As I sat in front of the federal police agent’s desk awaiting her recommendation about my visa status I noticed a wooden tatu ( Aardvark origin late 18th cent.: from South African Dutch, from aarde ‘earth’ + vark ‘pig.’) I asked her where she got it and she told me she bought it from some Indians. This lightened the mood between us that was rife with sexual tension.
I explained to her that my student visa was up for expiration in the upcoming weeks and that I would like to extend the amount of time on the document. She informed me of the required documents I would need including; a letter stating my enrollment in my location of education. I had long ago burned that bridge so I inquired if my current school could provide the same certificate. She unfortunately told me it had to be the original school in which I applied through for the visa.
Plan B. I have a temporary student visa that is valid for 6 months and is about to expire. I also hold a tourist visa from my first trip to Brasil in 2005. The tourist visa is valid for 5 years with up to 6 months available every year. I asked her if I could leave the country on the temporary visa and return upon the tourist visa, thus avoiding any penalties which amount to R$8.42 per day, spent in Brazil up to 180 days. I asked her where the closest location to leave the country would be and she recommended Foz De Iguaçu . She gave me some books informing me of my rights as a foreigner in Brazil and also a website link. I asked her to write exactly what she had told me but she said she couldn't.
I asked my friends for advice as to how to leave the country and it turned out I had a student who would be going to Paraguay's border town Cidade do Leste that very weekend to buy a discounted camera and he might even be able to hook me up with a free bus ticket as his family owns a interstate bus company. "They all have faces of thieves and bandits, everyone is out to rob you, don’t take anything you wouldn't want to have stolen!" This was a splinter of the Paraguayan travel advice my roommates gave me as how to take care of myself across the border. I found this amusing, as this was very similar to the advice I had received from family and friends about traveling to Brazil. Even my Paraguayan friend only had the worst to say about her home country, "The less time you spend in Paraguay the better!" she griped. I told my co-workers about my travel plans and they all joked how I was soon to be an international traveler. It turns out Paraguay is kind of like the Delaware of Brazil, Tax Free Shopping and not much else. In fact even in Joice's hometown Feira de Santana there is a clever play on words called Feiraguay which sells imported goods from the "First State" of South America. I had no idea Brazilians liked to talk so much trash about the Paraguay but it quickly became a punchline to every joke throughout the week.
Friday afternoon I left for Foz De Iguaçu from Floripa which was a modest 14 Hour 45 minute long bus ride. I actually sat next to a Paraguayan on the bus fortunately she didn't steal my organs while I was sleeping. I woke up at the damp, dreary and lifeless bus station of Foz de Iguaçu. I realized I was a long ways away from the lush, aquamarine eyed, blonde beached island of Florianópolis. The people were noticeably unostentatious and pauperized in comparison to the gaudy, designer-clothes clad citizens of Floripa. This may sound weird but seeing more distinctively Latino faces made me feel closer to home, or at least closer to University Boulevard's version of Tegucigalpa, Langley Park.
I found the hostel, checked in, stashed my bag and left with the excursion leaving for the Argentinean side of the cataratas (falls). I explained to the driver my situation and that I would like him to take me to the border guards and I would explain my situation to them. His eyes popped open with surprise, but I quickly realized this was an unrelated ocular issue. I was accompanied in the van by two Irish gals and an Aussie from "Wisten Aaustrilha" I couldn't understand his slang much less his accent. Roddi the driver took me to the immigration police and I explained that I would like for them to stamp my visa closing out my stay as a temporary student in Brazil and that I would be returning on my tourist visa in the near future. After some jostling and clarification the guard at last stamped my passport.
As we waited for the guard to finalize the deal my newfound driver-friend from São Paulo explained to me of the region’s subversive underbelly. The tri-border area of Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina is one of the most dangerous political boundaries in the world. Millions of dollars worth of arms, drugs and money are transported across this frontier every year.
Roddi dropped us at the park, I received a discounted Brazil entrance. I translated to the other gringos in the group as they didn't speak a word of Portuguese and Roddi didn't speak any English. Translating is a lot of fun. A park guide talked us into doing a boat ride. We all went out to explore and I quickly noticed a red Maryland hat and a John Hopkins lacrosse jacket. After I inquired where the group was from it turned out they were from Ellicott City, Maryland. The National park was a labyrinth of slippery, slender metal walkways suspended throughout the myriad of rushing waterfalls. Fortunately this was the low winter season in which the park receives fewer tourists. I can't imagine suffering through the 117˚ heat perambulating behind a group of trigger-happy amateur photographers. I was speechlessly astounded by the sheer power and beauty of this natural wonder. Unlike the picture postcard image of Rio's Cristo Redentor, the cataratas splash your face, deafen your ears, throb in your chest, and immerse your eyes. We ate at a traditional Argentine churrascaria enjoying the parsley-saturated sauce that compliments their piles of meat. The live music featured tranquil instrumental versions of "Sound of Silence" and "I Just Called to Say I Love You" Complete with midi accordion accompaniment. The meal cost more than double my normal expenditures for food for an entire week. The Aussie was enthusiastic about a pepper steak the restaurant had. We digested our bloated white bellies and walked to the lower trails. I liked the colorful birds, monkeys and raccoon looking creatures that could be found in nearly every tree throughout the park. We strapped on our ponchos and took pictures that quickly doused our camera lenses from the cascading water. We found the boat ride, which was a short spin under the waterfalls leaving very few in the boat with any dry articles of clothing. As we walked to the train to see the last part of the park the sky opened up and we ran for cover. We waited for the rains to pass while drinking an overpriced and overly bitter coffee. The rains passed as did our time at the park.
Returning to the Brazilian border I went through the same process with the Brazilian Immigration only now with my tourist visa. The guards had all switched. I handed my passport to a long haired stoner looking type who looked at my tourist visa as if I had just handed him a passport from another planet. He seemed to have no understanding of the 5-year validity that the Brazilian Consulate in Washington and the Federal Police practice. Note: the Federal Police and Immigration are one in the same. The guy went and got his boss. Fortunately it wasn't the bearded tyrant my driver had warned me about earlier but he was just of a lesser toxin. He told me that this policy of crossing the border and coming back was done, over! "I'd love to help you but there's nothing I can do. "At this point my visa had already been closed out and this guy was making it seem as if my visa was no longer valid. My visa says nothing on it about 5 years of validity; I assumed its common knowledge. It's bad to assume things, especially when dealing with Immigration. So the guy wouldn't budge but he told me I had a nice face and because my visa hadn't technically expired as of yet he would let me reenter the country to go talk to the Federal Police in my respective city. I asked him if he could give me what he had told me in writing. He said he didn't have to, and that he had the right to refuse anyone to enter the country for the slightest thing even the smell of Cachaçha. ( Brazilian liquor). I didn't smell like cachaça and I had a nice face. He let me back in but with only two weeks left on my visa to go to Federal Police to plea that I had a girlfriend, or daughter or who knows what. I would have gladly paid a bribe but I'm not so sure of how to go about doing any of that.
I went back to the hostel and met some of the local color over some beers. I've forgotten how weird aimless travelers are. I met quite a few people who were taking yearlong worldwide trips hitting up all the lonely planet approved destinations. Of the weirdest people at the hostel were a French girl who insisted in speaking in Spanish and wore bright fuchsia snow pants, the kind I haven't seen since the days of two-hour delays and sleds. The other was a Brazilian guy who claimed to be raised in a German city in Brazil that only spoke that language. At least this was his explanation to the inquisitive group of incredulous Brazilians who wondered about his odd accent. He constantly boasted of his ex-fiancé, frequent trips to Deutschland, the United States and considered himself an expert on the travel habits of Brazilians. The Group wasn't a fan of his antics. I met a cool girl from São Paulo whose last name 島のサメ means "Island of Sharks" in Japanese. I quickly forgot if her name was Andrea or Fernana, the two most common Brazilian names, so I resorted to calling her Tiburão or Shark. We made plans to go see the Itaipu Hydro Electrical dam the next morning.
As I passed through the hostel lobby to get some breakfast there sprawled out across the couch was the French Girl in her bright pink snow pants. Itaipu means talking rock, derived from the Guarani Indians that described the isle that was later used to carve the dam's channel. American and Italian companies conceived the Itaipu Hydro Electrical dam project in the 1960's during Brazil's massive infrastructure boom, the type of growth that is currently enjoyed by China. Its 40x more powerful than Niagara Falls. It's currently the largest dam in the world, but the Three Gorges Dam will be knocking it off its throne once it reaches its full capacity in 2011. The Paraná riverbed was chosen because of its depth and strength. The dam is a joint effort between the governments of Paraguay and Brazil. The Dam hires equal numbers of employees from both countries. The dam provides electricity to 20% of the Brazilian population. The dam is considered one of the seven wonders of the modern world. The design was inspired by the architecture of cathedrals. I was really impressed by the size of the plant and the in-depth all-inclusive tour. They even gave you a hard hat to wear around, although I'm not sure as to its purpose. My friend Tiburão was really pushy and asked more questions than anyone on the tour group.
After the tour ended we went looking for the largest Buddhist Temple in Brazil. We ran into some friends Tiburão had made the day before and all decided to find the temple together. Foz de Iguaçu and Cidade do Leste is one of the most diverse heterogeneous regions of South America per capita. It has some of the largest Middle Eastern, Chinese, Japanese and Ukrainian populations in Brazil. According to Wikipedia the city boasts the largest Buddhist temple and the second largest Mosque outside of the Middle East. We walked down a rustic country road and through an indigent neighborhood before arriving at the Buddhist temple. We spent a good chunk of time figuring out how to create the illusion that we were indeed rubbing the belly of the gigantic yellow Buddha statue that was perched 6 feet in the air upon a red platform. The day was gorgeous as we sat on the hill overlooking the Friendship Bridge that connects Paraguay and Brazil.
Tiburão and I decided to go back to the falls because of the gloomy unphotogenic weather the previous day. The Argentinian side of the falls is much more interactive in terms of the proximity you get to the falls however, the Brazilian side is more panoramic allowing a 360˚ view including the dramatic Garganta do Diablo, (throat of the devil). As we approached the falls a rainbow appeared and eagles began to weave through its mist. Tiburão insisted that I take three pictures of her at every vista, one nice, one with her arms spread and one with her tongue out. She wanted to go to the bird park but the price was a little expensive.
We waited for the bus and I met a lovely South African girl and her courageous middle-aged mother who was visiting her as she traveled around South America. Tiburão asked if I wanted to go to the Mosque and I declined saying I had to get back to the hostel, gather my things to make sure I made my bus on time. This girl had the type of touristy drive I have seen in few other people, namely my grandparents. As I passed the various Turkish and Lebanese Kabob houses my mouth watered and I decided to eat there for dinner. I was checking the Internet for issues about my visa as I heard Tiburão's voice asking the desk attendant about something. I asked her why she wasn't at the Mosque and she said she had finally tuckered out for the day. We went to the Lebanese restaurant around the corner and got a decent meal that most likely would be used to finance some type of contraband activity. Let me explain. Apparently there a great numbers within the Middle Eastern populations of Cidade do Leste, Paraguay and Foz de Iguaçu, Brasil that speculatively support Hezbollah, Hamas, FARC and there are reports of even Al-Queda. The region is ripe for counterfeiting, money laundering, software pirating and the previously mentioned drugs and arms trade. There are over 55 banks in Cidade Do Leste alone. According to an article I read today, remittances sent back to the Middle East through the array of successful Arab-run businesses that exist in the region, are speculated to have orchestrated the Bombing of the Israeli Embassy bombing in Buenos Aires in the 1990's. I'm not claiming any of this as fact. I just think it’s an interesting complexity of the region. I did feel there was a hidden or concealed trade that lingers in the region.
I got to the bus station with plenty of time to do some tourist watching. It was embarrassing watching the pale-skinned Nordic backpackers missing all forms of communication attempted by the frustrated counter attendant at the bus station restaurant. I realized after the weekend that backpack traveling, while exhilarating is a perpetual one-night stand of traveling. I feel living in a country is a much more rewarding and fulfilling experience. I feel you learn much more about the culture of a country rather than only getting a quick artificial snapshot of the tourist attractions.
As I waited for the bus the woman asked me in a thick Manezinha (a person from Floripa) accent, if I was going to Florianopolis. I told her I was and I asked her what she was doing in Foz de Iguaçu. She was an older woman with pronounced crows feet that spread from the corners of her eyes. She told me she had been buying clothes in Paraguay to sell in Floripa every weekend for the past twenty years. I guess my Portuguese is improving because I could understand the previously impenetrable Azorean influenced dialect of the region, and they initially thought I was Argentinian. Her husband, an Italian looking fellow repeated every statement I said five times to anyone within earshot. "He's American. He's an English Teacher. He lives in Trindade" He was a Fish Salesman who had been bringing fish and shrimp to Cidade Do Leste where he has a Chinese business partner. We had been waiting for the tardy bus to arrive for about 20 minutes when she asked if I wouldn't mind taking one of the bags as if it were my own onto the bus. I asked to see the contents first and it was indeed nothing but jackets. I said it was cool if, she would give me a discount when I came to visit her. She vented over the troubles other merchants like her faced from the police trying to bring similar items from Paraguay. "We're workers! We're not dealing drugs!" She exclaimed drawing deeply from her cigarette. She explained to me that if anyone asked, the 12-15 jackets stuffed into the bag were for bought for my family. Her husband bought me two beers but in retrospect I should have bought a jacket as it is becoming colder here by the day.
I had a long bus ride to reflect on my situation. I called the Brazilian Consulate that issued my visa this morning and it turns out that my visa was indeed only a 90-day visa. While they do issue visas for 5 years, mine was not one of these so that explains why they didn’t accept the visa at the border. After my student visa expires next week I will receive a R$8.42 tax per day for 180 days which at today's abysmal exchange rate would be $920. I would not have to pay this tax until the next time I return to Brazil. However I'm not so sure how much I have to gain being an English teacher at this point. I love Florianopolis. I'm finding out about many groups and activities in the area. I have a nice routine. I'm getting some private students and my Portuguese gets better the more time I'm here. On the other hand I feel I could benefit from finding an internship that could provide me with some "real world" experience in terms of Brazil's growth as a developing economy. I've got some connections into pursuing the latter but nothing has become fruitful yet. Another option would be going to another country in South America and learning Spanish which I'm hesitant to do because its going to confuse me with my developing Portuguese. So in the spirit of the Election year (by the way is Kucinich still running?) I implore you to vote on your favorite option. And please light up the comment board, as I like hearing from my blog readers.
