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Windows on the world
Pacific Journal Sao
Paulo
Harvey
’s Pacific Journal ~ 2007
1.
Heathrow to
Sao Paulo
,
Brazil
. Depart
21.10; arrive 06.45
British
Airways BA 247. Flying time 11.5
hours. Distance 9474 km
Sunday
18 February
I spend the morning trying to check-in online, without success.
Ben & Lou arrive to drive us to the airport and we leave Greenmead at
4.00 pm. The traffic is crawling
towards Hindhead so Lou directs Ben through Haslemere and we pick up the A3
again at
Milford
. Once past
Guildford
we are crawling again, and I begin to get concerned.
If this is a tailback from the M25 we could be in trouble, but it turns
out to be an accident on the other carriageway and we get to Heathrow’s
Terminal 4 without mishap. We go to
a self-service point to check in but before I can enter any details a member of
staff is helping us. She takes us
past the long line of people waiting to hand over their suitcases and processes
ours. My case is 16kg but Sue’s
weighs in at just over 20kg, and although the BA limit is 23kg the limit on some
flights will be 20kg. We need to
watch it. Still bemused by our good
fortune we head for the security desks to get a clear plastic bag for Sue’s
homeopathic remedies. We have only
gone 20 yards, but I suddenly realise that Sue isn’t with me.
I wander up and down, but there’s no sign of her.
I get my phone out to call her, but she calls me first.
We still can’t see each other. Has
she slipped into a parallel universe? She
spots me, and we join the queue. No
fast-track this time, it takes quite a while, but after all the anxiety of the
last few weeks Sue’s homeopathic liquid remedies in plastic bottles are not
remarked upon. We have a snack at
Garfunkles, read the Sunday Times, and wander up and down until it’s time to
board. The flight is almost full,
and as usual there is not much legroom. I
sit next to a shape-shifter. She
shrinks back into her seat, and out of my eye corner it’s as though no-one is
there. We set off just before 10.00
pm, almost an hour late. The
stewardess is really friendly, and although we haven’t booked it she brings a
vegetarian meal when Sue doesn’t fancy the meat options.
It’s a bumpy flight but we both get quite a bit of sleep.
On one occasion our near-invisible shape-shifting neighbour climbs over
us to go the loo. Sue suffers from
streaming sinuses. Let’s hope
it’s not a cold.
Hotel Gran Estanplaza, Rua
Arizona
,
Sao Paulo
,
Brazil
Location: 23.34S 46.38W
(GMT -2hours) 4 Real = £1
Monday 19 February
I try to follow the progress on the flight information screen but I sleep
through the crossing of the equator. The
screen shows the temperature at
Sao Paulo
as 32F, not what we expected. Also
shows the time difference as 3 hours, not 2, but it turns out to be wrong on
both counts. Immigration, passport
control and baggage reclaim present no problems and I am in
South America
for the first time. I get some cash
from an ATM and organise a taxi, fee agreed in advance at 107.50R.
We hit the streets of
Sao Paulo
and already it’s 22°C. After
half an hour’s driving I see Estanplaza on top of a hotel but we drive past
it. A few minutes later the driver
pulls up at another Estanplaza hotel, but it looks too small.
I show the driver the address again before he can unload our suitcases.
He talks to the concierge and we get back in the taxi.
This time he finds the right hotel, not far away.
Check-in is 3.00 pm, but it’s not yet 9.00 am.
Sue has already decided that if we can’t have a room she will sleep in
the foyer, and I have already decided that I will pay extra for early access,
but it’s not a problem. Just as
well. This is a very elegant hotel,
and they might have frowned on dossers in the lobby.
They offer us drinks and breakfast, which we decline, and within minutes
we’re in bed in a rather grand room. Surprisingly,
I wake up after half an hour, but Sue sleeps on.
I have a shower but it’s lunch time before Sue comes round.
We discover that this is a long weekend, and
Sao Paulo
is just about closed down with everyone away on holiday.
In the Gran Estanplaza the only place open is the bar, where the girls
don’t speak much English. As we
don’t speak any Portuguese we have to point to things on the menu.
After lunch I ask Eduardo on Reception how to get downtown.
He says it’s 20 km and I will need a taxi, about 40R. He
suggests I return about 5.00 pm. Is
there a subtext here? Sue has a cold
and is feeling miserable. She
doesn’t want to go downtown, and her sinuses are still streaming so she
can’t even swim. She decides to
stay in the room whilst I explore. Eduardo
gives me a map, takes me out to the taxi and tells the driver I want to go to
the Cathedral. The fare turns out to
be 56R, and we go back the way we came from the airport. I
realise our hotel is not an ideal location for sightseeing.
I
look around he cathedral, where there seems to be less obvious piety than in a
European Catholic cathedral. No old
women in black, no scarves, shawls, hats. Quite
a few people sit, relaxing rather than praying, but there is a small cluster of
kneeling worshippers at a side altar with a particularly bloody depiction of the
crucifixion. No-one is taking
photos, so I don’t either. I go
outside, where the streets are quite crowded but most of the shops are closed.
I try to find some tourist attractions from the map, and make my way to
Praça da Repứblica, where cattle were corralled in the old days,
but it’s closed for renovations. I
look for Memory Hill, but don’t find it. It’s
31°C, hot and sticky, and I don’t feel I’m achieving much.
I find several book shops that are open, but there are no books in
English. I couldn’t find tourist
books or Brazilian novels in
England
, so perhaps the cultural ties between the two countries are not very strong.
I stop for a drink, but without my phrase book (back at the hotel) all I
can do is point to orange juice. I
head back to the cathedral where I should be able to get a taxi.
The streets are quieter now. I
do a double-take at a girl walking by in a bikini top and a really short, really
tight skirt. I see another,
similarly dressed, leaning against a shop wall and applying lipstick, and then
three more in quick succession. It’s
only 3.30 but even I recognise prostitutes.
Is this Eduardo’s sub-text? Is
it time for me to be back at the hotel before I get into trouble?
I head for the taxi rank and show the first driver the address of my
hotel. He doesn’t know where it is
and asks another driver, then oozing confidence gets into the cab.
I’m not convinced and show him Rua
Arizona
on my map. He is fascinated with
it, I don’t think he has seen a map before.
He puts it on the seat next to him and refers to it at every red light.
He introduces himself as Mark, but we don’t achieve much more by way of
communication. When we have been
driving for a while he stops to ask for help at a filling station.
A few minutes later he questions another driver at a red light.
Triumphantly, he delivers me to the Hilton Hotel.
Actually, I think I recognise it. I
think my hotel is just behind the Hilton, but I can’t be sure.
Mark asks the Hilton concierge, and drives me round the block.
Still unsure, he stops to ask someone else, and a hundred yards further
on he pulls up outside the Gran Estanplaza.
The fare is 40Rs, cheaper than the direct route to the cathedral.
I get back just before the rain starts.
Is that why Eduardo wanted me back before 5.00pm?
Perhaps he doesn’t even know about the prostitutes.
Sue is still feeling miserable. We
play backgammon but she’s not
really up to it. I doze, and when I
wake up Sue is dressed and ready for dinner.
I shower again and we go down to the bar, still the only place where we
can eat. At lunch we had been the
only diners, but now there are a few other people around.
Sue orders what she wants, but I order picanha,
and I have no idea what it is. I
think it might be a fish fillet, but it turns out to be rump steak cooked in the
old gaucho way: large pieces of seasoned meat on a spit, stuck in the ground
near the bonfire. I don’t suppose
mine got the bonfire treatment, but it is the most delicious steak I have ever
had. Unfortunately, it comes with
three starchy foods, and the balance isn’t quite right, and I am glad that I
asked for a salad. I’m feeling
more confident now, and try saying the Portuguese words as well as pointing to
them on the menu. They had been
unable to serve tea at lunch time, but now when Sue asks for it the waiter
brings a cup of hot water and a big wooden box, like a cigar box, with a
selection of herbal teas. We go to
bed, which is king-size, but only has three pillows.
I look up the Portuguese word for pillow and phone housekeeping.
I ask for a pillow, which draws a blank, and so hoping that the word
doesn’t have more than one meaning I boldly say almofada.
It arrives a few minutes later. Have
we really only been in
Brazil
for one day?
Tuesday 20 February
We
have both slept well and Sue’s cold seems to have receded.
We have a delicious buffet breakfast (with tea, which Sue doesn’t
enjoy). It has rained overnight but
starts to brighten as we get ready to go out.
We hear a buzzard or a kite calling but we can’t see it.
We have a second tourist map, as well as the one for the area by the
cathedral and so we take a taxi (without any help from Eduardo) and ask to go to
the Avenida Paulista. We have read
that this is the most important avenue in
Sao Paulo
, but it turns out to be a long straight wide road lined with high-rise
apartments and office blocks. There
are plenty of shops and restaurants, but the long weekend continues and most of
them are closed, as is the museum. The
occasional older building has survived the drive for demolition and progress,
but somehow we don’t identify with the ambience. We leave the avenue and walk
through Parque Trianon, a small cool shady piece of Brazilian rain forest
(planted out in 1892) but it’s soon back to the concrete jungle and 30°C.
We walk as far as Casa das Rosas, a house designed by an architect as a
wedding present for his daughter. We
expect old buildings to be centuries old, but this one was built in 1935.
There are still a few roses in the garden, but it doesn’t seem out of
the ordinary. I take two photos of
Sue with my mobile so that we can send a postcard to Les.
The local network refuses to send it.
We have lunch in a Japanese fast food restaurant in an otherwise-deserted
shopping mall. We have to resort to
pointing at the menu again. We sit
for a few minutes in the beautiful chapel of Santa Caterina, very peaceful and
quiet, and then we start walking back the way we came.
We are ready to get a taxi back to the hotel, but I need more cash for
the taxi to the airport tomorrow, so first we need an ATM.
Two Brazilian banks won’t accept my card.
HSBC accepts my card but tells me that the ‘institution’ (?) is
temporarily out of operation. Citibank
is more direct. It cheerfully tells
me that I have insufficient funds and it has been a pleasure doing business with
me. Before we left home I set up
funds for the entire holiday, so I have no idea what’s going on; or how we
will get to the airport. I have
enough cash for the taxi back to the hotel, so although it’s only 2.30pm we go
home with our tails between our legs. The
taxi ride is 30Rs (it had cost 40Rs in the morning).
We have been back in the room a few minutes when I get a call.
The taxi driver has found my wallet on the back seat.
Is that lucky or what? Thankfully,
I give him a 20Rs tip. Sue goes to
sleep and I go back to the desk to explain my predicament about getting to the
airport. No problem, the hotel will
pay the taxi driver and charge my room. But
I need to know what’s going on with my bank so I text Malcolm asking for the
bank manager’s mobile phone number.
We go down to dinner a bit earlier tonight.
Sue has franjo (chicken)
stroganoff, which is delicious. I
choose a local delicacy which is some kind of grouper. I
don’t really enjoy it. We go to
bed early, and I wake up about mid-night with garlic repeating on me.
I’m awake for over an hour, feeling more and more distressed, and
eventually I part company with my grouper in a very violent manner.
I always thought that it was an ugly fish.
By now Sue is disturbed and she doses me with homeopathy.
Not a good night.
Next
leg:
2.
Sao Paulo
to Santiago
,
Chile
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to Itinerary