Mendoza: The land of wine and ecovales
Since Emma is off traveling Patagonia, Cam and Preston decided to indulge a little bit of travel as well- so we packed up everything into 1 1/2 backpacks (one is just a little bookbag) and headed west to Mendoza. You may know the area for its Malbec wines (here, the going rate for an excellent bottle of Malbec is 12 pesos, or roughly 4 dollars) but it is also to be the future hotbed of the ecovale. Let me explain.
We decided that our time in Buenos Aires, while fun, was somewhat unfulfilling (working in front of a computer = good time waster, bad for human and community interaction). So, we searched a website and applied to a few nonprofits out here- and within hours, El Prosumidor had written us back with an invitation to work (well, volunteer) with them.
The organization has been around since the 1990s, and has done a variety of things in the province of Mendoza- communal living and social sustainability projects- but one of the most interesting initiatives they have undertaken is the implementation of a “social currency.” In the 1990s, El Prosumidor began printing out a form of currency to be used within a given community- with the intention of retaining money, goods, and jobs within a certain marginalized area. Basically, it operated as a form of backlash against the negative effects of globalization, and as a way for the poorer subsets to be able to trade and operate without restraint. What is interesting is that at the same time, a Canadian man (whose name has escaped me) had introduced the same concept in parts of Canada- however, this currency was used by more affluent people in smaller towns, as a way of preserving the town and local ecology. In strict comparison, the Argentine example was not limited, but grew tremendously over the years- to a point where between 2 and 4 million people were using the notes.
Of course, all things come to an end, and some people began to print bills without restriction, which led to inflation and a loss of confidence, as well as the eventual disappearance of the currency. In recent years, others on the international scene- most notably in Forteleza, Brazil began to use their own currency, modeled on the Argentine version, called Palmas. You should definitely Google it; there is a video summary. In this slum of the city, community members started circulating this currency, and some people in the community operate and run businesses solely on the Palma: loans are given, products are purchased, people are paid. One woman proclaimed that she now never has to go downtown to purchase goods.
The Argentines are now revamping the initiative, and they are renaming the currency the ecovale. El Prosumador is again the driving force behind the reintroduction. The organization is incorporating certain safeguards to ensure that it won’t fail again, such as the support of local government, businesses, and other social organizations. Our job will be to help edit and translate a document that will be submitted to a World Bank summit, with the intention of introducing the project and seeking funding. In the process our gracious host, Alberto, has promised to introduce us to the intimate details of the project and other initiatives El Prosumador is spearheading, as well as introductions to other nonprofits in the community. He also employed another worker, Mauro, to help us find housing- which is costing just $100 each for a month, in a nice residential house that we share with 2 (or 3?- there are people constantly popping in and out) Argentines.
Tomorrow we plan to visit the Bodegas, so I’m sure there’ll be plenty of vino news for all those that are interested.
Victoria Part II: Proof that it is the most amiable town in Brazil
Emma recounted her experience with the friendly people of Victoria here, and I have to say, I am bound to agree.
Preston, Zach and I decided to visit Brazil’s most famous chocolate factory, just outside of Victoria one day (we needed chocolate after out decidedly unsweet night’s sleep at our hotel). We figured we would also kill two birds with one stone and visit the local convent as well, which overlooks the city of Villa Velha and the Atlantic Ocean.
We decided to be economical (the theoretical theme of the trip), and hopped aboard a bus. While on board, we realized that:
1. Villa Velha was not really a villa at all. It was actually rather big
2. We had no map
We decided that it was probably a bad idea to just wander around the city (which we later learned was the largest in the province of Espiritu Santos, bigger than even Victoria, the capital), and in broken portuguese Cam asked a young girl seated across from us on the bus. She informed us that she would let us know what stop to get off at, and give us directions to the factory.
Ten minutes later, she informed us that the factory was on the way to her house, and she would walk us there. We thankfully obliged (which was a good idea in retrospect, given the strange, indirect trajectory to the factory) and walked, partially in silence, partially in half-understood Spanish-Portuguese, to the Garoto factory.
Upon arrival, we learned that the factory was closed for tours during Carnaval. However, our friend (whose name was something like “Marion” but not quite… we have bad memories) arranged an English-speaking employee to come and answer our questions. We then bought an obscene amount of chocolate, including M’s favorite milk filled variety, thanked her profusely, and thought that would be the end of it.
It was only the beginning.
She informed us that she had arranged for her English-speaking friend to meet us at the convent, and to give us an informal guided tour. We told her not to bother, but she said that it would be her pleasure. We walked, bused, and cabbed it to the convent, and once we arrived, we found out that it too was closed. By this point her friend David had arrived (who spoke impeccable English), but neither would give up- they would show us Villa Velha if it killed us. They called the Ferry museum, which was closed. They offered to show us their mall, or a bar district, whatever- but we insisted that we were happy just wandering around, learning about the history of the town (which David knew quite a bit about).
We eventually wandered into a juice shop, and they sat to have a drink with us. We then went to a pharmacy. Eventually we realized that it was nearly 8 PM, and that we had an hour’s bus ride ahead of us- so we excused ourselves, knowing that they had already outdone themselves, spending over four hours with us.
But that was not the end. David insisted on riding the bus into town with us– and then back to his house, in addition to paying our bus fares. We sincerely hope that he did it to practice his English, because although we are obviously charming and interesting, we are probably not worth 6 hours of a stranger’s time!
In the end, although we did not get to see the chocolate factory, climb the hill to the convent, or experience the ferry museum, out introduction to Villa Velha and Victoria in general was overwhelmingly positive.
The Capoeira Chronicles
Capoeira is to Bahia as Samba is to Brazil. The half dance, half martial art is native to the region, and indeed, sprung out of the unique socio-historical process that only existed in the NE of the country. As we discovered upon our arrival, capoeira is flourishing in Salvador to this day.
Capoeira was originally developed as a means of training by slaves to overthrow their masters. They would engage in slow, steady, precise movements, without touching, so as to be flexible and attentive enough to throw off the slave owners. As plantation staff caught on to the plan, capoeira-ists got more clever- they first introduced bows that they would play as others were approaching the capoeira site, and they later turned the training into a sort of slow, ritual dance (that eventually incorporated the bows as a beat). This same tradition can be seen everywhere in Bahia today- capoeira studios abound, you can see individuals practicing flips on the beach, and, especially during Carnaval, if you see a congregation of people standing on the street, they are likely watching capoeira.
Normally, a crowd of people surround two individuals. They bow to one another and may then cartwheel, shake hands, etc- something to signal the start of the ritual. After that, they exchange in a series of kicks and punches, but without touching one another. The punchee must be attentive enough to react to the punch, and the puncher must know the limit of their opponent. Really skilled capoeira-ists would kick and spin at alarming speeds without touching their partner.
One night of Carnaval, we were standing around watching a performance (the one pictured), and one man from the inner circle came up to me (Cam) and motioned me inside. I obviously know nothing about capoeira outside of what I had seen in the previous two days, and I shook my head. But he was persistent, and maybe it was the bottle(s?) of sol I had consumed or the fact that I realized that this was a singular opportunity (do capoeira in Bahia during Carnaval!) but I stepped into the circle and prepared to fight.
First, I was wearing a dress, to they handed me some thin, wide white pants that I slid on. I then slyly stood on the outside of the circle, slightly hoping that they had forgotten about me, but then someone grabbed me and pulled me directly into the middle. I was standing there, face to face with a skilled capoeira-ist, not knowing what to do. Luckily, he told me to mimic his movements: step back with the left foot, then the right, then the left, then right. Then we began to air punch- in time with the feet, avoiding one another’s face. Finally, he told me to go for it- so I crouched down and went for his ankles.
I made him fall.
Just kidding. He was obviously really skilled, immediately avoided me, and I felt like I had sufficiently experienced performing capoeira in front of 100+ people. So I smiled and bowed out.
I don’t have pictured to put up now, but Preston has some that I will be sharing as soon as he uploads them to his computer!
Carnaval: No Naked Women, but Lots of Dancing
I’m not sure how often the debate comes up, but upon our arrival in Brazil we were forced to make the all-important decision- celebrate Carnaval in Rio or Salvador? Generally, Rio is flashier, fleshier, and more expensive; Salvador is more traditional, African-influenced, and democratic. So, because we were all somewhat broke (and because we had spent 5 straight days in the drizzle of Rio) we headed north– 30+ hours- to the sunshine of Salvador da Bahia.
Carnaval in Salvador is divided into a series of circuits that the bands and their loyal fans follow for hours every night. Some circuits are more family-oriented (one had children out celebrating at 2am), some are more party-oriented (one had a vendor selling shots every turn you made), and some are just a mess of people that make it hard to figure out exactly what they are oriented towards.
You can also celebrate Carnaval in a variety of ways. It appeared that with most tourists, they preferred to buy a week’s package at a club along a circuit, and enjoy an open bar and food buffet. Of course, this also cost a minimum of US$100/ night, so we did not indulge. A second option was to join a Carnaval troupe, and travel in a pack, dancing in the streets, surrounded by guards and a rope so no one could get in. Of course, you also had to pay, so we decided against this as well. The third (and free) option was to simply go out onto the street and wander around. We preferred this because we could see more floats and listen to more types of music, although it also put us in the path of pickpockets (both Preston and Zach had repeated- but unsuccessful- pickpocketing attempts), and mobs (one drunken mob rushed forward and we were pushed against a wall).
Our biggest challenge to get to the circuits was transportation. We stayed in a gorgeous apartment with a beach view, but it was in the suburb of Pituba, which is about 30 minutes from downtown as the crow flies, but took waaaayyy more time in both bus and taxi. This is likely because there are just a few roads going over the hills into town, because all the buses (hundreds and hundreds of buses take the same route), and because traffic was a mess during Carnaval. We tried dozens of combinations- more expensive mini-buses, normal buses, bus transfers, driving (we rented a car), and taxis. We never figured out an ideal route.
The street scene for Carnaval was lively and exciting. Some of the best food we had in Brazil we bought on the street- especially meat skewers we lovingly referred to as “street meat.” We would spend $5 a night for dinner because we would indulge in meat, vegetables, manioc, and desserts and we walked around and took in the atmosphere.
Of course, we can’t leave out a description of the parades. Every one was themed, and the participants would wear their costumes the entire week (even if they weren’t performing that day). So there would be women walking around in white hooped skirts, men dressed up as Roman soldiers, the ubiquitous “Sons of Gandhi” and Egyptian pharaohs. It was like a week-long Halloween, but with more dancing and samba music. The floats would drift down the street, with a band playing samba, reggae, or some version thereof, and a half-dozen dancing shaking on top of a car, and the in front and behind the float would be any number of costumed musicians and dancers grinding in unison to the music as well. All in all, while Rio may have the flash, Salvador has the soul of Carnaval.
and we’re back (part II)
As promised, we are back to writing about Brazil. Well, sort of- we are on Latin American time, you have to remember!
At the moment, Emma is camping around Patagonia, with little access to a computer, but I talked to her the other day and she assures me she is healthy, alive, and loving the escape from the city.
I, on the other hand, have been continuing to write write write here in BA. Spending so much time in front of a computer leads to 2 things:
1. I have nothing interesting to write home about
2. I have gradually come to hate writing on the computer
However, I have decided to briefly ignore my hatred because I just had an amazing brunch (almost American-style– Swedish is close enough, right?) and because I need to satisfy everyone’s well-merited curiosity. And my parents told me to.
So, I will write a few passages about Brazil, see if I can manage to think up anything interesting that has happened since I’ve gotten back, and, in the meantime, if you really miss my writing, you can visit the websites I’ve been devoting my time to instead of the blog! Go to Argentinas Travel to see the restaurant section I have been compiling, or, if you dare, to Killer Start Ups to read some web site reviews.
Vitoria: Town of beautiful umbrellas, terrible hotels and good seafood
On our way to Salvador the 6 of us stopped in a little town by the name of Vitoria. Although we were heading north to escape the rain, Vitoria was not quite north enough. The first thing I noticed while entering the small port town was the beautiful umbrellas that lined the streets. Every woman and man had the most vibrant umbrellas, ranging from crazy colorful to floral patterns that rival Laura Ashley. Even with the gray rainy weather, my spirits were immediately lifted because of these paragua beauties.
While in Vitoria we stayed in a hotel that was supposedly “the nicer” between the two options our guidebook suggested. If this hotel was the nicest, then I would definitely never want to step foot in the other. We got two bedrooms with three small styrofoam mattresses, accopmained by wet pillows (luckily I brought my own, despite the harassment of the rest of the group). The rooms were damp and cold, but the showers were even worse. If it had been warm out, the lack of hot water would not have been a problem, but unfortunately it was pretty cold. There were also wires hangin around the shower, and while Russ was trying to somehow.. do something.. not so sure what.. he got a little electric shock. Needless to say, he was not happy and a little freaked out.
We were however able to find some really good seafood while staying here. We used our lonely planet’s food guide. Though after its hotel suggestions, I am surprised we trusted their food recommendation. We attempted to go to a resturant that no longer exists, but in its place there was an excellent little seafood spot. Moqueca is a specialty of Vitoria, and a seafood stew with some sort of special fish sauce. Sounds kinda nasty, but actually really really good. The fish most commonly used in Vitoria is the Pirao. As soon as the waiter came over, I asked what the best dish on the menu was (although Russ always objects to this inquiry, as I do it often… it lead us down the right path) and informed us that hands down Moqueca with Pirao was the best item and their particular specialty.
Vitoria was starved for tourists. It seemed that everyone we met wanted to befriend us and help us out. Emma, Russ, and Gabi meet a fiery girl named Mariana in a coffee shop. She showed the catalogue from her boyfriend’s bikini line. She told us she wanted an “American opinion” and did we think it looked professional enough, she asked. Emma and Gabi agreed that it had a few flaws (uneven skin tones and so forth) but Russ is still looking it over before he makes a final decision on the bikini matter.
Dave, the dirty old man
For our first few nights in Rio, we rented an apartment in Copacabana. The apartment was the perfect size, but came with a small price, a creepy landlord named Dave. Upon our groggy arrival (no sleep the night before our 5am departure) Dave, a slightly overweight balding ex-pat hailing from upstate New York, excitedly mentioned where we could find the best strip clubs in Rio. One night, finding all the boys in our group sans us girls in the elevator, Dave told them where to find the most beautiful prostitutes in Brazil. Zach smiled awkwardly and said, “oh, cool….”
Dave’s style and influence could be found in every room. The apartment was adorned with bright paintings of naked women and each room had mirrors, mirrors and more mirrors. And oh were there treasures to be found in drawers and closets! Behind door number one, a pair of dirty briefs. What about door number two? An empty economy size box of Trojans and stuffed inside, an empty KY jelly box.
Dave’s apartment, which doubled as his office, was directly above our apartment. It was up there while using the telephone, that one victim of our party discovered the perfect finale for this little saga. Hanging directly across from his bed, Dave had a nearly life size portrait of himself with not one, no, not two but FIVE naked women. He really classed this one up when he opted for a soft sepia tone rather than the bright colors of the paintings in our apartment. This is the dream world that Dave sees every night before falling asleep and each morning when he wakes. He sees a world where five naked women are ecstatic to be in the company of his utter and complete hotness. Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Rio!
Taken by Zach, while Gabi and Emma distracted his fleet of women workers… although this photo does does not do justice, two of Dave’s ladies are cut off… also.. although he appears to have a 6 pack in this photo… there was none such to be found on the real thing.
by, guest blogger Gabi and emma (a little)
our ascension to cristo
</One of our first activities on the agenda upon arriving in Rio was to see the statue of Christ. Basically the symbol of Rio de Janeiro, the Cristo divides the zona norte (poorer) from the zona sul (richer- think Copacabana and Ipanema), extends one hand out to each side, and is visible on its hilltop from all angles of the city.
We decided that we would avoid the tourist trap tram up to the top and attempt a hike. We took an hour of public transport to get to the base, passed the tram spot, and after receiving some directions, headed up the hill. As we passed a certain point, we noticed 3 young Brazilian men lounging on motorcycles. They informed us that up ahead a little bit was a favela (shanytown) and that it was unsafe to continue on foot (not to mention a 2+ hour trek to the top up a very steep hill). They said they would take us to the top for 5 Reals (about 3 dollars), and luckily, there were 6 bikes and drivers. We decided that we were ready for an adventure, so we all hopped aboard the bikes and took off up the hill.
And the ride was incredible. Although the favela’s danger appeared to be overexaggerated, traveling up the hill in the open air, with the ability to enjoy the vistas that might pass too quickly in a car (but avoiding the calf- and feet-aching pain that we would have felt had we walked) we arrived just below the summit of the hill and ended with a 25 minute walk to the top.
While the view’s from the peak were incredible, and the statue of Christ impressionable, I think that we will all remember the site for the ride up rather than the ultimate destination.
Back From Brazil
Sorry we have been on a bit of a hiatus here at CandE central. We touched down in BA last night and have been getting back into the grind today… photos and stories from Rio, Carnaval, and everything in between to come shortly!
