OPO - LGW

Over the past five days I had more than my share of bacalhau, coffee, pastéis de nata, and wine. Back to London for some detox.

Photos of Portugal are coming soon...

Porto

After two days in Portugal it was time to head into the heart of Porto, Portugal's second city and home of countless wineries dedicated to producing port wine (this is the only part of the world where port is made)

Porto didn't strike me as a very big place when we walked out of the train station. It was a beautiful view though: narrow brick paved streets stretching all the way to the river Douro, on both sides a single wall of very old Portuguese style buildings which didn't leave much room for the sunlight to come through, giving the city an almost medieval look.

As soon as we stepped on to the city's brick streets we headed for the Porto Cathedral, atop of a hill and seen from most parts of the city centre. What from outside looked like a castle actually housed the cathedral and a museum of sorts which had very few but interesting things on display, including samples of ancient hand painted tiles, and a reproduction of two pages of the first book ever printed in Porto, in the early 1400s. It was ancient Portuguese and I was struggling to even read the first line.

We didn't linger for too long in there as it was very cold and most of us (apart from Isabel!) were very unprepared for it. So we headed out into the sun towards the river for a Portuguese latte (meia de leite)

Beautiful view from down there -- it is definitely the image of Porto that I will take with me. All the charming old houses are very colourful and well looked after, and there are lots of cafés and restaurants where you can relax and enjoy the view while having a cup of coffee or some bacalhau à moda da casa. The whole area along the river's edge is kind of touristy but still nice.

Along the opposite edge of the river sit all the main caves (or wine caves) where later that afternoon we went on a wine tour and tasted a couple of varieties of port (the tour/tasting costs €3.50 which you can discount off the price of one wine bottle at the end -- should you choose to buy one). All the grapes and most of the port is actually produced elsewhere, upstream the Douro, but all the main wineries keep cellars and shops in the city centre where they are conveniently within reach of the tourists's pockets.

We then took a bus tour around the city which was okay but a bit too rushed for me. I need time to walk around the buildings, look at the shops, people walking by, and take photos. But I went back to most of the same locations the following day when I was by myself and could take my time.

Halfway through the bus tour we stopped at the beach for a delicious lunch by the sea (I had bacalhau, of course), then back to the city centre for the wine tour, and straight home to warm up!

The thing that struck me most about Porto though were the hand painted and patterned tiles which are everywhere and give the city a beautiful, uniquely colourful look. But apart from the more touristy areas, the buildings are very poorly looked after. Many look or are abandoned, with broken doors/windows, and I was shocked to see that people still lived in them.

Paredes

Paredes is a town about 30 minutes east of Porto. It's a very quiet, cute little town with a couple of busier streets, a main square and a church which at night is beautifully lit up. It reminds me of countryside Brazil.

We spent Christmas with Isabel's family here. On Christmas Eve we had a lavish meal of potatoes, bacalhau (cod) and vinho verde (green wine), followed by about eight different kinds of cakes, some port wine, and finally coffee: a single shot, black, with sugar, served in a tiny cup. Just as it should be.

After opening the presents (as in Brazil, this is done on Christmas Eve, not Christmas day) and chatting for a bit over a few more drinks, we went to bed and had a good night sleep.

The next day I woke up very early and instead of sitting around waiting for everyone else to wake up, I decided to go on a short stroll to get acquainted with the surroundings.

As expected, before 8 a.m. on Christmas day the town was deserted. It was a frosty morning and the air was very crisp but the low morning sun made it a perfect morning to walk around. I walked past a couple of older men making their way to the Christmas service and decided to follow them into town, across the bridge over the train station.

What I saw on the way made me forget I was in Portugal, taking me straight home: the cafés with people sitting at the bar, the tiny shops with familiar names, the old folk saying hello as they passed by, the quaint houses decorated with patterned tiles, the architecture, the narrow brick paved streets.

Despite feeling at home, me and my big old camera certainly didn't belong there. At one stage this old lady walking past asked me why I was photographing the houses, particularly the abandoned/neglected ones! Somehow I thought she wouldn't quite comprehend, or care for, my obsession with urban decay so I just told her I was a tourist which seemed to have been a good enough reason as she went back to her business and let me be.

LGW - OPO

After a quick and painless train ride from Brentford train station to Gatwick Airport, Grazi and I went straight to the TAP check-in counter to get rid of our heavy bags. Much to our surprise, the lady told us we were flying business class!!

Whether it was a mistake when booking the tickets, or they just decided to bump us up because we are such nice people, the fact is that we are now sitting in the business class lounge waiting to board. It's kind of average, really. (had this happened in Heathrow's new terminal 5, or somewhere like Singapore, I am sure we would have been much better off) But we do get free food so I'm not complaining.

Yes, yes, I know I have barely arrived in the UK and I'm already flying out. But it's Christmas! And our friend Isabel has kindly invited us to spend Christmas in Portugal with her family.

So we're heading to Porto (where the port wine comes from!) for five days of sightseeing and gorging ourselves on delicious Portuguese wine and food. Can't wait!

FLN - GRU - LHR

Time to start again. I am no longer in limbo. I've been at the São Paulo airport for hours and the flight to my new home departs in about an hour. I am excited and anxious at the same time.

But it's the journey that counts, not the destination. And so far the journey has been a hell of a lot of fun.

 

"If we do not find anything pleasant, at least we shall find something new" -- Voltaire

Photos of Santiago de Chile

I have just posted the photos I took during my three days in Santiago -- to go with the latest posts.

Here's a preview:

 

All the photos can be found here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/meurer/sets/72157610292798332/

Enjoy!

SCL - GRU - FLN

Landed in São Paulo. I have been in the country for less than two hours and already it's driving me crazy. I keep being reminded of all the things that make me not want to come back to live here. That's ok, deep breath... count to ten... it's only for three weeks. At least I'll get to see my family in a few hours.

I miss New Zealand.

Santiago de Chile, day 3 - Wine and football

Woke up early this morning because I am heading to the Concha y Toro winery. Can't believe how excited I have been about this till now. First, because I will be heading out of Santiago for the first time, I will get to ride the train on my own, and I will get to visit one of the main wineries in the world (I didn't know this but Concha y Toro is amongst the top 10 wine producers in the planet)

The tour ended up being just ok  but at just NZ$15 I couldn't really ask for more. It included two wine tastings (you had to pay extra for more), plus a walk around the vineyards and got a visit to the famously grim Casillero del Diablo (the devil's cellar). Transportation to the winery is a breeze: catch a couple of trains south, then a quick taxi or bus ride to the winery.

Since I had seen pretty much all I wanted to see in Santiago, on the way back from Concha y Toro I decided to stop at a huge mall I had spotted on the way there. It's located right next to one of the trains stations south of Santiago. I did some window shopping (prices were actually quite low as compared to New Zealand but I just didn't have ANY space left in my luggage), had lunch, and went on to watch Blindness at the movies. I can't believe the ticket only cost me about NZ$5!! The movie, by the way, is incredible. I had read the book by José Saramago a few years ago and it was quite impressive, but the movie gives visual life to a chaotic world where people start to go blind. Most of the movie was shot in São Paulo which gives it a unique run down look that only adds to the mood.

After the movie I headed back to Santiago and I thought it was time for one last café con piernas. I loved the thing. Even better, when I walked out of the café it was rush hour and a multitude of people were gathered on the paseo (a street exclusive to pedestrians) looking up at a huge screen showing a football game Chile vs. Spain. It's like everyone just stopped on their way home to watch the game. I hadn't seen such a thing even in Brazil, where we are supposed to be crazy about soccer. I managed to get some good photos, and stuck around for a while watching the game amongst the crowd. In case you were wondering, Chile lost 3x0.

Then it was time to get ready to leave. I had dinner at a way below average Italian restaurant (which was surprisingly crowded) but at least managed to have some good Chilean wine. Tomorrow I am back in the motherland.

Santiago de Chile, day 2 - Strikes, legs, and coffee

Today I was planning to walk all day long so I thought I'd better start with some breakfast.

I headed to Café Haiti in the financial district for a typical Santiago breakfast: café con piernas. Yes, you heard it right: coffee with legs. You pay for your coffee at the door (cappuccino for me) and then hand the receipt at the counter to one of the waitresses who will bring you your coffee. What about the legs, you ask? Well, the thing is all waitresses are wearing high heels and incredibly short skirts! The environment is surprisingly conservative though, and most customers are businessmen on the way to or on a break from work.

As I walked out of Café Haiti I heard a very loud protest not too far away. Sensing some good photo opportunities I decided to run after the mob but I was too late and I couldn't track them down. Oh yes, half the population of Santiago seems to be on strike. In my three days here I saw at least a dozen different strikes around the city. Strikes are such a South American thing, I had completely forgotten about them. You'd think we are descendants of the French.

I then moved on to some of the common tourist destinations of Santiago, all nice enough but nothing special: Palacio de la Moneda (the presidential palace, which is quite compact when compared to its Brazilian and Argentinean counterparts), the Museo Precolombiano de Arte Chileno for some history lessons on the pre-Colombian civilizations in America, and the Plaza de Armas, Santiago's central square where the city was founded.

I decided to go on a bit of a longer walk north as I was determined to visit the Mercado Central, where you can buy (very cheap) a wide variety of fish and all kinds of seafood imaginable. In the market there are also countless restaurants (not so cheap) where you can try some of the food. While Santiago's Mercado Central is very nice, it is getting a bit too touristy for my taste, and I think the central market in Florianópolis is nicer both inside and outside, and you can walk around without being hassled by waiters trying to get you to eat at their restaurant. Plus, the food in Florianópolis is better as well.

After lunch at the market I was so tired that I walked back to the hotel for a siesta. When in Rome...

Some sleep was all I needed to recharge the batteries as by 3 pm I was ready to head out to Cerro Santa Lucia, a park built on and around a small mount sprouting right in the middle of the city centre. This was the highlight of the day, maybe because I wasn't expecting much. But the park is definitely worth a visit. It is full of plazas, viewpoints, statues, love seats, narrow stairways, and hidden corners to explore. If you climb all the way to the top (quite a hike!) you get a 360 view of Santiago, and a nice view of the Andes as far as your eyesight will stretch (or as far as the smog will allow). You also get a privileged view of Cerro San Cristóbal, Cerro Santa Lucia's big brother where Santiago's Zoo is located. I walked about 25 minutes all the way to Cerro San Cristóbal but unfortunately it was closed due to a strike. Later when I got to the hotel I learned that the walk to San Cristóbal didn't have to be a complete waste as I was a short stroll from Pablo Neruda's house-turned-museum but missed it. Doh!

Then it was time for a quick dinner at the Barrio Bellavista with a couple of other tourists I met at random and take the subway back to the hotel for a good night sleep. Tomorrow I've got some wine tasting to do!

Santiago de Chile, day 1 - Smog, stray dogs, and pisco sour

I have just arrived in Santiago and frankly I am a bit lost. It always happens. The first couple of hours in a foreign land are always the hardest. You have no idea where you are. You don't trust anyone. You look at the city map, it doesn't mean a thing to you and you don't know how to get from A to B. My first impulse is to stay locked in the hotel room. It's a comfortable place where I know I am safe. Part of me is saying "you could just stay in here for all three days and watch TV" but a few minutes later I come to my senses and push myself out the door.

It's past 4 pm so I decide to just go on a recon mission. No maps, no camera, no backpack. I try not to dress like a tourist so I can just walk around unnoticed and get a feel for the city and the people. It's so hot I decide to buy a bottle of fresh water (sin gas!) There's a tourist alert right there. But then I notice that many locals are also walking around holding a bottle of water. It's all good.

I hadn't noticed on the way from the airport but from lots of places in Santiago you can actually see the Andes. Well, barely. The smog which covers city makes everything very hazy. But they're there. And you can tell the mountains are incredibly high, like a huge wall protecting Chile from the rest of South America. it's hot as hell down here (30+ degrees) but the mountains in the distance are still covered in snow.

I turn away from the Andes and continue walking along Av. Libertador Bernardo O'Higgins, which seems to be Santiago's main street and borders the city centre to the south.

It strikes me how tiny Santiago's city centre is. In my short stroll I walked past several of the places I will be returning to tomorrow with a little more time and (more importantly) my Canon SLR. Cerro Santa Lucia, Palacio de la Moneda, Biblioteca Nacional, Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombiano, Plaza de Armas, Catedral de Santiago, Mercado Central: they are all within 5-10 minutes walking distance from one another. Santiago is going to be a walk in the park.

Then I noticed something: stray dogs. They are everywhere. But they are not like the stray dogs I've seen in other countries. For one thing, most of these are big, the size of German Shepherds, and look well-fed and healthy apart from their badly kept coat. But the most bizarre thing is how they are strategically stationed at the traffic lights, one or two dogs per set of lights. It's like that is their territory. When pedestrians are crossing, they sit calmly at the kerb, just watching everyone walk by. But as the lights turn green, they go postal and start attacking the cars going by at 60km/h!! I am surprised I didn't see any of them get run over.

As it was getting close to 7 pm I decided it was time to find a place to eat. Luckily enough I was just next to Cerro Santa Lucia when I saw a sign saying Barrio Historico so I decided to see what that was all about. It turns out I was walking into Calle J. V. Lastarria which sports a nice collection of al fresco cafés and restaurants. After walking around a bit I chose to go back to the first one I saw, called Patagonia (which I can recommend) and had the most amazingly cooked steak with quail eggs and potatoes, preceded of course by a delicious Pisco Sour, one of Chile's signature cocktails (it tastes much like a caipirinha!)

Now I made it back to the hotel. I am very tired and very jet-lagged. Will talk again tomorrrow.

AKL - SCL

Today is the day I leave New Zealand. Been feeling a little funny all day, a bit like getting butterflies.

The last few days have been incredibly busy. Friday was my last day at work, and a night Olympic threw a huge farewell party. Then I had my own farewell party the next day which went on till early Sunday morning. Yesterday (Sunday) was a day of shopping and generally sorting things out the last few things. Thiago and Karla took me out for breakfast, and Ivy and Ken took me out for a delicious Japanese dinner at the viaduct. And this morning Sheba picked me up and took me out for breakfast in Remuera (I chose the location, strategically opposite Dick Smith because I still had some last minute shopping to do!)

Warner, Sheba, and Sunny came to see me off at the airport which was great as I would hate to be waiting there by myself. We had a coffee and took some funny photos of them trying to keep me from boarding (which I'll expect to see in the next edition of the ASD magazine!) but I am sure I must have seemed a little "out" since all I could think about was that in a couple of hours I was going to be leaving New Zealand for what may be a very long time.

Board the plane. Thirteen hours later and I am in Santiago de Chile. Just in case I had any doubts as to where I was, the chaos at the arrival area and all the yelling and pushing and taxi drivers hassling me confirmed that this was indeed South American soil.

So let's see what Santiago is all about, shall we.

Leaving New Zealand

I've been wanting to write this for such a long time but haven't been able to find the time or the inspiration. I have always found that with me, inspiration comes when I am away from home. Sitting here on the deck of a bach twenty meters away from the Pukehina Beach sands with a glass of wine and what would be complete silence were it not for the waves breaking before me as they are lit up by the low afternoon sun, I suddenly feel the urge to write.

After I am done thanking the god of laptops and cordless devices (alas, no power points in sight out on the deck) I begin to think that I couldn't have asked for a better setting to write this article. A weekend away with friends in a quiet place by the beach, good wine, good food, good chats and good laughs. And I am thinking this is exactly why I fell in love with New Zealand in the first place: the quiet, laid back life style, the beautiful scenery, and how easy it is to just get away from city life whenever you feel the need to.

Now I am leaving New Zealand and it makes me sad despite all the new adventures waiting for me abroad. It's more of a mix of wanting to go but not wanting to leave. Five years ago when I was preparing to leave Brazil for a new life half way around the world I couldn't have pictured, in my wildest dreams, that things would have turned out the way they did.

New Zealand has been good to me.

Here I found a job that I truly enjoy, where I have friends, peers, heroes, and followers. Aside from the professional growth and all the opportunities given to me, Olympic has been key in supporting all other aspects in my life in New Zealand, from friendships to travels to personal development.

Here I found true friends. People I deeply care about, and who also care about me. Friends who I'll keep in touch for years and years to come, and will certainly get to catch up with many times in our travels around the world.

Here I found places to go. It goes without saying that New Zealand has wonderful scenery. But it's a funny thing, living abroad. You get to spend the first year or so living as a tourist and end up seeing more of the country than most locals. Then you start to settle, routine kicks in, and you experience the life of a local.

Here I found a new take on life. My short stay here couldn't have been further from my original plan. And it could hardly have been any better. Now I am finding it much harder to leave New Zealand than it was to leave Brazil. Which only goes to show how much more at home I feel here, amongst this myriad of cultures, religions, and ethnic food. My roots are in Brazil, and so is my family. But a good chunk of my heart is here.

Pause here. I just went over the text again and realised I am struggling to find the right words. I suppose all that I am trying to say is that I am very grateful for all that's happened in the last five years. And I already miss everyone and everything about New Zealand.

I need to be going now. The sun has set and it's getting cold out here. In the distance I can see a storm coming. But mostly, the laptop battery is running out and inside the house everyone is gathering around the table because Sheba's home made curry is about to be served. I couldn't have thought of a better ending myself.

I will so miss you all.

More Snow

My good friend Juliana (or simply Ju) came to NZ for a visit last week. It was awesome to see Ju again, hang out with her, take her around the country, and have some good chats. I just realised that we've been good friends ever since we were exchange students in the US (13+ years ago) and while we only get to catch up every one or two years we've always kept in touch.

We went to Mt Ruapehu with my work mates and Ju came along. Two days of snowboarding, a drive up to Taupo and Rotorua, and a few luge rides. Great fun!

What we didn't expect was that people here would find it extremely odd hearing an Asian girl speaking perfect Portuguese. Or speaking English with a Brazilian accent. Ju got several remarks from my Asian friends, but the truly surreal experience was at her last night here when we were having dinner at a Thai restaurant in Parnell. The waitress (Asian, presumably Thai) kept staring at Ju the entire evening, what made her feel quite uncomfortable, but I was laughing my head off.

Good times. Valeu Ju!

Queenstown

Acabei de voltar de uma semana inteira snowboarding em Queenstown.

Queenstown é uma armadilha para turistas em tamanho família. Tudo é inflacionado, da diária do hotel, a restaurantes, a lojas de grife. Mesmo assim Queenstown está sempre cheia durante o ano inteiro. No verão, esportes radicais tipo skydiving, bungee jumping, shotover jet, paragliding. No inverno, montanhas cobertas de neve e vários ski fields por perto. Adivinha porque eu fui.

Algumas fotos de Queenstown coberta de neve:

A caminho da montanha:

E lá em cima!

Voltando da montanha:

Mais fotos aqui: http://tinyurl.com/6bn536

Duas curiosidades sobre Queenstown: tem mais leitos de hotel do que habitantes, e é a cidade da Nova Zelândia com mais brasileiros per capita. Pode?

Sri Lanka & Bangkok Photos

Antes tarde do que nunca...

I had posted these photos of my trip to Sri Lanka and Bangkok to flickr a while ago. Here they are:

• Sri Lanka
• Bhagya and Sasanka's Wedding (in Sri Lanka)
• Bankgok (2 day stopover)

Travel Journal #15 (13 May): Elephants and the Buddha's Tooth

Last day in Sri Lanka. Woke up in Kandy, the country's cultural capital. I didn't have much time there so after breakfast it was off to the main attraction in Kandy: the Temple of the Tooth Relic.

That's where they keep the Buddha's left canine tooth! I actually thought that was kind of creepy. The tooth was snatched from the Buddha's cremation chamber and it eventually made its way from India to Sri Lanka. What's even more creepy is that the tooth is paraded around the streets of Kandy every year in the Esala Perahera festival. The festival is supposed to be great but I am not so sure I am sorry that I missed it.

The temple itself is actually very nice. What struck me most about the place was that as you are walking towards the entrance to the temple there is a beautiful garden with several statues and they all have their back to you. Of course there's a reason for it: no one should be standing with their back to the Buddha -- and I suppose that include statues!

Leaving Kandy, on our way to Colombo we stopped at the Elephant Orphanage in Pinnawela. As it turns out the war is going on in the elephants natural habitat and is hurting them. Many are being killed by land mines or left homeless. Some of them are brought to the orphanage where they are kept in semi wild conditions.

I had lots of fun having lunch while watching 60 or so elephants in the river only a few meters away. They were bathing, playing, and generally just being elephants. One of them had three legs from stepping on a land mine. He still walks down to the river and back to the orphanage every day.

Once I had enough of elephant watching we made our way back to Colombo. I only had time to take a shower, get my bags, and head to the airport. I'll be lucky to get a couple of hours sleep on the plane before I start a brand new day in Bangkok.

Travel Journal #14 (12 May): Sigiriya

I spent my last two days in upcountry Sri Lanka which is one huge World Heritage site. The first day was a very long one: Wake up at 5:00 am to get ready for the long drive to the ancient ruins of Sigiriya.

Two short but very good stops along the way. First for breakfast, at this restaurant in Kurunegala. It was clearly a restaurant for tourists but nevertheless I had one of the best meals during my stay in Sri Lanka. When asked how hot I wanted the food I said medium which was probably cheating but I don't care. Bread, a delicious fish curry, potato curry, coconut sambol, fresh papaya juice, and to top it all a cup of hot sweet tea with milk. Simple but oh so good. I was sitting outside in the cool breeze and my table had a nice view of the Eel Rock (Kurunegala has seven animal rocks, naturally shaped of course.)

The other stop was in Dambulla which single most popular attraction is an ancient cave temple with over one hundred Buddha statues dating back to the 1st century BC.

Dambulla was on the news not too long ago. Last February a girl with links to the LTTE got on a bus on its way to Anuradhapura. She got off a few stops later but not before setting the timer to the bomb left underneath her seat. 20 people killed, 50 injured. I saw it on the news when I was in Brazil last summer and remember thinking that if that kind of thing went on I would have to cancel my trip to Sri Lanka. I am glad I didn't.

On to Sigiriya. Fabulous place. The story goes like this.

Around the year 500 BC there was this evil prince who for some reason or another got annoyed with his old man (the king) and killed him. His brother didn't like it and wanted revenge but the evil prince (who was now king) won the fight and the brother fled to India. The evil king didn't feel safe though because he knew his brother would soon come back to get him.

He then found the perfect location for a new fortress/palace where enemies could be spotted from miles away. The evil king proved himself to be quite the visionary. The palace and the fortress around it were build during seven years by 12,000 slaves and it an impressive display of engineering, stuff that gets you thinking "How on Earth did they...?" It was also an amazing display of about 500 frescos of beautiful ladies (the king's personal harem) painted in the many caves around the fortress.

Anyways, after a few years the brother did come and the evil king ended up committing suicide in the battlefield. What a way to go. The brother then became king and everyone lived happily ever after. Except for the paintings, that is. The palace was given away to monks who used the place for meditation and the paintings of lovely ladies were too much of a distraction so they decided to destroy them. Just like that. Only about 20 paintings are left but they are so worth the trip.

After that it was time to go to Kandy and get some sleep!

Travel Journal #13: Tourism

As a result of the ongoing civil war tourism in Sri Lanka has been way down. People are afraid (as I was until I did some in depth research) to travel to a country where bombs are exploding on a monthly basis. While it's nice not having hordes of tourists around, on the other hand the country's economy is taking a big hit.

The situation is heartbreaking. Hundreds of thousands of people in Sri Lanka depend on tourism. It is clear in faces of tour guides, restaurant and hotel staff that lately they have been bringing less food to the table. When asked they all are quick to say that tourism isn't what it used to be. I certainly didn't see as many foreigners around as I expected.

Sigiriya, which is supposed to be a major destination, was deserted. I was the only foreigner the whole two hours I was there. The guide who walked me through the ruins (who coincidentally enough is called Sasanka) said he used to climb the Sigiriya rock at least once every day but now he only gets to do it a couple of times a week. Sasanka is 25 years old and this is his full time job. He runs guided tours of Sigiriya in Sinhalese, English, German, French, and Italian. Each tour earns him a tip of around US$5. He has a girlfriend in Kandy about 45km away, and is saving up to get married.

At the end of the Sigiriya tour on the way to the car park there are lots of stands selling refreshments and all sorts of souvenirs from postcards to wooden elephants the size of a large dog. When I was there out of about 15 stalls, only three were open.

The situation isn't much better elsewhere. The beaches of Hikkaduwa and Unawatuna, once popular destinations with foreign tourists, reminded me of Brazilian beaches in winter. The Dutch Fort in Galle was also pretty much deserted apart from local couples, beggars, and the odd German tourist.

From what I could tell the people in Sri Lanka have great hope in the current president. They believe the war will be over soon and once the LTTE is defeated in the north of the country things will start to go back to normal.

Travel Journal #12 (11 May): Home Coming

Tonight was Bhagya and Sasanka's home coming at a fancy hotel south of Colombo. Not so many rituals this time, mostly an occasion to celebrate the return of the newlyweds.

It was great seeing the couple's friends and family again after touring the south by myself for three days. I just now realised that it's been just over a week that I met this crowd but I already feel at home with them.

Apart from one of Sasanka's friends drinking too much and spoiling a bit of the fun (is there anything worse than a huge man annoyingly drunk and out of control on the dance floor?) the party was still awesome. I hung out with the kids again. Dishal told me everyone was calling me sudda (white man) which cracked me up and strangely enough got me feeling very happy. Kulanga asked me whether Andre was really my name. Apparently there's this Sinhala folklore character called Andere who was a bit of a clown. So Andere is pretty much a synonym for joker. He ended up believing Andre was my realy name once I produced my drivers license.

It's now 2 AM and I need to go to sleep because the driver is picking me up at 6 o'clock to start another tour, this time around Sri Lanka's cultural triangle (at least most of it anyways): Sigiriya, Dambulla, and Kandy. Mostly I will be visiting ancient ruins and temples. How about that for playing it down haha. Nah really it's supposed to be great. Plus, on the way back to Colombo I am stopping at the Elephant Orphanage in Pinawella which I am really looking forward to.

Very tired now. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Travel Journal #11 (10 May): Dutch Fort

I spent the day today visiting Galle and Unawatuna.

Galle is the main town in the southwest. It is every little bit as crazy as Colombo, but of course not nearly as big. Tourists come to Galle to visit the fort. The Portuguese were the first European nation to set foot in Sri Lanka in 1505 (only five years after they arrived in Brazil) and they arrived in Galle. One of the first things they did was build a fort around the city to protect the colony but apparently it wasn't a very good one because the Dutch managed to break in and kick the Portuguese out in 1658. Because of a lot of construction was done by the Dutch there are hardly any sections of the original Portuguese fort left. After they took over the island the British only carried out minor constructions so the fort is known today as the Dutch Fort. Nevertheless it still reminds me of the one in Praia do Forte in Florianópolis, also built by the Portuguese around the same time. The one in Galle is much bigger but it is in much worse shape. Extensive restoration work funded by the Dutch government is currently being carried out.

To an extent the Dutch Fort spared Galle from the tsunami devastation. The destruction in Galle isn't nearly as noticeable as in nearby areas. While the city was still flooded, thanks to the fort the waves lost much of their power and the water "leaked in" the city rather than as an actual wave.

The outside fort walls are a bit of a deserted area but they have amazing views. All along the walls you see young couples sitting on benches timidly holding hands and trying to hide behind an umbrella as someone walks by. In Sri Lanka this kind of public displays of intimacy are not only frowned upon but are also against the law.

Unawatuna has the best beach I've seen all trip. It's a very picturesque stretch of soft sand surrounded by coconut trees, with a Buddhist temple on one end and lots of pretty little restaurants right on the sand.

I had lunch at one of them (jumbo prawns, a must have in this part of the country) and later found out the place was run by Gary, a bloke from London. He wanted to run away from England and decided to come to Sri Lanka because it is one of those places "you hear a lot about." He came to Galle put his CV out and in two weeks he had a job as the restaurant chef and manager. He's been living here for the past six months, is learning Sinhala, and says he will leave whenever he feels like going somewhere else.

I also made a point of visiting the temple at the end of the beach. The temple itself is only okay but there are fantastic views from the shrine on the top of the hill, Unawatuna to one side, and the Galle harbour to the other. And there were monkeys there. Apparently monkeys love Buddhist temples as they think it's some sort of playground. Temples are very quiet, the monks tolerate the monkeys (no pun intended -- I promise) and the visitors give them food. I love monkeys because they seem as intrigued by you as you are by them which makes you wonder whether we are really as smart as we think we are. And also because they're cute.

Travel Journal #10: Tsunami

For most of the world the Boxing Day tsunami is slowly becoming a distant memory. Not in Sri Lanka. The country was badly hit by the waves and 35,000 people in the country were killed.

More than three years later the devastation caused by the tsunami is still very much present in the southwest of the country. There are still lots of debris along Galle Road (the main stretch of road following the coast linking Colombo and Galle.) Restoration is still being carried out in several areas but in some of them there isn't much to restore. Buildings destroyed by the tsunami can be seen everywhere along the coast, some of which are still inhabited.

Many countries have sent aid to Sri Lanka to help with the reconstruction. Several plaques can be seen next to reconstructed buildings and temples thanking foreign governments for funding the works.

Everybody around here seem to have lost someone on 26 December 2004, they all have their own tsunami stories to tell. I heard stories from some of those people. According to them the following is what happened.

When the tsunami wave was reaching Sri Lanka not much was noticed apart from an unusually high tide. In some areas, water covered Galle Road and reached the front step of houses closet to the beach. The water then suddenly receded about 1.5 km into the sea; the beaches were simply left without water. Fish were flapping their bodies in the empty ocean. It was the tsunami waves pushing everything towards India.

No one had never seen an empty ocean. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Large numbers of people walked to the beach to try and understand what was going on. A train on its way south from Colombo stopped on its tracks around Peralyia, a small fishing village about 20km north of Hikkaduwa. Some left the train and made their way to the beach to watch the unusual phenomenon. This lasted for about 15 minutes, just enough time for the tsunami waves to hit the southeast coast of India and come back.

It was then that people in Peralyia saw a huge wave coming. They ran for shelter in houses and trees. The lucky ones managed to get on rooftop of buildings. But most headed for the train. The wave hit and with it took some trees, most houses, and the train. When it receded a second time it dragged into the sea all but three train wagons. 1,519 people died in Peralyia, including 1,270 who were in the train.

On the way here I stopped at the tsunami memorial, built close to where the train had stopped. My tour guide was telling me he got called in to the tsunami afflicted area to help the survivors and the aid workers two days after the tragedy. He saw bodies and dead fish everywhere, some of them being devoured by stray dogs.

The debris and half demolished buildings seen all over the southwest coast are a haunting sight, impossible to go unnoticed and not easy to forget. They are a constant reminder of the tragedy (another one) the people of Sri Lanka had to endure that day.

Travel Journal #9 (9 May): Sea Turtles

Yesterday I started my tour along the southwest coast. Nothing is very far away from anything else in Sri Lanka but traveling is very slow regardless of how you do it. The speed limit on the main road along the coast is usually only 50km/h and given the number of people, tuk-tuks, cows, and bus drivers around you would have to be out of your mind to go above that.

On the way to Hikkaduwa from Colombo we stopped at a hatchery for sea turtles. Sri Lanka is home to five of the seven known species of sea turtles and as in most of the world there are not many of them left around these parts. The thing is, the turtles lay their eggs on the beach (hundreds at a time) and go back into the sea never to see their babies. They already have a low survival rate as it was but in Sri Lanka the eggs were being snatched from the beach before they hatched by people who would either sell them on the black market or bring them home to feed their families. The hatcheries have reversed the trend. They purchase the eggs from the collector for 7 rupees an egg, a price slightly higher than the ongoing market rate. The eggs are then buried in special sand tanks and around fifty days later when they hatch they are transferred to a water tank where they stay for two to three days when they are then released on the beach at night. With these measures sea turtles now manage to get a ten percent survival rate against one percent in the wild. The hatcheries are located right at the beach which means they were completely destroyed by the 2004 tsunami. All the turtles and a few of the staff were killed. They have started again from scratch without any help from the government and are now operating normally. I went in, had the tour, got my photo taken holding a baby turtle and at the end bought a t-shirt as a souvenir. Everybody wins.

The southwest is completely different from Colombo. Most towns are small fishing villages overcrowded with guest houses, hotels, and European tourists. The beaches are probably the most gorgeous ones I have ever seen anywhere. But don't lay your foot on them unless you are prepared to be hassled by vendors, beggars, and the infamous beach boys.

Today I decided to spend the morning chilling out by the pool at the hotel. What I really wanted to do is spend time on the beach itself. Unfortunately I only have but a few "No, thank you's" left in me and I intend to save them for the afternoon when I'll be walking around Hikkaduwa looking for some food and hopefully more good photo opportunities.

The resort is right on the beach but the area is fenced out. I am sitting about 10 meters from the beach but alas it doesn't feel the same. It's still very nice though, and probably as relaxing as it can get in sri Lanka. I have been sitting at the same spot long enough so that about five iguanas, tens of squirrels and countless crows are circling me, drawing in closer and closer in the hope they will get some food. They have really gotten used to people and especially the squirrels seem to ignore me even as I am shooing them away.

Travel Journal #8 (7 May): The Wedding

Today is the big day.

The house has been packed since yesterday. Relatives are coming and going all the time and I have long given up trying to keep track of everyone's names. Some of Sasanka's family came from other parts of the country and they needed to take his room so he and I had to bunk together in the guest bedroom. He needed a good night sleep but tat didn't go so well because we ended up chatting until late at night about bhuddism and the wonders of married life.

From the moment Sasanka woke up this morning until the time he and Bhagya drove off as newlyweds at around midnight, all his actions were rigorously timed. Both to ensure that everything went smoothly throughout the day and also because there are auspicious times for doing certain things such as leaving the house, groom and bride entrance, signing the papers, etc. This goes as far as to determine the dates for the wedding and the home coming. It's something to do with calculations done on Sasanka's and Bhagya's Buddhist horoscope (I am not going to pretend to know what I am talking about here, so google it if you are really interested. I will do so myself once I am back in Auckland but an extensive Google research is a luxury my short stay in Sri Lanka does not allow the time for.)

I joined Sasanka and the groomsmen to the studio where some photos were going to be taken. There we were joined by the bride, the bridesmaids, and a few other relatives. It was quite an experience sitting in a waiting room of about 25 m2 with 20 other people, most impeccably dressed up, running around and bumping into each other to finish up the last touches before the photo shoot. I felt like I was in a Bollywood studio.

The couple then headed to the hotel where the wedding was taking place for another photo shoot. I took some of my own photos but I had a feeling I was getting in the way of the photographers so I just decided to wander around the hotel instead. And what a hotel it was. I am sure it wasn't short of stars. I stopped for a quick snack at the cafe to review the photos taken during the day and do some people watching. Mainly foreigners, most of the locals I saw were hotel staff. I ordered a chili prawn pie and an iced coffee. yum.

By the time I went back the guests had already started to arrive. In a matter of minutes the room was full and it was time for the wedding to begin. Sasanka came in first, followed by his family and groomsmen. They were all greeted by the bride's guests on arrival as if being welcomed into the community. Once all the groom's crowd were in it was time for the bride to be brought in by her family and bridesmaids so she and the groom could finally "meet". Bhagya looked stunning in her wedding dress. Actually both of them did. And very happy: throughout the ceremony I could see them exchanging looks, smiles, winks, and kisses at a distance. Isn't life beautiful?

The ceremony went on into a series of rituals which I will not try to describe here for lack of knowledge and space on the page. Most of them involved receiving blessings from relatives and symbolic acts to bring prosperity, such as the boiling of milk. This was followed by dinner with three different kinds of rice, three or four curry dishes, and some veggies and salads (which looked and tasted very much western), followed by deliciously sweet deserts and fruits.

Then it was time for the baila, a Sri Lankan style of music that to my untrained western ears sounds much like a combination of folk Portuguese/Italian music common in countryside Brazil and some Indian type music. I had already "experienced" the baila at Bhagya's sister's home coming (yes, there were two weddings, keep up will ya.) so I wasn't surprised to see a huge crowd immediately going up to the dance floor and start dancing away. The whole baila dancing thing has a really happy feel to it and it just makes you want to dance along. So I did! But maybe I overdid it a little: I later found out that everyone thought I was drunk!

Two boys called Dilshan (age 15) and Kulanga (11), both Bhagya's cousins, seem to have taken an interest in me ever since I met them a few days ago. They seem fascinated about this tall stranger of fair skin and poor eating skills. Both of them are still learning English so they are rather shy when it comes to speaking but are heaps of fun to be around and have kept me company throughout the party. By the end of the ceremony Kulanga came up to me and asked "Can I see you again?" Was that cute or what? I told him yeah of course bro, I'll be at home coming.

I feel quite privileged to be here and witness all the preparations leading up to the wedding. I could have come to Sri Lanka and done the usual touristy things: stay in a fancy hotel and chill out by the swimming pool, take city tours in air conditioned coaches, hang out with other tourists. And I would have gone home without really knowing Sri Lanka. I don't think many tourists to this country can say that they have experienced first hand a traditional Sinhala wedding.

Tomorrow I am leaving Colombo for the first time since I arrived to explore the southwest coast of the country. The beaches of Hikkaduwa, Unawatuna, and Mirissa, the turtle hatchery in Kosgoda, and the Dutch fort in Galle are the main destinations in my three day trip. I will welcome some "me" time relaxing on the beach, away from the hectic pre-wedding routine in the impossibly crazy metropolis that is Colombo.

I will be back for home coming. And I can hardly wait to do the baila again.

Travel Journal #7: Eating

Sri Lankan cuisine is the ultimate finger food. That's because you eat it with your fingers! My opinion is that it doesn't taste as good if you use cutlery, it's like drinking wine out of a paper cup.

Eating with your hands is harder than it looks. They have a particular way of handling the food with their fingers which I'm yet to master. It's all about mixing the right amounts of each dish on the plate so it's the ideal consistency to grab it with the tip of your fingers and put it in your mouth. I thought it would come naturally to me but it didn't: I'm sure I look very clumsy doing it. But I must say it feels really good, it's quite liberating. I asked Dishal, one of Bhagya's cousins, whether he thought it was easier using the fingers or a fork. "My fingers of course" he replied with no hesitation. I beg to disagree! It IS harder. But it sure is more fun!

I don't think the average Sri Lankan home keeps lots of forks and knives around. When food is served only the food dishes and empty plates are at the table. All restaurants have a sink close by where you can wash your hands before and after eating. But if you must use a fork I am sure any place would be able to provide one. I went to a fancier restaurant where cutlery was already at the table. You would also use it in places like food courts and weddings where it's not really practical having hundreds of people wanting to wash their hands at the same time.

Travel Journal #6 (5 May): Alone in the City

Today was my first day by myself in Colombo and I was quite excited about it. Sasanka had weddings preparations to tend to so he dropped me off somewhere along Galle Road and I was on my own.

What a difference it makes not having a local close by. People approach lots more, for better or for worse. School kids smiling and waving at me, people stopping me out of the blue and asking me questions like were I am from, how long I will be staying around, do I smoke (???)

But I did also get heaps of tuk-tuk drivers harassing me to take me on city tours, shops, or back to my hotel (I lied to them all and said I was staying close by and would just walk.) Most would give up after a simple "no, thank you" but some are quite persistent and I even had a couple of guys posing as cops and trying to rip me off big time. I won't go into details here but suffice to say that while they didn't manage to get any money out of me things did turn a bit nasty. I was a bit shaken by it all so instead of taking a tuk-tuk home like I had planned I decided to call Sasanka and ask him to pick me up.

When we arrived the house was packed with relatives, mostly people I remembered meeting at the home coming a few days ago. They all came to work on some last minute details for the wedding. We all had dinner (no curries this time, mostly breads, rolls, sandwiches, and papaya, banana and pineapple for dessert) and then it was time to get to work and package the cakes. I'll explain. All guests at the wedding and at home coming get a little wedding cake nicely packaged in a bag or a box. I tried it a few days ago, it is delicious and very rich. Having 600 guests (300 for the wedding, 300 for home coming) means you need to idividually package 600 cakes so I rolled up my sleves and helped them although I kept thinking how nice it would be to have one of those babies as I was handling them. The boxes are usually purchased in specialised shops but in this case Sasanka's father Mahasen, who is a bit of an artist, handcrafted each of the 600 boxes himself! It was awesome spending time with Sasanka's family and helping them with the work, it made me feel like I was part of the whole thing.

Then they all went on to discuss exact timings for each activity during the ceremony. All in Sinhalese of course, which alas isn't my forte so I decided to be anti-social and come up here to write these notes.

All in all it was an interesting day with a very nice ending. A few notes to self:

1. Never get in a tuk-tuk without agreeing on a price first. You read this everywhere but never give it the importance it deserves.
2. When you don't know the place, never trust what other people tell you on the streets especially if they are the ones approching you.
3. It's best to be rude and cut people off at first if you smell something fishy rather than trying to be nice and getting yourself into trouble later!

Travel Journal #5 (4 May): Sunset

Yesterday we visited Sasanka's uncle's home in Wadduwa, about 30 minutes south of Colombo. It is much quieter than the city and the roads are better as it's the start of the area most visited by tourists: the beaches south of Colombo. I will be heading there next Thursday, the day after the wedding.

On the way there Sasanka made his father stop at a fruit and vege stand by the road and buy some cassava (or manyokka as it is knwon here, mandioca in Brazil) because I had told him it was very popular back home but really hard to find in New Zealand. His mom is going to cook some of it today. Mandioca Sri Lankan style, I can't wait!

I realise the afternoon was going to be a bit of a family reunion as more and more people started to arrive and I was being introduced to everyone as "Sasanka's boss in New Zealand." Can you believe that? It makes it seem like I was sent here by the company or something. Actually, Gihanta (Sasanka's friend who I met at the airport) did mention to me that from what Sasanka had told him he was expecting to meet a balding 40 year old. I'll get back at you for that, Sasa, you just wait and see.

But I digress. The entire evening was very pleasant and everyone was really nice to me. We all went for a swim in the new pool (one of those infinity type pools, very impressive) which overlooks a paddy field surrounded by coconut trees. We were there for quite a while and got to watch the sun setting over the paddy field while cooling down in the pool. Life doesn't get much better than that I don't think!

Afterwards we had some more tea and then dinner which was very very spicy and very very hot. As I was eating several people came over and asked me whether I wanted some water. I guess they must have seen I was struggling. But they were all saying how they found it hot themselves and that made me feel quite proud of myself. Afterwards Manju (Sasanka's brother-in-law) was telling me everyone was talking about how impressive it was that I had survived the meal hahaha.

The evening reminded me of family reunions in Brazil: lots of people, close and distant relatives, lots of sitting around talking, and lots of food. Except that in Brazil everyone would be drinking beer and eating churrasco and being very loud.

Travel Journal #4: Foreigners

Foreigners get treated with the utmost respect in Sri Lanka. In the two days I have been in the country I have only seen a handful of foreigners (not including in fancy hotels, it seems that's where all the whites hang out!) While I do get lots of curious looks and the odd look-at-that-guy whisper as I walk around the city, I can see that it's by no means disrespectful (which almost certainly would be the case had it happened in Brazil.)

Apart from the fact that tourism is one of the main sources of income for Sri Lankans, having a fair skin is also highly regarded around here and they do try to be extra nice to you which makes you feel special. And I am taller than any person I have seen here which probably also helps!

But all this may also be due to the fact that thus far I have only been involved with doing day to day things like running chores, shopping, and going out to eat with the locals so I have yet to go to any of the places where tourists usually hang out. To me this is what travelling should be all about: living the life as locals do. If only I had a good friend in every part of the world!

Travel Journal #3 (3 May): Home Coming

I just tried a local chocolate brand called Kandos that Sasanka and Isuru bought for me yesterday but weather is so hot that when I opened it almost all of it had melted. It was very nice, melted and all.

Today is Sunday. I am sitting at the verandah outside my bedroom writing these notes on a laptop and enjoying the cool breeze and the soothing sound of coconut tree leaves rustling against each other. There is a far, faint sound of tuk-tuks crossing the main road a few meters away.

Last night was Ruchira's and Kushil's home coming. Home coming takes place a few days after the wedding. It marks the moment when the bride returns from going away after the wedding. It's when the groom finally brings the bride (along with her friends and family) to be introduced to his own friends and family. As we were on the bride's side we waited outside until all the groom's guests arrived and were waiting for us to enter. There was a brief ritual with some big guys singing and playing the drums (which faintly reminded me of similar rituals in the Brazilian northeast) and then we walked into the dining room where all the groom's guests were there to greet us.

After that the celebration went on much in the way of conventional western weddings. The bride and the groom spent hours posing for photos with all the guests while people sat at their tables, talked, and drinked. This was going to be my fourth meal in Sri Lanka and my stomach (used to having spicy food no more than once a week) was already begging me for some lightly spiced (some would even say bland) cuisine. I was pleased to see that dinner wasn't too far from what we have in western weddings. While I could have gone the "hot path" had I wanted to, this time I stuck with salad, oven baked pasta, rice, cooked fish, and battered prawns. All very tasty and just what my body was crying for but I promised to myself that from that point on I would try and stick to Sri Lankan food.

The party went on with some live music that even though was sang in Sinhalese it strangely resembled very traditional European (Portuguese/Italian) music we sometimes have at Brazilian weddings and other dinner parties. I had heard previously that Sri Lankan and Indian people were big on music and dancing. But I was still a little surprised when everyone at the table stood up at once and headed to the dance floor. I couldn't be the only one left at the table, could I! So I joined in. Me on a dance floor, of all people. Suddenly about half the guests joined us plus the bride and groom on the dance floor, in what became a big dancing celebration where people of all ages were happily dancing to and interpreting the music Sri Lankans call baila (I wage money that all Portuguese speaking readers have a smile on their faces right now) which to my untrained western ears sounded much like a mix of European and Indian music. Maybe it was the fact that I was in a strange land amongst people I didn't know but the whole dancing affair had a really good vibe to it and I could see that people were really happy and and enjoying themselves. I could tell how intimate they all were with each other and that the entire crowd was a big, close family. Westerns certainly have a thing or two to learn from Sri Lankans about family.

The last ritual of the night had the bride's parents giving her away to the groom's care, and his parents welcoming her into the new family. It was all conducted with extreme cordiality, respect and such beauty that to me it was a bit of an emotional moment (which was quite unexpected since I didn't really know the bride, the groom, or their parents!)

Travel Journal #2 (3 May): Colombo

Traffic in Colombo is indeed chaotic. Actually, scratch that. All of Colombo is chaotic. And that's saying a lot coming from a Brazilian. My plan before arriving here was to hire a car and drive around myself but after what I've seen today I think I'll move that from my Things To Do list to my What, Are You Crazy?! list.

I must say though that Sasanka handles himself in Colombo traffic admirably. I can't help but laugh at some of the scenes I witness and at drivers' ability to dodge incoming traffic. And when I say incoming traffic I mean it's coming from every possible direction.

This morning I had a long chat and some tea (again, very hot and very sweet) with Sasanka's family while we were waiting for everyone to wake up for breakfast. I was one of the first ones up, bame jet lag. Breakfast was nothing like any breakfast I have ever had: kiri bath (rice cooked with coconut milk and then cut in blocks) with some onion and chili salsa and the ubiquitous coconut sambol (grated coconut with chili and lime -- I think.)

Upon arrival I was told we had a party to go to the following night. It's Ruchira's and Kushil's home coming. Ruchira is Bhagya's sister. Bhagya is Sasanka's soon to be wife (I'm only getting started, describing a Sri Lankan family is never an easy task for westerns.) That meant I needed a suit, and I didn't have one because I had decided I would hire one in Sri Lanka instead of bringing my suit all the way from New Zealand.

Apart from looking for a suit I tagged along with Sasanka and Isuru (Bhagya's brother) as they had to run some errands around town, including trying out some of their own tailored made clothes for the wedding. We had lunch and did some window shopping at a mall downtown Colombo, but not before having our car searched for explosives when entering the carpark. This happens when you have bomb killings every other month.

Surreal experience at the mall. There was this woman walking with her three little children (the eldest couldn't have been older than 8 or 9) and as they walked past us all three children were staring at me with eyes wide open and kept doing so for quite some time as if to say "What is THAT?" It cracked me up actually. I waved at them but got no reaction other than the big eyes.

I took some good advice from Sasanka and ended up buying a suit for at least a third of what it would cost in Brazil or in New Zealand. I wanted to have one made which would have been even cheaper but there wasn't time. The guy at the shop was really nice and agreed to have the trousers fixed up in just a couple of hours. Sasanka reckons they only did that because I'm a foreigner.

Travel Journal #1 (2 May): AKL-BKK-CMB

Today I left for my first ever trip to Asia. First a long and what turned out to be not-so-painful flight from Auckland to Bangkok. A brand new Airbus from Thai Airways with a personal screen and remote control for each passenger which allowed me to watch three movies throughout the entire trip made it all mush less painful.

I had 90 minutes to kill in Bangkok which seemed plenty until I saw the size of the airport. The transit area is simply huge. It took me 30 minutes to walk from the departure gate to my boarding gate doing a lot of window shopping at the duty free shops. I figured since I was in Bangkok I might as well have some Thai food before my second flight.

Lots of restaurants, delis, and cafes to choose from, many of which serving Thai food. I settled for a nice-ish one close to my boarding gate so I wouldn't risk losing the flight. I ordered Pad Thai Goong and some Thai Iced Tea which is like iced tea but with coconut milk. Very yummy indeed. I need to remember to have some more once I'm in Bangkok next week. I had heard that sugar is a key ingredient in Thai dishes (even the savoury ones) but I was still quite amused to see a tiny bowl of sugar brought along with the traditional salt and pepper. The entire meal cost me 300 baht which is about NZ$12. Given that this was at the airport I figure it will cost me about half as much in the city. A similar meal at the Auckland airport wouldn't cost less than NZ$20.

You can certainly appreciate the fact that the Bangkok airport is the main hub for exploring southeast Asia. Bangkok is after all strategically located. And the airport is, I'm told the second largest in the world. While walking through the transit area I must have heard at least a dozen different languages and saw people of every ethnicity and nationality I could think of.

The flight to Sri Lanka was an endless three hours. But then it would be, since I had been on a plane for 13 hours before that. I was amused to see that they served curry for dinner, something I had never seen before on a plane. It just goes to prove how little I know about the world around me!

Brazilians apparently are very scarce in Sri Lanka. Even the immigration officer seemed amused to see me ("Oh, you are from Brazil?") Given that tourism isn't what it used to be around here I wouldn't be surprised if I was the only Brazilian in the entire country at the moment.

Sasanka was of course late to pick me up (I wasn't surprised by this as you wouldn't be either if you knew Sasanka well.) This gave room for taxi drivers and tour guides coming up to me every 30 seconds and asking whether they could arrange a hotel or a tour around the country I felt like going "It's past midnight! I don't want to go on a blimming tour!" Oh well. Everyone is a bit edgy after a long flight. They thought I was a poor lost whitey, which I was until Sasanka and his friend Gihanta showed up.

They took me to a very simple restaurant on the way to Colombo to get some food. My first Sri Lankan meal within one hour of being in the country, not bad! We had Kottu Rotti which apparently is a very traditional dish and a must have while in Sri Lanka. Well I can tick this baby right off my list! To drink we had tea with milk, very hot and very sweet, just as they drink it here. I insisted on eating with my fingers even though the waiter brought some forks (which they probably only did because I was there.) A meal and drinks for two (Sasanka didn't eat) came out at 320 rupees which is about NZ$4. And I thought the Pad Thai was cheap. After leaving the place Gihanta told me that as he was paying the bill he was told I was the first foreigner they ever had eating there.

The traffic on the way to Colombo was very chaotic which is saying a lot because it was close to 2 AM. I am afraid to think about what it will be like during the daytime.

Off to Sri Lanka!

Sexta-feira de manhã estarei fazendo minha primeira viagem pra Ásia: tenho um casamento para ir em Colombo, no Sri Lanka. Vou aproveitar e ficar um tempo por lá pra conhecer o país, visitar templos budistas, viajar de tuk-tuk, comer curry com as mãos, andar de elefante, curtir o calor equatorial, passear pelas praias e, se der sorte, ver tartarugas-marinhas selvagens. Na volta vou parar em Bangkok, na Tailândia, por três dias e tentar mergulhar mais ainda na cultura asiática.

Dá um friozinho na barriga ir backpacking sozinho pela primeira vez, e ainda por cima em países "orientais," sem falar os idiomas locais. Mas ao mesmo tempo estou contando as horas. Há cinco anos atrás nunca teria nem passado pela minha cabeça que um dia eu estaria fazendo uma viagem dessas. Mais uma razão para ter saído do Brasil!

Bungyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Não posso chegar perto de um bungy que tenho que pular. Desta vez foi em Taupo. Estávamos passando o final de semana por lá com uns amigos da Grazi e deu na telha de pular.

Foi meio de repente, então nem deu tempo pra ter medo. Quando me dei conta já estava com os pés amarrados na beirada da cabine, 50 metros entre eu e o rio. Foi aí que deu o frio na barriga e a idéia de voltar atrás não parecia assim tão vergonhosa.

Mas aí já era. Só tinha uma saída dali e era pelo barquinho amarelo me esperando lá embaixo para literalmente me rebocar até a margem.

1... 2... 3... bungyyyyyyyyyyy! :)

Immigration

This is suddenly a hot issue in New Zealand again after another shit for brains politician desperate for votes made some comments about mini-Chinas and mini-Hong Kongs being formed throughout the country. Being an immigrant myself (though often not immediately identified as one because I'm not Arab or Indian or Asian) I can't help but write my own thoughts on the matter.

I won't even mention the many comments radically against immigration for the simple reason that people who make those sort of comments usually bring nothing of value to the discussion and seem to have no real justification other than their own racist feelings. If you don't want to be living with other cultures then you should know that the 21st century is probably going to be too much for you to handle, buddy. There, I said it.

But I have also heard comments along the lines of "I have nothing against immigration as long as immigrants adapt to the local culture and don't settle in their own communities and start opening shops and changing the look of suburbs, etc."

Well a country can choose whether or not to let immigrants in, but it cannot dictate what people do once they are in. Some immigrants will adapt and slowly cut their links to the homeland. Some will refuse to immerse themselves into the local culture and will form closed communities. And then there's all the rest in between. I like to think I lean towards the former but that's really just a personal choice of trying to get as much as I can from other cultures at the cost of my own.

Ultimately people are just trying to fit in wherever they can and if isolated communities of immigrants are such a problem then maybe we should think about why is it that they are being formed in the first place. Could it be the case that immigrants are not feeling welcome so they need to turn to people of their own culture who are more likely to accept them?

What's more, what's so wrong about forming small ghettos and communities anyways? Surely New Zealanders who go abroad try to find each other and stay in touch. It gives people a sense of belonging and helps them feel at home in a strange land. In fact, all white immigrants tend to form their own communities in New Zealand as well, they are just not as noticed because a) there's probably not as many of them, and b) they're western so it's like they are "one of us".

I hardly ever hear a word about South American immigrants either. I know for a fact that there is a large Brazilian community in Auckland for instance, and it is at least as isolated as any Chinese community out there (I know some Brazilians who have lived here for years and can hardly speak any English. My opinion? It's their loss.) I wonder if they don't get noticed because their eyes and noses and skin colour look very much western so you don't get to see packs of Brazilians roaming up and down Queen St even though there are many.

Also, why is it that we never hear anyone complain about immigrants when ordering the curry of the day at the local café or when filling their supermarket trolleys with ethnic food without even realising it? Or when immigrants win us medals at the Olympics? Or when our best mate is an immigrant, or their parents are?

Just to get a little perspective, can anyone in New Zealand really consider themselves to be "locals" in the first place? After all weren't Europeans immigrants on this land not too long ago? Back then weren't Maori the locals and the European the ones who started to spread, create their own ghettos and disseminate their culture?

One could argue that citizens of developing countries are less likely to have reservations about immigration because we're the ones doing it now. But maybe it's because we have been hit by several waves of immigration for hundreds of years and we've come to appreciate it.

New Zealanders should try and realise how lucky they are to live in such a culturally diverse place and reap all the social and economic benefits that come with it. Enough with the go-back-to-where-you-came-from crap, how come I never got that?

Can you imagine how incredibly boring the world would be without the cultural mix?

This just came to me actually: is it bad that I'm more comfortable writing in English than in Portuguese?

Rainy Auckland

Summer was pretty good in Auckland, or so I am told. Too bad I was in Brazil, enjoying an even better summer haha.

Well it seems that as soon as I arrived in New Zealand things started to get ugly. The first two weeks have been alright, but this weekend has been the worst. Cold, nonstop rain, winds, the Starlight Symphony at the Auckland Domain had to be cancelled,...

And to top it all, it's Sunday afternoon and I am at work. This is what you get for not doing your hours during the week, kids!

Ok, I'm done complaining. I'll get used to it. I've done it once, I can do it again :)

On Holiday

Time is ticking fast. I am in my last week of holiday in my home town of Florianópolis, southern Brazil. Last time I was here was in early 2005 and I spent only two weeks so there wasn’t much time to chill out and just enjoy the holidays.

Well this time around things were different. I am not trying to make anyone jealous here but my days have been consisting essentially of waking up early to beat traffic, driving to the beach and staying there till noon, having lunch at the waterfront, bumming around or going shopping in the afternoon, taking the dog out for a run, and going out with friends or family at night. Go to line 1.

It’s good to be back, that’s for sure. Florianópolis, or simply Floripa as it’s often referred to, is the home of good seafood, low cost of living (by NZ standards), hot summers and late afternoon thunderstorms, crowded beaches of fine yellow sand, and a warm and friendly people. And of course (I just have to say it) pretty girls sporting very small bikinis.

But there’s also something about being back here after so long which makes me feel uneasy. For one thing, I feel stupid about asking for directions in my own home town. Or not knowing which bus to take, or even forgetting a word or two in Portuguese.

I also don’t know where home is anymore. When I am here I feel like New Zealand is home but when in Auckland I feel like Brazil is home. I suppose that means I don’t really feel like I belong in neither country anymore.

People who have left their countries say that the minute you leave you lose home forever because as a result of being away and assimilating other cultures you change in a way that the people who stayed back didn’t, and this will never allow you to feel completely at home anymore. You will always be a stranger wherever you are.

But there’s the fun side as well. Being a tourist in my own home town makes me look at things with different eyes. And go places I had never been the 25 years I lived here. It’s also fun having friends coming up and asking stuff like “So how’s life in Australia?”, or thinking that I go bungee jumping every other week because “New Zealand is the land of radical sports, right?” Because now I do after all, to South American eyes, live in a very exotic place.

So maybe I do have two homes now.