Picture yourself standing on the golden sands of Copacabana Beach. Yes, that is what many of us think about when we hear the word Brazil. But there is much more to it. Join me as I recount my experiences, from the thundering Iguazu Falls to the colourful streets of Salvador and indeed the beaches of Rio de Janeiro.
Nestled on the border between Brazil and Argentina, the Iguazu waterfalls are a cascade of water plunging 80 meters amidst lush rainforest surroundings. Owning the title for the largest waterfall system in the world, Iguazu has over 200 individual cascades and spans 2.7 km in width. Francien and I walked on walkways on the edge of the falls from where we saw the waters plummet into the gorge deep below. The thundering roaring sound of water crashing against the rocks made it difficult to hear each other talk. The mist rose from the depths below, and we saw rainbows in the spray. It was bigger and stronger than what I had expected. A humbling experience, feeling so tiny amid this raw power of nature.
Iguazu waterfalls. The spray made is soaking wet, the roaring sound was deafening.
The mighty Iguazu River feeds this natural wonder. One day earlier arriving by airplane, staring through the window, I already had seen the four river systems cutting through the rainforests below. One of these rivers powered the Itaipu hydropower plant, a mere one-hour drive from the Iguazu waterfalls. Located on the Paraná River on the border between Brazil and Paraguay, it is one of the largest hydroelectric facilities in the world. I was privileged to visit this enormous structure. The dam wall is 7 kilometres long and I walked inside it, gazing at the 20 turbine-generator units, each with a capacity of approximately 700 megawatts. All that power generated without producing any CO2: that is the way to go.
Itaipu hydropower plant. Note those turbine discharge pipes
Is Brazil a big country? No, it is enormous. In fact, it is twice the size of the European Union and we came to realize that when we flew from Iguazu to Salvador, in the north eastern state Bahia. A 3-hour flight hardly crossing the country! It was here almost five centuries ago that Pedro Cabral landed after being blown off course on route to the Cape of Good Hope. Salvador was then founded by the Portuguese in 1549, and is one of the oldest cities in the Americas. Today this city of 3.9 million people is known for its Afro-Brazilian influences, vibrant music, and historic architecture. We experienced some of that when we wandered through the winding alleyways through the Pelourinho district, a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is a mix of pastel-coloured buildings, cobblestone streets, and lively squares. Beautifully preserved 17th and 18th-century buildings. We visited the Cathedral and sat down in the middle of the Church and Convent of São Francisco, taking in the impressive intricate gold leaf decorations and perspective mural paintings, mimicking the painting technique use in the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican in Rome. Many people walking on the streets were colourful dressed, smiling and some playing music. A Banama woman, wearing traditional white dress (from her African roots) walked past while a man offered people to drive bad spirits out of their bodies with one-meter-long herb branches he carried on his shoulders. In a shop, one could buy the Berimbau, the traditional musical instrument from Bahia.
On the seaside boulevard we strolled around Farol da Barra, a Portuguese fort with a light house. We tasted street food and watched people swimming, jogging or just hanging around. However, another aspect of this city with its many poor people was the high crime rate which made it impossible to walk after dark in most parts of the city. Those people, living in the favela’s which are spread all across the city, rob the people living in and around the upmarket high-rise condos where our friends Martha and Joao lived. There was a high level of inequality not only in this Brazilian city as we found out later.
Salvador Old Town Square
Salvador Cathedral
Church and Convent of São Francisco
Street dancer in the Old Town of Salvador
Sitting on a terrace on Largo do Pelourinho with a Banama woman walking past
Tasting street food around Farol da Barra in Salvador
Indeed, we left the city and drove six hours to the west to the town of Lençóis. The undulating landscape became dryer, empty cattle land with few farms and tiny villages. We saw three cowboys driving their white skinny looking cattle to nearby waterholes. One Emu bird was seeking shade from the scorching sun which drove the temperature up to 36°C. The roads were windy, dented with potholes and had a rough surface. We filled up the car with ethanol, made from sugarcane.
Together with Martha and Joao we visited a banana fazenda. Once a week, around 30 workers loaded 10 ton banana’s into the trucks of the distributors. These men and women had no education, many of them unable to read or write. Earning €60 per week they were destined to live a simple life in their village isolated from the rest of the country. On the farm we walked amid hundred’s of fruit trees carrying mangos, papaya’s, jackfruit, jenipapo, cashew apples, acerola, seriguela, star fruit, pinha, sapoti, lime and oranges. At night, three Brazilian Fila dogs, vicious guard dogs, were let loose on the farm to
Sorting out bananas on the farm
Purple mango’s on the farm
Further to the West we visited Chapada Diamantina National Park. It is a rugged dry terrain on top of a plateau. We hiked up the hills and swam in waterfalls. In the limestone hills there were a number of caves through which rivers and small streams made their way. One of the reasons we enjoy travelling with friends – Doing things we just wouldn’t sign up for traveling on our own. That is what we did, snorkelling in the Gruta Pratinha, led by an experience guide. After swimming 50 meters, we entered the pitch-black darkness of a different world. With our flashlights we could see on the cave ceiling colourful stalactites. I almost hit my head on the cave ceiling while gazing at some bats hanging on the stalactite’s. On the bare white sandy bottom, in the beam of my flashlight I saw up to 1-meter-long fishes. An altogether different snorkelling experience in fresh crystal clear 24°C water.
Before heading back to our hotel we hiked up a 800 meters high hill and enjoyed a sunset view across table mountains, cliffs and deep ravines. In many gorges and fissures early immigrants used to find diamonds, but those adventures times were long gone. The terrain was covered with dry shrubs and I almost stepped on a rattlesnake which crossed the narrow path we were walking on.
Enjoying a refreshing swim
A hard back massage from this 12-meter-high waterfall
Preparing for our snorkelling into the Gruta Pratinha limestone cave
Limestone table mountains in the Chapada Diamantina National Park
The culture of the people we met and observed is all about the heritage of indigenous peoples, Portuguese colonization, and the forced migration of African slaves. Additionally, there are influences from Italian, German and Japanese immigrants. People behaved and dressed overly casual. It seemed all Brazilians walk on Havaianas slippers. They talked long with a monotones tone and were very welcoming people. They loved to party. One evening we sat on a square and listened to live music. There were mostly young and hippy style people, wearing dreadlocks, alternative clothing and I could smell the smoke of marijuana. We drank cachaça and had a good time.
On the entire journey, hardly anyone spoke English, even on national flights the safety instructions were only in Portugees. (sorry, my fault, I do not speak Portuguese). We saw few international brands, foreign restaurants or global news. In fact, those international chains like Mc Donalds and Subway were adapted to local Brazilian taste. In public places, all people 60+ can go directly to a priority line, reducing waiting times: cool for us, but it felt strange. Many place names were indigenous. All this made me feel somewhat disconnected from the rest of the world.
Not to forget, the Brazilian body cult. Women need to have large breasts and big buttocks. Men should be muscular and tanned. It is all about appearance and looking good. And where did we see this the most? Rio de Janeiro. Yes, visiting Brazil and not spending some time in Rio, that is a a no no. On the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema we saw bodies of all shapes and sizes. Brazilian swimwear is known for its boldness, with bikinis and swim trunks that show the confidence and body positivity of the people. The white and clean beaches are foremost frequented by young people. There is a laid-back beach culture, sipping coconut water, joining impromptu beach volleyball matches, swimming, fitness exercising, jogging, power trainings and surfing. Francien and I enjoyed our morning runs on the Copacabana, feeling just a few hours part of this unique lifestyle.
The Copacabana on the horizon (picture taken from the Sugarloaf Mountain)
Francien does her morning run on the Copacabana
On the Copacabana Beach
On top of Sugarloaf Mountain
Maracanã stadium, a football temple, but rather rundown and in need of some serious maintenance
Police and heavily armed para military in armoured cars were never out of sight in those areas frequented by tourists like the beaches, Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer and Santa Teresa old town. It gave us a sense of safety as the crime rate in the big cities in Brazil is notoriously high. Favelas are another facet of this city. Densely populated, informal settlements on the hillsides of Rio de Janeiro. Crime rates are high, and poverty, limited access to education, bad infrastructure and drug trafficking contribute to this. We visited Rocinha, a favela with 200000 people, clad against a steep mountain. Before we started our tour, our guide told us: ‘This tour is sanctioned by the cartel and therefore we are safe and secure as long as we follow his instructions.’ Excuse me, what did he just say? This slum has indeed its own rules set by the gangs as we could see that the police did not enter this part of the city. It was congested with small busses and motorbikes on a few narrow streets. Francien and I walked through narrow alleyways, between the houses which were stagged on top of each other, sometimes collapsing under their own weight. It felt claustrophobic. We learned how the people go about their daily lives. When we walked past heavily armed drug dealers our guide urged us not to take any pictures.
It was an insightful and fascinating way to see a different side of the country.
Walking in the narrow alleyways in the Rocinha favela, Rio de Janeiro
This journey was a mix of new experiences. However, it offered only a glimpse into what this vast country has to offer.
Obrigado, Brazil!