Portuguese newspapers are available even at a bus stop. Now, imagine this: you are Portuguese and married a Serbian who came to Luxembourg as asylum seeker from former Yugoslavia. Your kid speaks Serbian and Portuguese at home, the three official languages of the state at school and in society, and he can of course speak English...so six. Six languages he didn't even choose to learn. They were a given. Just fantasy? Nope. This case is actually reality. And I am amazed!

The pleasure of doing NADA

Today I've done nothing all day and it has been a lovely day. I woke up at 12 am and before I realized it was already 12pm. What I have done is to skype and chat with friends all day long! Virtually, I've brought friends around this lovely little house we've got, shared a chocolate mousse with Jola in Den Haag, sensed the emotions in Brazil before the elections, and then jumped to Rome picturing myself five years younger. I've made a tour on the map of California with my rockstar cousin and checked how much was a bus from Paris to Brussels (too cheap for not having been there yet). And when I was looking for the Jasmine tea bags, I found instead the Estonian liquor Tatjana had brought us from Tallinn. So, I didn't move a foot and yet my day has been quite international. Olé.

Internet, mon amour

1991 is the year. Among that year's occurences: the Soviet Union collapsed, Sweden won the Eurovision Song Contest, the Mercosur was established, Comedy Central was launched, and most important...the world wide web was born!

After having been 16 days without internet, I came to the conclusion that is one of the best things the first world has, together with education and health care (...and beer festivals, absolutely). You really can no longer do anything without it. How else would you look for a job these days?! And what about the need to be connected to the world, immersed in the knowledge society, or wasted on facebook and msn chat. Ah! Luxury and necessity it is.

La Grande Place aux milles couleurs

Everybody seems to escape Brussels during summertime. I blame them! Of all places in Europe, this is definitely not among the worst ones, quite the contrary instead. Yes, it is not really a summer destination, no pizza, no Ibiza, but it does have plenty of fun stuff to do. I'm all in for its music and beer festivals. I like this language craziness that you never know which one to use and end up using them all. I like it's kind of messy and not compulsively organized as in the Netherlands. It's an international, colourful place, just like the Grande Place/Grote Markt in these summer nights...

La Sicile, c'est un rêve...

Arrived in Brussels few days ago, my ears have been pleased by this sentence quite a few times already...'Sicily is a dream!' and I, of course, reply by inviting people over so they can see its beauty with their own eyes. Brussels would be heaven on earth if it had a piece of Mediterranean coast to offer to its international dwellers, but so far it has only a brand new beach which I haven't yet heard much flatteries about. So far, it is being extremely warm here, and the attic we live in seems more of a green-house! But what do I complain about? We can't have everything!

La nuit porte conseil

A hundreds things have happened since we're back. The weather has been switching from winter to spring and then back to autumn, leaving us confused and disappointed. In the while, Poland lost its President, Britain got a hung parliament and Iceland, which under the surface is a boiling island, sent us an ash cloud that still keeps impeding air traffic. The Greek folk, who is not really the worst in the EU, erupted in violence and frustration seeming to shout 'who needs banks when we've got democracy?!' and still turning the craddle of democracy in the coffin of decency. The coast of Lousiana is being covered in black-petrol-colour and no one seems to move a finger, while earthquakes keep shaking from Chile to China.

So far, holding the American spirit in old Europe hasn't been really easy. We've been to beautiful Keukenhof, to Maastricht, to Westfalia, to birthdays and concerts and yet I've the feeling of not being really home. It seems that my backpack is still waiting to be unpacked and my mind still needs to see which is the next direction. Soon I'll go check on Brussels and tonight, being totally in a French mood, I'll be going to bed knowing that 'la nuit porte conseil'.

Keukenhof

And spring came also to Europe! Keukenhof is one of the most enchanting places I have ever been to. As usual, I don't excel at describing amazing things as they leave me literally speachless. But let's try anyway. The park is a carnaval of colours, where the sweet smells of flowers  mix and the head starts to spin. There are, of course, tulips of every colour and combination of colours. Short, long, closed, open. Beautiful. As there are all sorts of flowers, at Keukenhof there are also all sorts of people. Tourists and locals, children and grannies. All posing for one and a thousand photos. What completes the picture of this little paradise is the sensation that all is cool. Typical of the Dutch life-style is to enjoy the moment in total relaxation, preferably  having a glass of cool beer while sitting in the sun. Terrassen is the unofficial verb much used to refer to it. No sunny day is wasted (perfectly understandable in a country used to rain). A lovely day it was! And as the pope would say: BEDANKT  NEDERLAND VOOR DE BLOEMEN! :)

Spirit of America

There must be something true about this American spirit being all about hope and will of self-realisation, or maybe it is just the travelling and discovering connected to the history of this continent and of its restless explorers...

Whatever way, fact is that we are now at the end of our amazing journey across the southern part of the Americas and we feel...rejuvenated. The new world seems to have given us new energy to spend and invest in the old world!

We know how hard can be these days for starters like us to settle with a nice job-house combination in our Europe, nonetheless we did realise how much we love it and think of as our home. In few days we'll be joking over some British of French thingy again, and we'll be still fantasising of working in the Angloland and going on holiday to the Francoland. So small and diverse, so beautiful and fun. That's home. So...let's see for how long will this American spirit last! ;)

The authentic still exists

Bolivia - Titicaca Lake

 A typicality of the Americas in general seems to be that of having no middle ways. Want water? You can chose between a half a liter or a two and a half liter bottle. Same as in New York for a coca cola, a sip or a liter? I never get the logic...(capitalism ain't logical, right?!). Once happened to us that we were looking for a place to sleep and the choice was between a cheap and uncomfortable waterless kind of a hostel or a super duper expensive hotel with all possible imaginable useless comforts. I mean, why? I guess the way of thinking of the 'Americans' follows the same patter. Things are either black or white (even people, depending the place, are either black or white!). No middle way.

So, it was a relief to find a bit of a different environment around Bolivia. It is not just for Evo, who has declared the country a plurinational country recognising a place for every indigenous face and language, and who defends the coca as it has always been part of the Bolivians' life and culture. Bolivia presents itself as it is, with no gringo spot or anything made up just for them. Bolivia is just as it is, a country of pristine nature, where people work the field and weave the loom as their ancestors have probably done for centuries! No matter they can use a calendar or have internet these days, they'd still use the sky and its constellations to plant and harvest! 

The best of all this is that the tourist in Bolivia doesn't have to look for the authentic, because that is already there under his nose! Campesinas still wear the same clothes of ever forever, same colours, same drawings, same funny hat, and campesinos still carry everything on their shoulders and the donkey is their best friend. Bolivia is still pure and totally cool.

W H I T E

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

We had no idea what was awaiting us on the way to the Salar de Uyuni, the biggest and highest salt lake in the world. We knew the 3 days tour from San Pedro de Atacama to Uyuni was full of amazing lagunes, protected fauna and rare flora...and of course, once at the salar, the white desert.

Our guide/choffeur/chef/enterteinment accompanied us for three unforgettable days. We could learn that he wasn't much of a guide, but he definitely liked to spise up our jouney! Not happy with the fact that the landscape was already stunning and that we were already a nice group of people, he made our blood boiling by keeping one wheel flat and driving 100 km/h on a sandy stony road! We breathed dust and swallowed sand, went up to 4.800 mt to see flamingo's and lagunes of different colours, slept in places without water and basics toitet equipment, had some expectable headaches or stomachaches and sat on a jeep with our knees in our mouths for some hours!

-

We survived all this for the last day to wake up at 4 am, direction Salar de Uyuni. The Bolivian travel company told us that it was unfortunately not possible to get into the Salar because the wet season made it unaccessible. Well, few centemeters of water did not scare our guide/choffeur in the least. So, he drove on water for about 30 min's in the middle of the dark, with a couple of stars to tell him where to go.

The sunshine we saw from the top of the Isla de Pescadores was a priceless spectacle. Only for the six of us. Then, we were surrounded by a shining white all around, walking on candid crystals of salt, with only the blue of the sky to tell where the white stopped!

Star-gazing in the desert

Sunset at Valle de la luna, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

As usual there is never time to update this blog in real time. Not that I mind it that much for the more time passes the more we can think back on all we did and experienced. We are almost at the end of our journey and we feel time is really flying away. Anyway, I haven't got time for the blog mainly because we are now reaching places were internet is more of a touristic luxury rather than the fact we are used to in Europe.

 
To sum it up quickly, from Paraguay we went to the north-west of Argentina, which is a totally different Argentina! For the first time we saw small people and indigenous faces, those you don't find in Buenos Aires were they are all supposed 'Europeans', and at the same time it is those indigenous faces that were in my imaginary of Southamerica before coming here.

Cerro de los siete colores, Purmamarca, Argentina

Pachamama (mother earth) has gifted this region with breathtaking landscapes made of high gentle mountains with the most beautiful colours (for me unexpected), powerful rivers and lots of inspiration for our fantasy. Geological phenomena have eroded this landscape giving the most amazing shapes and colours to rocks and mountains. The road we took to reach towns and villages in the area desappears in the immensity of the landscape! Amazing!

Two days ago we made it to San Pedro de Atacama, the driest desert in the world! There are about 15 milliliters of rain per year, clearly a ridiculous amount. It is so dry and clear that staring at the sky at night is one shocking experience, expecially for those who come from a light-polluted place like the Netherlands and have no idea what is hidden up there in the sky. So, we found this very funny French astronomer that years and years ago left the cloudy French sky to came here for the sake of his profession and passion...Today he offers 'star tours', brings you to a dark isolated place in the middle of the desert to watch the stars and explains you 'how it works'. 

We reached his place around 8.30, way after the sunset and he welcomed us into the hall of his house were we all sat in a circle, with only a candle lighting our faces. After a very entertaining explanation about the basics of astronomy, we could finally go outside to gaze the stars...It was an amazing shocking vision! The astronomer stood up, opened the door and walked outised...the Milky Way was shining right above his head like dividing the dark blue sky in two parts...We saw thousands of stars, the most sparkling ones and a dozen of shooting stars! We imagined shapes of constellations, found our 'neighbours' (stars only 4,5 lightyears far away!) and saw a shooting star which we believed was actually a superfast sunset! It was simply incredible. Then we moved to the telescopes and as soon as we saw Saturn with its ring and satellites we were as surprised as little children! And the spectacle went on with planetary nebulas, the jewel box and Mars...Hopefully I will keep star-gazing back home!

Tierra roja

When we entered Paraguay we immediately understood it had nothing in common with its cousin Uruguay. The avarage ear tends to confuse the two countries as they sound alike...Uru or Para, there is always that 'guay' that misleads people to overlap the two. In indigenous language guay means river, and that's as much as the two countries have in common!

We entered Paraguay from Ciudad del Este, at the border with Brazil. Total chaos. The smuggle empire. Sellers everywhere, screaming the name and qualities of their merchandise, prepared to show them and bargain the price despite you being absolutely not interested in buying anything at all. I have no idea how street markets in Bangkok or India look like, but I fear Ciudad del Este is even more chaotic, noisy and smelly! Fish and french perfumes coexist together in the same half square metre! After the enchantment of Iguazu it was almost a shock to re-enter the uncivilized world of humans and we felt like escaping that unberable mess.

Once arrived in Encarnación, in the south, we could see what is the Paraguay behind the mess of Ciudad del Este. Overall a quite atmosphere, surprised staring faces not yet used to tourists, omnipresent sellers on bus, on the streets and anywhere else, and a lot of kids and pregnant women...For the rest the country has some interesting Jesuitic ruines in the south and the wild (for us unexplored) Chaco in the north. All in all, Paraguay can be a terrific experience, though once bought our reserve of mate, we preferred to move on. What I will always remember is the red colour of this country. The intense red of the ground, sprying the air with a reddish sand.

The Iguassu Waterfalls, what a spectacle!

In the indigenous language tupi-guaraní, Iguassu means big water. A simple name for such an amazing natural wonder! It left me so speechless that here I can`t think of any nice adjective from the many available to really describe the impact of the waterfalls...So, I guess that instead, I´ll show what was gifted to my sight!

Enjoy it!

A little piece of home

Dutch lunch at Clivia's, best host ever!

Who would have thought to find a little piece of home in Uruguay! Of all countries in South America, it is the one that spontaneously brought my mind to the flat green Netherlands, to the hills of Tuscany and to the lungomare (seaside) in Cefalù...As usual, I didn’t want to have any expectation of Uruguay beforehand, so to let myself be surprised by whatever came across...this is why to find here a little piece of home made me feel warm and jumpy inside!

Travelling across the Uruguayan countryside feels like taking that typical yellow train from Maastricht to somewhere in the north of the country: a peaceful scene of green flatness and grazing cows, gifted by some lonely windmills and gentle artificial creeks. Certainly, there are no windmills in Uruguay, but instead there are gauchos, isolated rural schools and police stations which are just normal countryside houses. As the landscape changes and gets drier, it starts to look like those gentle hills of Tuscany with some tree every here and there.

Enchanted by this landscape I paradoxically realised that I miss Holanda! But since the country is now covered in snow, I better wait for the spring time, when cows and sheep will be grazing outside more happily! Being in this homy mood, today we felt like cooking something typically Dutch for our host. Of course we ended up preparing stampot and meatballs, which turned out to be delicious and Clivia complimented us happily! Maurice is definitely improving his cooking skills ;)

Squeezed in between its big neighbours, Argentina and Brazil, the world is unaware of the richness of this country and of its contribution to some of those things we think of as ‘South Americans’. In many occasions the neighbours got the credits for things Uruguay created or contributed to, as for the Cumparsita, queen of all tango’s, co-written by an Uruguayan and an Argentinian...Who knows that Uruguay had anything to do with it?! Or what about the birth place of Carlos Gardel? Uruguay is always a suspected ‘partner in crime’. Same case about the paternity of the dulce de leche, made of milk and sugar and here used as much as nutella in Italy or whipped cream in the Netherlands, it cannot miss! Uruguayans will say it's their thing. Argentinians will say the same.

Small Uruguay doesn’t seem to put much effort in defending its merits...maybe it does, but its voice remains unheard and obscured by the counter opinion of its more famous neighbours, or perhaps it is because Uruguayan are such simple genuine people that wouldn’t waste their energy in fighting for these trifles! What a lovely people!

Amanecer

This Uruguayan experience has been so far rich in amazement. This picture has been taken over the Rio Dayman, while the sun was rising...Another hour lost in contemplation! We had an unbearable bumpy trip on a noisy night bus, which arrived at the Termas del Dayman at 6 am, still night and dark. Already humid. Two hours after, the day smiled at us in rich orange colour :)

Time to slow down and take a break. We have been travelling as crazy lately and now we feel it's time to put our bodies in shape before continueing. Luckily, Uruguay is apparently famous for its complex of termas in the north of the country. We'll spend some days at the Termas del Dayman, just 10 Km from the city of Salto. Apparently, the termas exist since they tried in vain to find oil in the Dayman river. I guess we are much better off with the termas :)

Lost in astonishment

Da simmer dabei! Dat is prima! VIVA COLONIA! Wir lieben das Leben, die Liebe und die Lust, Wir glauben an den lieben Gott und ham noch immer Durst

Ahah! Carnival Lovers from northern Europe get immediatly in the mood at the rhythm of this song! To me, it will be double happyness from now on! I'll think of the fun Northern Europen Carnival and also of a Colonia at the other side of the Ocean!

In 1680 some adventurous, little portuguese reached that far away land that today we call Uruguay. After sailing in oceanic waters, he spotted land, he must have litterally exultated 'Monte vid eo!!', I see a mountain...and so decided to settle between the waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the River Plate, Rio de la Plata...Today Colonia del Sacramento is the oldest town in Uruguay and its historic quarter a World Heritage site.

The junction between the currents of the ocean and the river creates such an amazing sky, and a spectacle of colours and shapes that the eye keeps contemplating tiredlessly..!

Accounts from Argentina

La Boca, Buenos Aires

When I look back and think of Argentina my mind goes to two different worlds: Patagonia and the rest of the country we have been to. Our days in Bariloche were too good to be true, but the same I cannot say for Mendoza and Buenos Aires. In Mendoza there is absolutely nothing to do but getting tipsy from its worldly known wines (which certainly it is per se a reason to visit Mendoza)! But thing is that in this increadibly hot city, some super soft and fast thievery hand decided to steal our camera...and all our photos and memories of the previous two weeks evaporated in one split second! Very sad and unfair. After leaving Mendoza we went to Cordoba, which to me looked ten times nicer. 

Our stay there was quite short, but we had time to reach Alta Gracia, where the familia Guevara and Ernestito lived for some years and that nowadays hosts the 'casa-museo of Che Guevara'. The house was well maintained and the museum very well made. I liked that by focusing on the childhood of Ernestito the museum shows a generally unknown side of what later became a hero. For the first time I also learned that Che Guevara had two wives and five children. I could see his school report, see how good he was in geography and history and how bad in ortography and calligraphy. I could see his child letters addressed to his aunt in Buenos Aires and read about the travels he made first through Argentina as a student. El Che has been a son and also a father, a thinker, a philosopher, a political leader, a revolutionary, and a man above all. This museum alone was worth the ride from the beautiful south towards the north of the country!

Then we went to Buenos Aires...which we rebaptised Malos Aires. I think I have been wondering for days what all the fuss about this city is about. Despite Argentinians are said to be the Europeans of South America I saw nothing that could ever resemble Europe or Europeans. Most of them are proud of having some European (mainly Italian) blood far in their DNA, but when it comes to behaviour or way of living...sorry bro but that ain't European at all! Moreover, Bs As is a city thought around an ever-present mean of transport, the car, and nothing is left to human dimension. Big avenues of ten lanes (ten one-way lanes!) are something of the USA rather than Europe. What I couldn't stand the most is the remarkable difference between barrios, neighbourhoods. Those from the aristocratic barrio of Palermo barely consider the popular San Telmo to be any safe! In Palermo the richness of its residents is visible in its palaces with their large, glass and shiny premises...surrounded by the nicest parks of the city. Wealth more than poverty has been disturbing to my eyes.

But all in all we left the capital with a nice feeling. The day before we left, we visited the barrio where Italian immigrants (especially from Genova) use to settle, la Boca. There we had a walk through the famous and colourful Caminito, and that persuaded us that also Bs As has colours like the whole South America does...That night we went to an afro-pub which seems to be quite popular in town and we enjoyed a night of drums and salsa. After all, Southamericans do know how to make a fiesta! :)

And so we left for the neighbouring, unknown Uruguay!

Bariloche

Nahuel Huapi Lake in Bariloche, Argentina

I was told by my Dutch man that the Princess of the Netherlands, Maxima, who is Argentinian, has a house in Bariloche to spend holidays. This makes perfect sense, because Bariloche has the fame to be the Switzerland of Argentina. I haven't been in Switzerland yet, but after Bariloche I think I might like that cold, punctual, chocolaty neighbour!

What a lovely place is Bariloche! We were already enchanted in Chiloé,  homeland of the mapuche-huilliche, a pure island not yet contaminated by tourism. Not many foreign backpackers, chilenos all year round. So rustic and simple it was that we actually thought of skipping Bariloche and stay longer on the island. But for some reason we moved further...As soon as we arrived on the shores of the Nahuel Huapi Lake we realised what we could have missed by not coming to Bariloche. We met 3 Italians in Chile, all coming from different parts of Italy, who commented that Bariloche was nothing special, that was just like Switzerland and thus didn't deserve much attention. According to them, two days spent in town were more than enough. What a mistake! Sometimes people are just too rush in their judgements. They don't take the time to reflect, they don't allow themselves to be surprised and worse, in their case, they keep looking at things with European eyes. There is so much nature around here, from hidden lakes to volcanic enchanted valleys...so much that two days in Bariloche are definitely NOT enough!

What is more, is that technically we can even say that we have been in Patagonia! Although in this part of Argentinian Patagonia there is no monotonous landscape and no flatness. It is a Patagonia made of rios hermosos, beautiful rivers, valleys, rocks sculptured by volcanic activity in the most different figures, gentle hills and pictoresque shores. Really, pleasure for our eyes!

Now it is already time to move ahead. We have barely time to notice we are getting tired. In few hours we will be on the way to Mendoza.

Un país para todos

Ancud, Chiloé island, Chile

Before leaving Europe I had the great idea to pack also a book: Mi País Inventado, by Isabel Allende. She nostalgically tells about Chile and her childhood around its cities and villages. 

 
Chile is literally a maravilla! And I'm sure it would satisfy all tastes. Santiago, great for those who enjoy urban life, running after concerts and the likes. Valparaíso for who loves doing tourism or for those who like to profit of  tourists. The south, with its fjords and islands, vulcans and cold until Punta Arenas for those love diving into nature. The north for who loves sand, gaysers and endless starry nights.

All this in such a narrow and peripheral country. When the first migrants reached Chile, it must have felt as surviving to some superheroic adventure to the very end of the world, crossing ocean and lands. Beyond the Andes and facing yet another -immense- ocean, there it was today's Chile. Sure a one way trip. Only the thought of returning must have been out of discussion. Today, traveling is way too easy for us citizens of the global village...eventhough  often the easiness to travel does not go hand in hand with the open-mindedness of those who go 'on the road'. But this is another story.

Chileans can be lovely people and as we don't look like the typical American gringo and can at least speak Spanish, they tend to like us too :) Their mestizos faces are beautiful, women very charmy, their size too cute!

Cara de alemán

View of the Mercado Fluvial in Valdivia, Chile

At first, I was surprised to realise that everybody seems to love Germans over here. With my limited knowledge I wondered where all this love came from and all I knew was that after WWII some of those alleged to be with the Nazi regime flew to this land to find a new refuge. What I didn't know is that the Germans came to Chile way before the war and left a positive trace.

The first Germans came to Chile between 1849 and 1851, abandoning a continent of failed liberal political experiments. In the same period, Chile just became an independent Republic in need of people to fill its vast and mostly empty lands. The favourable laws of the newly born Republic attracted many immigrants and the Germans were basically the first to profit of this situation. The first arrival of immigrants consisted mostly of merchants, countrymen and craftsmen who settled in Valdivia and its surroundings, as well as in the LLanquihue Lake area. These settlers came from Hesse, Silesia, Wurtemberg, Bohemia, Westfalia, Brandemburg and Saxony. They brought their traditions and knowledge, contributing to the cultural and economic development of the country. They managed to integrate in the new nation without losing their language, customs and beliefs. Differently than the Spanish, they didn't come to impose themselves and their religion in the new world.

Valdivia (in the picture) is the German heart of Chile and all the links between Chile and Germany became clearer in this place. Many streets in Valdivia are named after a German, eg. Carlos Anwandter, Rudolf Philippi, Amthauer, Oettinger...and the main road passing between Rio Valdivia and Rio Cau Cau is funnily named Avenida Alemania, Germany Avenue. Even the first brewery of the country was established by a German and a lot of local beers still carry a German name, like Kustmann.

Today there is no difficulty in recognising a German face (cara de alemán) around. Generally a tall person, white skin and blue eyes...in contrast with the chilenos who are short, dark and have the darkest jet-black eyes! Don't we all love Germans after all?? ;)

Pablo's corners

Neruda's house in Valparaíso

Since the past days we are enjoying Chile, a land of amazing natural constrasts. Tomorrow night we will move south towards Valdivia and the island of Chiloé, personally longing for a non urban place, away from the city. Time to dive into nature.  

So far, I can say I loved Santiago, with its relaxed atmoshpere that made us slow down our city-paced-steps. I would have stayed in its bohemian neighbourhood, Bellavista, night after night, enjoying its colours, street-art and local beer. Then we moved to the colourful Valparaíso, which centre, with its colourful houses, cerros and ascensores, is even a World Heritage site. 

But the most inspiring thing we have done so far was to visit three pearls hidden in Santiago, Valparaíso and Isla Negra: the houses were Pablo Neruda lived in Chile during his life. All of them are simply inspiring: la Chascona in Santiago, la Sebastiana in Valparaíso and the one on Isla Negra, where Pablo was buried with his Matilde. Neruda was a wealthy man but didn't surround himself with boring trivialities or antiquities. His houses are filled with objects of a highly symbolic meaning. He gave a sense, a colour and a metaphor to every little thing he put around. Poetry of things, not just of words. Neurda is a man that belonged to any piece of our earth, with his humanity, his travelling and his reaching the soul of things. These houses themselves are an ode to the will of enjoying life...Totally beautiful!

All that shines is not gold

Smiling at life, Brazilian spirit after all

Everyone warned us before going to Rio. Everyone reminded us how dangerous the city is and recommended to be careful and watch our staff all the time. Nothing happened because we stayed in the Rio that shines...

Rio definitely has what Sao Paulo lacks: beauty and charm, it is indeed the cidade maravilhosa, beautiful city! It has beautiful beaches and the sea is a relief from the continuous heat. Coming from smoky Sao Paulo, as soon as we arrived in Rio Copacabana beach and its Pâo de Açucar looked like a paradise! The sea and the lagune look lovely, no one seems to run to work (or work at all) and you need no umbrella because there won't be any rain in the afternoon as it does in Sao Paulo. But as the say goes, all that shines is not gold.

If walking around the neighbourhoods of Ipanema and Copacabana, it is easy to forget about its favelas, the linea vermelha (called by some 'Gaza Strip') and all that dirty business people know from the movies. Everything seems fine and people seem to have no worries but the way they look! The most unbearable thing is indeed the way cariocas behave. They totally adhore to show off. They have the cult of their bodies and don't even care whether their tanned legs have cellulite or not. I found it contraddictory. It seems that the carioca feels it natural to walk around naked all the time...According to a local joke it is very simple to distinguish a carioca from a paulistano: the latter would walk in his shirt while the former would be simply in his bare skin. Though, when driving, they are all indistinctly crazy dangerous!

At night it is again the same show. Senhoras in their nicest dress and jewelleries, the youth seeming to say 'I belong to the United Kingdom of Ipanema'. I am not saying I didn't enjoy it! Ipanema is totally lovely! The wild ocean and the softest white sand I have ever walked on are difficult to forget. I just had the feeling that that was a bit of a fake world. A ball of air.

Pizza and Sushi

Migration flows to Brazil at Museo da Lingua Portuguesa

I have come to the conclusion that it is food to reveal what Brazil really is. Yesterday a Japanese-Portuguese woman prepared an italian dish for us, using a recipe Italians don't use. It was still a delicious plate! Few days ago, Roberta brought us to a pizzeria, insisting that the best pizza in the world is made in Sao Paulo. Despite skeptical, as soon as the first bite of pizza paulistana met my mouth I had to frankly admit that it was indeed delicious! The sushi in Sao Paulo can be a delicatess and the 'food of the slaves', the feijoada, is today a typical Brazilian dish...What does it all tell? 

Of course food and recipes travel along with the people and folks that use them...when Italians started to move to Brazil from the 1870s didn´t bring with them only hope for a new life in the new world, but they also brought along their culinary habits, gnocchi and pizza! According to the numbers, Italians are the biggest immigrant group in Brazil with some 1,5 million Italians of which 70% seems to be concentrated in Sao Paulo...No wonder a pizza can be so good here! Then there are also Portuguese, Spanish, Germans, Russians, a big colony of Japanese people, and even Chinese, Korean, Lebanese, Jews and...Africans (theirs is another story).

This diversity in faces, languages and food is the richness of this big country. At the Museu da Lingua Portuguesa you learn that since the Portuguese came to Brazil in the 1500, the portuguese language evolved and enriched itself by meeting other cultures. A lot of names and names of places derive from tupinambá, the indigenous language the portuguese met first. Words like moleque, bunda, tanga come from African banto. Açougue, açucar, àlcool come from Arabic. The portuguese language is extremely rich, and so is this culture and this place! Personally, I adore its diversity!

Sampa

A modest piece of São Paulo city

São Paulo is the Brasil the world is unaware of. Lovely called Sampa by its inhabitants, it doesn't have the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, nor has it the blue blue sky of Salvador de Bahia in the north, nor that sort of 'Europeaness' of certain cities in the south. São Paulo is a huge, enormous and almost monstruous metropolis...and being the economic-financial heart of Brazil, it attracts a special kind of turist: the business man. Believe or not, it is almost hard to find postcards in São Paulo!

Paulistanos are very proud of their city. According to a local saying, Brasilia is the head of the country, São Paulo is the heart, whereas Rio de Janeiro is the penis. Funny, uh?! Sure Rio is represented as such for the body's worship and the usual show off of suntanned tatooed body along the beaches of the former capital. Paulistanos like to remark how easy it is to recognize a Paulistano in Rio de Janeiro: unlike cariocas, s/he would wear at least a t-shirt. Now, I'm not buying it at all, but I still find such jokes and implicit rivalry way too funny! ...'We work while they just sunbathe!' (guess who is who)...ahahah!!

Afternoon storm on the Avenida Paulista

What I like of São Paulo is that its summer days have four season in one day: like spring in the morning, summer around noon, sort of winter during the punctual afternoon rainstorm, and autumn right after the storm. Lovely. They all know it and that's why Paulistan@s smartly walk around in summer clothes plus umbrella :) 

What I can't possibly like of São Paulo is the driving style of its people. They are completely crazy. And I come from Palermo! They all jump in their cars and immediately lock the doors (the reason being to prevent that someone opens the car and robs you or pulls you out and takes the vehicle. No, it is not some science fiction story). Then they speed up from 1 to 5 in ten seconds, run like crazy and, like in Napoli, they wil decide whether they feel like stopping at the traffic light or not (mainly for the same reason already explained). Let's just take it as local custom.

Overall, we are still discovering the city. Our friends are clearly spoiling us with culinary experiences, churrascos, feijoadas, sushi and so on. Maurice and I keep saying that we are made for good old man-sized Europe, yet we are fascinated and curious to discover what all other capitals and metropolis in South America look like!

No pain, no gain

We arrived on Ilha Grande in a totally improvised way. The bus to Angra dos Reis was late and left us with no ferry to get to the island. It was 8 pm and we didn't like the idea to remain in that fishermen-town knowing that a tropical paradise was so close to our reach. The Brazilian way has it that in difficult circumstances everybody comes together in a spirit of mutual help. And so, everybody started to talk, to check options and possibilities...We managed to find a fisherman with a relatively small boat who was going to Araçatiba and we got on while the tropical rainfall started to become heavier. What an experience! Our backpacks were luckily the driest thing on the whole boat, but the four of us had to stay in the rain for almost one hour and a half. We got TOTALLY soaked and none of us got sick! :P Personally, I was already surprised that I didn't feel any sea-sickness...there was probably no time to feel sick as the main thought was that of surviving the rainy trip without passport and money getting wet and unusable.

On our way we could only spot some distant lighthouses and some shapes of near small islands. When we got closer to the island, a big, high volcano-shaped thingy welcomed us to Ilha Grande. We arrived in total dark, crossed a river and walked up until our chalezâo with the only help of our flashlights. Although back then it felt sort of impossible, now I can say it was totally cool!

It rained for almost three days without stopping for a single minute. We enjoyed this strange tropical summer chit-chatting and drinking local beer, playing some weird Brazilian card game, which is all about bluffing, and imaging what the island could look like beyond the fog that was all around us. We passed New Years Eve drinking champagne, listening to the rain and watching the fireworks in Rio de Janeiro on tv until the power went off...since then, we never had electricity again!

On the morning of January 1st, hundreds cicada's (cicale in italian, cigarras in portuguese) woke us up with a sort of intergalactic sound. Amazing. According to the island inhabitants, that particular sound means that after the storm the sun is finally coming...We couldn't believe it! Because of all that rain that seemed to never end we almost gave up to the idea we could ever go to the beach and lay in the sun.

Vox populi was right. The sun came and it was stronger than ever. Ilha Grande is amazing. Its tropical vegetation is dense and compact, big high palm trees are everywhere with their cute green coconuts, there are plants of every kind and an immense all surrounding green everywhere. The sea was calm and the water still warm and very enjoyble. The sand red, yellow and even white. Small villages, colourful houses, sleepy boats. What a view. Totally beautiful. It took me few minutes to realize that I was finally on that tropical island I longed for during winter in Europe. The sun finally was on my skin! I loved it!

Maravilhosas praias vermelhas, Ilha Grande, Brasil