Brazil
Pantanal
When Claudia showed us to our room at the working farm in central Brazil, she said not to worry if we saw a frog dripping out of the bathroom faucet. This was apparently normal, both in the sink and in the shower drains. By day three, I felt a bit hurt—but not too hurt—that it hadn’t happened to us. It astonished our neighbors, who were popular with our amphibian friends. I did briefly see one, a tiny light brown specimen on the window sill as I took my fifth shower on our first day at the fazenda. The world’s largest wetland, even in the dry season, gets muddy and hot!
We arrived after a week spent in São Paulo, and a weekend in Rio de Janeiro. Both are cities teeming with life, art, music and dance. The Pantanal, a region in Mato Grosso do Sul, central Brazil, by comparison, was remote and quiet. Our guide said it thus: this place is a heart beating in the middle of the country, expanding during the rainy season as plants return to life, contracting during the dry season as the flourishing greenery recedes to browns. We arrived at the winter solstice — June 17–21 —the dry season, below the equator, on the border of the Tropic of Capricorn.
Our stay in a privately-owned ‘fazenda’ in Mato Grosso, where they grew many of their own vegetables and raised cattle, included all meals and guided outings — an essential aspect of introduction to this fascinating, rugged part of the world. We went on evening ‘night-spotting’ rides in an open car to look for tapirs, a plethora of birds like toucans, bright cobalt blue hyacinth macaws, parakeets and jabirus—think huge storks wearing plague masks—peccary (not a wild pigs but look like them), capybaras, giant anteaters, and elusive jaguars, which we only ever saw signs of — fresh claw gashes on a tree where they’d recently climbed, and large paw tracks on a trail. In a way I liked it better, to be hunting for the wild cat but never finding her.
By day three I was dreaming of looking out on the horizon, scanning expectantly for wildlife. Why not, I thought, adopt this attitude all the time? Indeed, you never know what wonders you might see. Even right here, where you are now.
São Paulo
It’s not fair to comment on a great, diverse city such as São Paulo when you are in my position. Todos Santos, which sits 3,000 miles away on the northern boundary of the tropical zone of Mexico, may be the closest on the continent I’ve come. Not only was that 15 years ago, but it was not what I’d call South America—though I’ve noticed opinions differ on where the distinctions between Central and South America lie.
That said, by the fourth or fifth day walking around São Paulo, I got a feel for it. It cramped my running style a bit since I was warned away from walking in lots of places due to crime. Later, Periclès, our city guide in Rio, explained: in Brazil, people say their national sport is soccer—but really, it is scaring people. Especially about Brazil.
Nonetheless, I generally abided by locals’ advice about where and where not to walk, as well as on my own internal guidance system, an instinct I’ve come to trust. If the hairs on the back of my neck go up, I direct my feet elsewhere. So far, so good.
Among the standouts in São Paulo were the Oca Museum, which looks like a spaceship; the Afro-Brasil Museum; and the MASP (though I somehow missed the historic part of this art museum. A reason to return!).
Palm trees, pencil cacti, giant bamboo, coconut trees, guava, fiddle-leaf fig, papaya, rosewoods—all street trees in São Paulo. This metropolis, the largest city in the southern Hemisphere, boasts an estimated 652,000 trees. Despite Brazilians practicing their national sport on me, I nonetheless enjoyed the foliage so much as I walked here and there (albeit, with a friend for two of the days). How lush and green this urban land!
After lunch one day, David and I sauntered with some friends to the Futebol Stadium. We noticed an outdoor area filled with families, amassed to watch a World Cup match. I was impressed by the number of public areas in both SP and Rio, where families and friends gather to hang out, play music, laugh and dance. Even in the depth of winter, the weather was warm, making outdoor communing easier.
By the end of our ten days in Brazil I felt I’d just gotten started. I already long to return and explore more, and get to know the rich, sensuous land better. Maybe take a samba class or stay at a coffee farm. This trip was the amuse-bouche of South America, and now I want the whole meal. The place works a magic difficult to articulate. I remember an acupuncture client—as I recall, she was German—who went to Brazil, then returned, announcing that she planned to buy a house and move there. The allure, for her, a summons.
As we checked out after our last night in the Pantanal, we mentioned being kept up at night by the ubiquitous scratching sounds emanating from the roof. I had assumed it came from small creatures like squirrels or birds. Not far off. Claudia thanked us for letting her know that the bat problem was not yet resolved. Glad I didn’t know that.
