Being the Adventures of Albertus Pinguinus Lacinus

Bethany came to visit for a few days, and for a few days I didn't have to feel so alone or stay quiet. (Bethany is a good listener. I had many, many things to share.)

We split our time between Curitiba and Florianópolis, which warrants a longer post to come. Thanksgiving was in Florianópolis with Chris, a friend from Rio - who now lives in Porto Alegre but is moving northward soon - and at a local bar for chicken, beans, rice, salad, and farofa.

For now, some pictures of Albert, the intrepid world traveler. For example, here's Albert in Defence Colony, Delhi, India. Albert is Bethany's companion for the moments that I'm not around. He was born in a toy store on College Avenue in Berkeley back in 2007, though how he got there from the Antarctica has never been fully explained.

In Curitiba, Albert accompanied us on a visit to the Oscar Neiermeyer Museum, which is named for and was built by the famous architect. I had passed the museum earlier on a trip to interview the head of the state sanitation company board, who has a fantastic office in a ritzy neighborhood that reminds one of Torrance, CA. We took the same bus route, transferring for free through a system of tube-shaped stations. The focus of the museum is contemporary art, but it didn't appear when we got there that the exhibitions warranted the entry fee. It was much more interesting to watch the crowds of college kids, families, teenagers, couples, dog walkers, and tightrope walkers that lounged around the museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon.





The Museum closed at six, but the sun is now setting much later this far South, so we walked back through the Centro Cívico, which is a pleasant part of town. We stopped to walk through the Passeio Público, which houses a zoo-in-miniature. This public zoo, located in the center of town with free admission and cool shade, is one of the luxuries that the city of Curitiba offers its residents. There is another, larger, zoo somewhere else in town.

However, recalling Hobbes's advice to Calvin that one might as well visit a prison after visiting a zoo, we had an angry penguin on our hands.

Albert and I know why the caged bird sings.


The pigeons and cranes that flew freely about the park did seem to taunt the caged exotic parrots and toucans.

The next day we visited the Jardim Botânico (Botanical Garden) of the city, which was nice but lacked two things: better labeling for the plants, and more shade. It was a warm, sunny day, and the sun wearied us. The plant names were given in Portuguese with their Latin names below, but neither were very helpful for understanding more about the plants. At the Passeio Público, the signs for the birds listed what they ate (e.g., seeds, fruits, leaves, small animals) and had a darkened area on a map describing where they could be found. The Jardim Botânico would do better to add something like this. It is a lovely space, capped by a greenhouse that seems to be a symbol of the city. (An interviewee has corrected my assertion that the greenhouse is the symbol of the city; the stately columned facade of the Federal University is the symbol of Curitiba.)

In any case, Albert posed in front of the greenhouse.



The next day, we left for Florianópolis, a town of 700,000 that is the capital of the state of Santa Catarina. Santa Catarina (SC) is wedged between the breadbasket state of Paraná (PR) and the southernmost, cattle-raising state of Rio Grande do Sul (RS). It features the most luscious coastline this side of Rio de Janeiro.

The state and city also have a history of settlement by German, Italian, and Eastern European immigrants, which is reflected in local architecture. On Thanksgiving Day, we all took turns sitting on the steps of the metropolitan cathedral. Identifying various influences on the cathedral is left as an exercise for the reader.





We stayed in Florianópolis until Saturday, and returned to Curitiba for Bethany's flight out. After a few relaxing days of sun, sand, and relaxation, we both have to return to work. Albert asked for a last photo with Curitiba's fascinating and fun tube bus stations, which are located at multiple points around town. The tube system and the interconnection of bus lines around five central trunk lines were the pioneering work of urbanist Jaime Lerner when he was mayor here. I hope to interview him this week about his two terms as governor. See him talk about urban design and Curitiba here (in English).

Albert is depicted here with the bus tube at the airport, right before he caught his flight to São Paulo, Houston, and finally San Francisco as a stowaway in Bethany's luggage. Traveling as a stowaway comes with a qualified endorsement; the space is tight but the price can't be beat.




Postscript: Photos of Albert at the cathedral were taken exactly two years after he was denied entry to the Taj Mahal.

Back in the South: Curitiba, Paraná

"Curitiba is not particularly sophisticated or sexy, but its residents enjoy a quality of life unparalleled in other parts of the country.... It is not a beautiful city," states Lonely Planet.

They're not far from the mark; it doesn't shine or spread out in grand vistas any more than do the Brazilian cities I've visited. A part of me had hoped for a shiny, clean American-style city, but those expectations were probably unrealistic. The streets are calm and the bus stations are funky, but it's like any other major Brazilian city on a Sunday. Everything is closed. Metal grating over storefronts is not terribly attractive.

I've returned to the richer, more industrialized part of Brazil. The Center-West, which includes Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso do Sul, does have some large landholdings and agrobusiness families. I mean to say that there are rich people and developed areas in the Center-West. This state is also agricultural and is the breadbasket of Brazil; roughly 25% of the grains produced in Brazil are grown in Paraná. Here in the South, defined as Paraná, Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul, however, there's a larger middle class and more development. There is also a more diverse range of immigrant communities - I'm meeting people with Polish and other Eastern European last names this week. I don't stand out as much when I walk down the street.

(At the city council building in Cuiabá, instead of the usual "Você é de onde?" ("You're from where?") question, I got the question "Você é gringo de onde?" ("You're a gringo from where?"). I laughed, and asked, "Is it that obvious?" Yes, yes it is. In addition, often people will say "You speak Portuguese so well!" to be polite and friendly. This is obviously bullshit; I don't. However, at the Infrastructure Secretariat in Mato Grosso, a kind assistant was introducing me over the phone to a colleague and said in answer to a question, "Yes, well... he speaks Portuguese with an American accent." Her honesty made me laugh out loud.)

I'm overwhelmingly eager for this week to go quickly, and not only because I have a bargain hotel room with a ceiling fan instead of air conditioning. Bethany's coming to visit on Saturday. I'll admit that I'm distracted by her imminent arrival. I joked that, if I get either frustrated or overly enthusiastic in an interview, I'll ask my interviewees, "Look, could you please just ramble on about how the role of the state has changed since re-democratization for the next two hours? That will make my girlfriend arrive that much sooner."

I do plan to at least look into joining a gym. I spent my last week in Cuiabá going to a gym at night, and found it very satisfying. It made the evening pass more quickly. It certainly was better than a) writing up interview notes, which is inexplicably dull, or b) sitting in my room, reading off my computer and wondering how much time I had left in Mato Grosso. Also, I got a few pointers on lifting techniques from the staff, and the gym had a free cold water dispenser. All for five reais a visit.

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The overnight bus ride down from Rio was tranquil and pleasant. The first few miles brought back a memory from 2005 of how winding and mountainous the overland western approach to Rio de Janeiro is. We stopped at two rest areas, in Resende, RJ and in Registro, SP. In my groggy state at 3 AM, I figured out our progress by noting that the anti-smoking emblem on the glass window was in the distinctive shape of the state of São Paulo. I did manage to sleep, and arrived in an awake, if not completely completely rested, state.

Curitiba is slightly hilly, and in some ways resembles Porto Alegre. (I might use my "this city reminds me of San Francisco" line again, if warranted.) It's been raining since 5 PM, very heavily at times, which also reminds me of Rio Grande do Sul. The pedestrian walk in town is nice, and the tree-filled plazas are pleasant. I'll hold off on a final judgment until after the city comes alive tomorrow. I have a 2:30 PM interview, and the weather is sufficiently cool and pleasant such that I think I'll walk the two kilometers to the office. There are two potential problems with this idea: it will rain at least some of the time tomorrow, and the city is only shaped like a grid for five-square block sections. Multiple streets end, curve, or hit each other at odd angles. I'll have to draw a map on a slip of paper to avoid getting lost.



POSTSCRIPT: I am not making up names. Brazil and its twenty-seven states are officially divided into five regions: the South, the Southeast (including Rio de Janeiro), the Center-West, the North, and the Northeast. These administrative divisions don't denote any political power; they're used as short-hand in government documents to categorize and refer to regions with roughly similar economies, geography, and levels of development.

SECOND POSTSCRIPT: Today is November 15th, which is Republic Proclamation Day here and the namesake for major streets. Emperor Pedro II was deposed in a military coup, and the Brazilian Republic was proclaimed, on November 15, 1889. To my relief, tomorrow is not a holiday.

Invitation back to Porto Alegre

An invitation to celebrate the anniversary of certain municipalities in Rio Grande do Sul at the state Legislative Assembly. I believe this arrived because I left my personal email address on a sign-in form at the public meeting on sanitation.

The Minarets: Cuiabá, Mato Grosso

In honor of my cousin in the Australian Army who's on a mission peacekeeping in an Islamic country for the first time, I present the minarets of Cuiabá. This town has a lot of radio towers, cell phone towers, electricity towers, and towers. I attribute these numbers to the remoteness of the city and the size of the state. There are 141 municipalities in the state, spread from Amazonian jungle to Pantanal swamp to dry sandy cerrado. The capital lies roughly in the middle of it all. I guess that cell phone towers are there to relay calls from pretty remote locations. (The latest Brazilian air accident was an Air Force plane that went down northwest of here. The survivors were rescued after a native tribe alerted officials in their bi-monthly meeting with government officials. That's pretty remote.)








The last photo contains a view of the Verdão (the Big Green), the stadium that will host matches in the 2014 World Cup. There are stickers plastered all over town celebrating the arrival of the tournament to Cuiabá; there are also graffiti saying things such as "Cup = trash" or "Cup out" or "A Cup for whom?"

I can summarize my thoughts about Cuiabá in with a contrast. It is not a lovely town. It has alternated between extreme heat and uncomfortable humidity. However, the people have been wonderful, warm, open, and friendly. Despite their kindness, I'm glad to be going home to Rio de Janeiro soon.

Aesthetics don't seem to be a high matogrossense priority. Below are photos of City Hall and the Municipal Cathedral. Judge for yourself.




I don't mean to suggest that there aren't flourishes of beauty to be found. In front of City Hall is the ambition of numerous Americans: a Ten Commandments plaque! Long ago, I was shocked to notice graffiti on public monuments, specifically on the statue in front of the Congress in Buenos Aires. This phenomenon is not limited to Argentina. (The oddest graffiti below reads "Thou Shalt Not Burn Alligators.")



There's also a bust of Marechal Rondon, an intrepid explorer who was the first to string telegraph lines across the cerrado (predecessors to the radio towers) and discover the sources of numerous rivers. His life is pretty amazing, and it's justified that the nearby (even more remote) state of Rondônia is named for him.



The town is walkable, but is hillier and more hot and humid than was Campo Grande. I took two weekend walks in search of food and happened upon two of the three main shopping malls in town. This was very fortunate, because malls have three key items: food courts, air conditioning, and drinking fountains. (New lesson: when out walking, always carry an empty water bottle. It saves money and is refreshing. Also, note that airports also have those amenities.) I could sit in a food court and read without being bothered. On Sunday, I went to the mall, armed with a camera – because I was eventually going to a museum, but it was going to be closed for lunch hours – found a bookstore, found the politics section, located some books I wanted to read, found some pieces of paper in the form of deposit envelopes at a nearby Banco do Brasil ATM, and sat down to read, take notes, and photograph relevant pages for entry later. Isn’t that how everyone spends their weekend?

I later visited the third shopping mall, Shopping Pantanal, because it's right across the street from the state government/administration complex. It's the best of the three; it even has an H. Stern outlet. I spent yesterday there, after my morning interview, reading a book written by the former state Secretary of Finance and preparing for my afternoon interview. The afternoon interview was a fiasco; no one at the Secretary of Infrastructure’s office knew anyone who would be prepared to talk with me. I left empty-handed.

It was not all work and no play. I did eventually reach the zoo on Sunday afternoon. The museum was closed. The zoo’s located at the federal university in town and admission is free. (The ice cream vendors out front, however, had many, many sales.) Brazilian families and I walked freely around the complex, and the animals behaved exactly according to expectations: in the hot Mato Grosso sun, they lounged in the shade and tried to sleep.

I’ll just dump a bunch of animal photos on here. There’s no order to them. One is of a capybara up close. There are some birds. There was a concrete dinosaur, and a monkey banging a nut against concrete to break it open. Oh, and the colorful parrots are native. Always remember that Brazil has an incomprehensible amount of biodiversity.












The last picture was taken especially for Bethany.

In all, an okay town. I certainly wouldn't vacation here. I think Campo Grande is a better entry point to the Pantanal than is Cuiabá. Cuiabá is closer to the national park in Chapada. The zoo and the malls are better here; the food and weather in Campo Grande were more to my taste.

A final note: both towns have the same taste for ice cream. There seem to be ice cream shops (sorveterias) on every corner, and with good reason. As the following billboard illustrates, intense heat is best addressed via soft serve:


"Thirty years refreshing the Mato Grosso heat."

I'll be back in Rio de Janeiro in 48 hours. Thank goodness.