All About Rio... Five Months Later

Five months ago, I couldn't bring myself to write about my last ten days of the trip which I'd spent entirely in Rio. I was exhausted, a bit more than just sad at having capped weeks of travel in South America and couldn't find the words or the will to write about how spectacular my time there had been.

I found myself in a hostel in the not-so-touristy neighborhood of Botafogo which was still very close - and accessible by foot - to the more popular parts of Rio, namely Ipanema and Copacabana. The hostel staff was incredible - friendly, lively and genuinely fun. They personified everything I'd expected Cariocas (as the residents of Rio are called) to be.

As luck would have it, the most interesting guests were from all over (Japan, Brazil, UK, Germany, etc.) started to trickle in and a party ensued every evening - there wasn't any compelling need to go beyond the intimate hostel premises to have fun. It was all about Angela's (the hostel's irrepressible chatelaine) caipirinhas and caipiroskas. The rest just followed.

What about the beaches? Corcovado? It was all more than I'd expected. Even now, I can't find the proper words to describe how uniquely beautiful Rio is - a thriving cosmopolitan metropolis cradled among tropical jungle mountains and beaches.

I cancelled a trip to Salvador in the northern part of the country because I just couldn't pry myself loose from the pleasure of being in Rio. That gives me the perfect excuse to make a return visit. I'd love to see the rest of the country.

With the World Cup coming to town in 2014 and the Olympics in 2016, Rio is ready for her big debut.

Brazilian music is still in heavy rotation on my sound system. Ironically, I never got to listen to any live performances while in Brazil but have since been to a couple of exceptional events in Buenos Aires & Los Angeles. Again, another reason to return. If it's not one thing it's another that lures you back. In my case, there's a lot.

A popular word that gets thrown around to describe the feelings that Rio conjures up is "saudade",  loosely defined as "the love that remains" after something or someone has gone.

Exactly.

Sao Paulo: Thievery, Helicopters and a Lot of Art

Where to begin?

Immediately I felt on edge on arrival. I'd heard many things about Brazil, both good and not-so-good: the culture, people, music and natural beauty were fabulous with the crime and class and racial divide being the unattractive aspects of life here. I've experienced much of it in just my first 48 hours in Brazil.

I'd used my debit card to take money out of my account at HSBC and Citibank ATMs, being mindful to use machines at well-established banks. Soon enough, I received a text message from my bank asking if I'd withdrawn a substantial amount from my account. I quickly tried to find a wireless signal - checking every ten minutes to see if I could go online and place a Skype call to my bank. This was an ordeal - every signal I'd found was secured, even at cafes and restaurants where I'd offered to sit and order something - a coffee.... or a steak. I didn't care: I just wanted a wifi signal I could hook up to.

Finally, I found one at a pizza place in a mall on Avenida Paulista, the city's business/banking artery. I couldn't properly express the seriousness of my predicament in Portuguese but they let me hang out and place a 45 minute call to my bank, while I shuffled around their still-closed restaurant and whined and wailed not-so-quietly over the phone. The staff clearly understood something was amiss. An investigation is currently ongoing and hopefully everything will be rectified soon.

Adding insult to injury, someone had unsuccessfully tried to pick my pocket at a restaurant in the city center (a man with nothing at his table), by attempting to wipe something off my back that he'd obviously put on while pretending to help me. I quickly moved away and the attempt was foiled.

This obviously put a damper on my first day in the country, so I headed back to my room and naturally downed a bottle of wine.

The next day, I felt reborn, with a new-found determination not to let this drag me down.

Positivity!

Went to the Pinacoteca (National Gallery) and was stunned by a world-class Giacometti show, impeccably presented and curated. Amazing architecture incorporating the museum's original brick structure. Then moved on to the Museu Arte de Sao Paulo, an impressive cantilevered concrete Brutalist building housing Van Goghs, Manets, a unique Gaugin, and a unique Bellini of a not-so-childlike Jesus almost choking an uncomfortable-looking Madonna, etc. However, it was a bit of a letdown there being only one big gallery displaying these masterpieces. It now seems now to me that presentation and context are very important in appreciating whatever it is that I'm supposed to do so at hand.  But it was interesting to see such masterpieces in South America and not in the expected world capitals/cities. Obviously, there are a lot of very wealthy individuals bequeathing a lot of important art to the State. I can only imagine what else is in local private collections, in very highly-secured cushy Brazilian homes.

Also happened to find myself in the very wealthy Pinheiros neighborhood where I ducked into a mall after hours of getting lost on foot. The mall was everything I'd heard Sao Paulo to be and worlds away from what I'd seen so far: full of the fair-haired perfumed beautiful, dressed head-to-toe in (insert imagined extravagant brand/s), many with children minded by darker-skinned nannies dressed in white. This was Shopping Igautemi, the pot-of-gold at the end of the Brazilian economic and social rainbow.

There I saw a happy little girl of about ten trying on a pair of prescription frames at Bottega Veneta while her Chanel-clad supermodel mom lovingly told her they looked good on her. I assumed the thing cost $500 and the mom just as happily paid for them with her Super Duper Triple Platinum Centurion American Express card.

All this while helicopters buzzed above at rush hour, ferrying their CEO husbands-fathers home from work. It was a little after five-o'clock.

Brazil has indeed arrived.

I had never felt so out of place in my life. I headed for the food court and indulged in a relatively humble dinner of steak and salad. Cost: $12.

Buenos Aires: Bright Lights, Big City, Big Appetite

A steak (even two) a day keeps the obsession with beef at bay.

(Warning to vegetarians: you can stop reading now.)

That was what this two-day Buenos Aires stopover was going to be about: a survey of various parrillas, or steakhouses. I'd been doing research for months on which places to hit in my 48 hours in this carnivore's Paradise. A lot of people come to Buenos Aires to shop, to party, to sightsee. I came to eat beef.

The moment I emerged into the fine Buenos Aires weather I instantly regretted not having planned on staying longer, a week even. It was 76F, a stark contrast to the freezing Patagonian weather. Going forward it was now all about t-shirts and urban clothing (of which I've brought almost nothing).

I sprung the few extra bucks for a decent hotel room at the Hotel Bristol, right smack in front of the city's main landmark, the massive Obelisco and on the world's widest avenue, the Avenida 9 de Julio. It had an air of faded glory (brass and glass revolving door, a chandelier, etc.) and had a huge neon Mercedes Benz advertisement on top (it would be hard for me to lose my way home, an actual selling point).

I was caught off guard by having a porter and a doorman open my taxi door and whisk my bag into the lobby. Faded glory maybe, but the service was still top-notch.

I was thrilled to have my own private bath, fitted with a bidet, even. It was a bit overwhelming, considering the way I've been rolling the last month: now a TV, fridge, crisp linens, abundant fluffy towels, remote-controlled a/c - I don't know how I could go back to anything "less"! (Just kidding.)

Explored the gritty downtown area and the energy and atmosphere immediately captivated me. Dozens of things called for my attention at the same time. I didn't know where to look. Patagonia had been all about meditatively looking at wide open landscapes. This was the opposite, mental over-stimulation was the game here. A pair of abandoned man-sized ladies' shoes caught my attention (Who had owned them? Why had they been abandoned?) and so did a ratty but clever billboard (What was it for? Why was the woman on it a person of interest?), the impossibly attractive locals rushing around (blue-eyed/fair-haired, dark-eyed/dark-haired, blue-eyed/dark-haired... all possible combinations, but somehow unmistakably Argentine; must be the prominent noses).

Made my way to the bohemian Palermo district to celebrate my birthday at the "famous" (meaning, listed in ALL the guidebooks, for better or for worse) La Cabrera. I'd stayed in the neighborhood three years ago with a group of friends and nothing had changed: the same designer stores selling mostly the same merchandise but now at even more inflated prices. Most of the fashionable looking locals were at the cafes - the only ones shopping were visitors (saw one American drop $500 on a pair of shoes).

Arrived at La Cabrera to find that the 40% "happy hour" discount (from 7-8:30pm) wasn't available on Mondays, so, dejected, off I went to Las Cabras nearby. I'd read it was popular among locals because of the low prices and the convivial atmosphere (but when is it not so in Buenos Aires?). Casually stylish and young attractive waitstaff in black t-shirts buzzed around. The food did not disappoint: ordered a perfectly charred and pink-in-the-center bife de chorizo (sirloin strip steak, 350g) with a decadent ring of fat, puréed squash (a new personal healthier-than-potatoes favorite), rice, grilled onion and red pepper and a favorite, provoleta (grilled thick slice of provolone, on which you squeeze lemon; a la quesong puti): $13. With a bottle of wine and tip, I was out the door for $25.

Lunch the following day was downtown, close to the long pedestrian shopping street, Calle Florida, at "El Establo". I immediately liked it: cocky but cool career waiters in black bow ties and vests casually chatting with businessmen in pinstriped suits, obviously regulars. The atmosphere was traditional, unfussy and comfortable. Had a half-portion of ojo de bife (rib eye, not too much fat but amazing flavor & liked the thickness), puréed squash and a half-bottle of Malbec. Again, perfectly charred outside and pink inside. I paid in cash (10% off) and with dollars (favorable exchange rate, 10% higher than what's offered at banks; signs advertising this at restaurants and stores are everywhere... everyone wants foreign currency as the value of the Argentine peso is being kept artificially high by the powers-that-be and restrictive foreign exchange laws are also in effect. And something's up with the financial situation, there were always long lines outside banks' doors.). A nice touch at the end of the meal: an overflowing shot of limoncello. I emerged from the restaurant with a general sense of well-being and only $25 poorer. A fine, fine value.

It was only 2:30pm and I already started making my way towards La Cabrera for the 7:00 happy hour. Waddled through Palermo's shops, meandering through twenty or so big blocks to build up an appetite. When I arrived at 6:40 I was appropriately hungry but there was already a queue of 25 or so, mostly trendy 20-something American and English travelers. Would I be able to get in?

I did. I'd once eaten, three years ago, at a sister restaurant half a block away and this one had the same TGIF kind of decor (beef-related tchotchkes), but in a good non-chainy way. Everyone was ready for action, knowing we'd have only a little more than an hour finish the meal.

I had a large (600g; almost 1.5 lbs.) ojo de bife (rib eye), perfectly charred and the sight of it shocked me. Would I be able to do the deed?????? Indeed I did. In 45 minutes I scarfed the whole thing down, with a bottle of their cheapest and finest Malbec. The meal, just as I had remembered, came with condiments (apple sauce, puréed squash, pickled roasted garlic cloves and pearl onions, potato salad, grilled peppers, etc.) and the usual lollipop tree was served at the end of the meal. Verdict: great beef and accompaniments, but very, very touristy and I didn't get the sense that more than a few appreciated what an experience this was (group of aforementioned young travelers kept on smelling their food, two asking for their meat well-done and kept on sending their steak back to the kitchen for further debasement; the waiters seemed bewildered). I wouldn't go back unless I was with friends so I wouldn't have to pay attention to the tourists (yes, I'm one myself but... you know what I mean:I like to dine with people who can appropriately appreciate the unique experience at hand) and I certainly wouldn't pay the extortionate prices they now charge. But on the whole, I was satisfied by the meal and having just paid $36 with the discount. That said, there are other options out there.

I leave this city satisfied, having accomplished my insane mission: almost four pounds of prime Argentine beef in three meals. That, and copious amounts of Malbec.

Other notables: getting lost heading home from dinner and finding the subway closed for the night and taking four buses headed in various opposing directions trying to get home and strangers being amazingly helpful in trying to help, with me understanding absolutely almost nothing. On the way, walked past an incredible (on shopping carts and trolleys) caravan of homeless people on Corrientes, one of the city's busiest avenues. An adventure indeed.

Now, off to Brazil where I will atone for the gluttony and will have a few days in Sao Paulo to lose enough weight so I can squeeze into my swim shorts.

Patagonian Adventures: A Night Out, Crossing into Argentina, Having Steak in Hostels, Icebergs

Patagonia, where the world supposedly ends, the land of ancient giants of legend and of actual powerful and incomparable beauty. It's also probably where hell actually freezes over.

Spent a couple of nights in Puerto Natales, Chile after four days of sailing on a cargo ship. It was sleepy, wet, dark - like Seattle in the early 1900s perhaps?

Twelve of us from the ship trooped over to the center of town to find accommodations. Ended up knocking at the door of a kindly elderly couple and were surprised to find they had room for all of us in their simple but very comfortable home. I'd never been so grateful to have my own room and bath (see previous post regarding having three tough bikers as roommates, two of whom never said a word to me). Reminder to self: count blessings more often.

Happy to be back on dry land, we set out to paint this quiet and wet town red. After a dinner of curiously overly cheesy (in the literal sense) pizza, we stumbled onto the only club in town. It seemed decent, but empty at 11pm and soon all twelve of us started dancing in a circle (which is what usually happens when not enough alcohol has been consumed - yet). Fast forward five hours later and the club was actually rocking with cool tunes and locals.

However, I decided to leave my partners-in-crime at 5am only to find myself lost, not knowing the name of my guesthouse nor the name of the club. I was screwed. Then, out of nowhere four jovial partying Chilenos appeared. In the worst possible Spanish I explained my predicament and after I showed them photos taken at the club I was soon reunited with my companions. At 6am, at the club. I hadn't done anything like that in a long time and doubt it'll happen again soon but I enjoyed it tremendously.

The following day, visited the jewel in Chile's crown, Torres del Paine National Park. It didn't fail to impress, in terms of scale and variety of wonders - alpine lakes, a glacier, abundant wildlife and a seemingly endless mountain range with snow-capped jagged peaks. We also got lucky with the weather: it was clear and not too windy. That apparently wasn't the case the day before or after.

Unfortunately, 20,000 hectares of the park was set ablaze in January by an Israeli camper. As a result, he was initially held under house arrest in Santiago. Eventually, most of Chile wanted stiffer punishment. The Israeli government came to the rescue, flexed its muscle and soon the errant camper found his way back home. His supposed fine? $30. (Discuss.)

With a fellow shipmate, Mike, from Scotland, crossed into Argentina by bus. It was snowing at the border and we were greeted in Argentina with a photo of La Presidenta de los Argentinos Cristina Kirchner (fully Botoxed and seated in a gilt chair holding a scepter) and a hard-to-miss sign proclaiming the Falkland Islands as Argentine territory (an issue/farce currently being played out in the world of diplomacy and international relations).

Immediately headed for El Chalten, a small village and the trekking capital of Argentina. Found 90% of the town closed for the season, with only one restaurant open and a lone grocery with very limited selections (what, no eggs or black pepper??). But I managed to score a steak for every day I was there, prompting glances from fellow travelers who prepared only pasta or vegetables. I didn't care: I was finally in Argentina and was going to have all the beef I could, given the short amount of time I had. When in Rome, have pasta. When in Argentina, have beef. A lot of it.

Went with some fellow travelers on two incredible day hikes, having the entire park almost to ourselves. One day it was totally autumn-like, with entire mountains filled with autumn leaves and ending in an absolute surprise: a glacier lake filled with icebergs. Mind blowing. The next day in the other direction it was positively alpine, walking across fields covered with snow and passing frozen lakes.

Then headed for the last stop in Patagonia, El Calafate, a sleepy tony - but touristy - resort town with a casino on its short main drag. The main reason to stop by is to visit the spectacular El Perito Moreno glacier nearby. Went on a mini-trek on the glacier on crampons and had a whisky on glacier ice. I enjoyed it very much - don't know whether it was the ice, the whiskey or being on the glacier. It was great fun.

In town, also enjoyed a "tenedor libre", an eat-all-you-can grilled meat meal with lamb ribs, beef tenderloin, intestines (oh-so-crisp), morcilla (blood sausage): all while a gaucho with a guitar and in traditional attire serenaded the crowd with folk songs. Touristy? A bit, but I joined in the fun.

Tomorrow, Buenos Aires!