Brazil, March 2011

Last year, Jenny and I decided that we had one more international trip left in us before we settle down. With two weeks in March for Spring Break, I convinced Jenny that Brazil was the place to go. It had been over 6 years since I came home, and I hadn't seen some old friends for almost 8 years. Furthermore, I was eager to participate in many of the things that were off limits to missionaries, like beaches, boat rides, and late nights.

Many of the same themes came up throughout the trip: commodities (gold, sugar, coffee, oil, and salt), sand (we were spoiled with 10 wildly different beaches throughout our trip), fruit, good food, and friendly people.

We landed in Brazil, and had exactly 22 hours in Sao Paulo. Many Sao Paulo residents live their entire lives without seeing the entire city, so Jenny and I had to hustle to see just the highlights. We made our way into town by bus, rail, and sole, and dropped our things off at our hostel, which was located just off Avenida Paulista, Sao Paulo's main boulevard. Sao Paulo's metro system was surprisingly modern and clean (a la Washington D.C.), however, the holding pens, where riders waited to board, were less than modern. Public transportation usually makes me feel like an animal being herded somewhere, but this was worse. This was like b-roll from the documentary, Food Inc.

Once we had dropped off our things, we stopped by a "lanchonette" for passion fruit smoothies and a "coxinha," a tear drop shaped, fried dough ball filled with chicken and spices, that is unique to Brazil. Next we made our way to the "Se" and the "Centro," which, together, comprise a large park and a chaotic, multi-tiered pedestrian walkway. Hawkers sold brooms, bracelets, and

tupperware; preachers demanded that Paulistanos repent; tricksters took unsuspecting gamblers in the "three cups and a ball" game; and business people hurried everywhere.

The Banespa Building (pictured below, the one picture in this entry that Jenny or I didn't take), was "Brazil's answer to the Empire State Building." Built shortly afterwards, it is about 40-45 stories tall, and offers great views of Sao Paulo. We summited the building, and enjoyed piecing the city together and seeing the hundreds of other buildings. While Sao Paulo doesn't have very many (if any) "super tall" buildings, the city apparently has the third highest concentration of tall buildings in the world (behind N.Y.C. and Hong Kong).

From the Banespa Building, Jenny and I walked through more of the Centro, passing the spectacular Municipal Theater, which was recently restored. I hadn't realized how walkable much of Sao Paulo is; the viaduct that we were on passes over another large pedestrian walkway. Apparently, these walkways and viaducts were built for the transportation of coffee, earlier on in Sao Paulo's history. Coffee barons were responsible for much of Sao Paulo's wealth and growth, as Brazil has always been one of the world's largest coffee exporters. The Municipal Theater was apparently built at the request of many of those coffee barons.From the Centro, we bussed over to the Paulista Museum, which I believe is one of Brazil's national museums. It is located near the place where Pedro I, Brazil's first emperor, declared independence from Portugal. It houses Brazilian historic paintings, and exhibits on slavery and aristocracy in Brazil in the 19th century. It is modeled after Versailles.

We climbed around the sculptures outside the museum.

After seeing the museum, we had lunch and went to the Parque Ibirapuera, Sao Paulo's large city park. Jenny and I have always enjoyed finding big parks in big cities. In Delhi, we frequently visited Lodi Gardens, here in Chicago, we regularly go to Millennium Park and the Chicago Botanic Gardens, and we enjoyed our time at Ibirapuera, where we engaged in both people-watching and swan-watching. While both species entertained, it was difficult to establish which one was more civilized. The swans meandered along in a lake. On shore, a group of tourists poked at a decomposing log.

A real highlight of Ibirapuera was the Afro-Brazilian museum, which housed high art, folk art, apparel, and various exhibits on the history of Afro-Brazilians. Unfortunately the museum didn't allow photography.

Tired and ragged, Jenny and I made our way to Avenida Paulista, where we enjoyed a little soft serve. Afterwards, we decided that we had walked enough for the day, and, in keeping with our tradition of going to at least one movie during each trip abroad, we went to The King's Speech at a mall near our hostel.

The next morning, we woke up and caught a flight to Natal. As we flew into the airport, I pointed out areas on the poorer north side of the city where I had served. They still looked exactly the same: dirt roads, white washed walls, red tile roofs, and lots of palm trees. Sao Paulo had been a little more brisk than I had expected, but Natal was plenty hot.

We rented a car and started the 200 mile drive to Mossoro, where we would stay for a couple nights. The Avis valet had pulled our car up to the curb, and hadn't explained how to put a Brazilian stick shift into reverse (which was surprisingly not very intuitive). This resulted in an embarrassing situation at a gas station en route to Mossoro, where a surprised group of attendants had to teach me how to put the car in reverse.

The drive from Natal to Mossoro alternated from rocky desert scenery to lush, tropical scenery. We drove through small towns where literally nothing seemed to be going on. Barefoot men in tank tops and shorts played dominoes at the bar in the center of town. A cat brushed up against the corner of a house. That was about it...

I was completely amazed by how much growth had occurred in Mossoro since I had left. New tall buildings were up. City parks and monuments had been erected. Most of the roads were newly paved. Grocery stores where I had shopped as a missionary now rivaled grocery stores at home. Rio Grande do Norte, the state where Mossoro and Natal are located, is Brazil's largest land-based oil producing state. Mossoro is also the capital of Brazil's salt producing region. My assumption is that, as Brazil's economy has taken off, both oil and salt have been in heavy demand, and Mossoro has reaped many of the benefits. Driving into town I saw both a Petrobras office and a Halliburton office, which I didn't remember seeing 7 years ago.

While the growth of the city was great, the growth of the church in Mossoro was perhaps more spectacular. When I was a missionary, we walked 40 minutes from our apartment, in downtown Mossoro, to our area, Bom Jardim (Good Garden). The Bom Jardim Branch was one of two units that met in a small chapel across the street from our apartment, which meant that the branch members had to walk or take the bus. When I pulled up to the old chapel, I didn't even recognize it. It had been tripled or quadrupled in size, and was now a stake center (Mossoro was a district when I was there) with thirty parking spaces and a sports area. Even more surprising (and awesome) was that the Bom Jardim Ward now had its own building that was equally as big as the stake center. Apparently, the plan is for that building to eventually become a stake center as well, with a regional institute building built on the church-owned property behind it.

Jenny and I met Alexandre at his house, and chatted with him, his sisters, and his mom. We enjoyed Guava juice and cookies, and then we joined Alexandre as he taught seminary at the Bom Jardim Ward. We were impressed by one of his new students, Pedro, who flawlessly recited his Scripture Mastery scriptures. After seminary, we played volleyball with the students. That night, Jenny and I walked around Mossoro a bit, and ate at a pizza rodizio with Alexandre and his wife, Geisa.

On Friday, we woke up early for a day at the beach. Jenny and I didn't really know what to expect, so we let Alexandre and Geisa be our guides. They showed us a great time. We started out at the market to pick up some fruit for the day. We bought pineapple, papaya, mango, oranges, bananas, a unique fruit called "pina," water, cookies, and other goods.
We drove about an hour from Mossoro, passed salt fields and salt mounds to a secluded town called Corcovao. The typical Brazilian colors were on display: green, yellow, and blue.


After climbing around the dunes, we made our way down to the beach, where we encountered a dozen or so fishing boats, waiting for the tide to come in.

Geisa and Alexandre
A guy scrubbing his boat down.
These sand dollars were everywhere.
We walked around the beach at low tide, admiring the patience of a fisherman who was straightening out his net.

My original plan was to go to the larger beach, "Areia Branca," which I had heard about as a missionary, and which came up on a handful of review boards in the U.S. Thank goodness we didn't go with my plan. After jumping in the water for a bit, Alexandre took us to a beach house on Corcovao where he and his family had previously hung out, undisturbed by the absent owners. Alexandre brought a couple of hammocks, and we threw them out on the back deck, overlooking the beach. Not a soul was around. The temperature was perfect. We drifted in and out of sleep for the next five hours, occasionally treating ourselves to some pina, a cookie, or an orange. It was the most relaxing day I can remember, without exception. Every time I woke up I had to remind myself that this was real.

At about 2:00 pm, we walked over to a little shack that housed a bar and a restaurant. No frills. I mean no running water. We ordered "food for 4." For $12 we got a plate of shrimp, a pan-fried fish (both caught that morning), a rice and bean dish, "farofa," a bowl of pasta, sweet potato, and salsa. It completely exceeded my expectations.

After lunch, we went back to the hammocks. Eventually, we went on a little walk around the rocky areas of the beach.

At night, we went looking for folks I had met as a missionary. Mossoro was the first area where I had a substantial leadership role. Coincidentally, the missionary who trained me in that role, Marcello Salazar, moved from southern Brazil to Mossoro after his mission. He and his wife live in Mossoro now, and it was great to see him. He and Alexandre work together in the stake young mens organization.
It was tough to say goodbye to Alexandre on Saturday. Hopefully we can make a Brazil trip happen again soon (2014 World Cup or 2016 Olympics?), or we can have Alexandre and Geisa up here, which would also be a blast.

From Mossoro, Jenny and I drove back to Natal, via Ceara Mirim, which was another small town where I served. We stopped in to see Irma Rita, and her son Francisco, who always generously had four hungry Elders over for lunch at least once a week.

In Natal, we found our bed and breakfast on Ponta Negra beach, which had been extremely off limits to missionaries. It didn't take long to see why. While there was behavior that wouldn't qualify as immoral (beach soccer, etc.), the general atmosphere was one of debauchery. Jenny and I were the most modest beach-goers by several yards of fabric.

Our B&B, The Red Mango (not to be confused with the American frozen yogurt franchise), was tastefully appointed, and was built around a large mango tree. I loved how there was very little sense of indoors or outdoors. It all just flowed together. It felt a little bit like the old Swiss Family Robinson tree house at Disneyland.Jenny and I had a great time walking along the beach, taking naps, and eating at churrascarias with names like "Salt and Embers," and "The Herdsman."

On Saturday night, we drove up to the north zone of the city, where I had served. I remember my first area, Cidade do Sol (City of the Sun), being lively, but a little sketchy at night, and it apparently hadn't changed. Our former house had been converted into a bar and restaurant, and when I pulled up to the curb by the ward, the members told me to bring the car inside the gate, or it would get stolen. It was fun to drive through the neighborhood in our air conditioned car, thinking about days walking down the long dirt roads, when we would have done anything for air conditioning.

It was fun to see people who had been teenagers or young adults when I had passed through the area. Many of them were now married and had kids, and they asked about friends of mine at home like Tal Wagstaff and Adam Watts, both of whom had served in that area and converted many of the current members. I realized that, with few exceptions, members vaguely remember each missionary who passes through an area. I guess this makes sense though. I couldn't tell you the names of the Elders who served in Hyde Park 8 months ago, let alone 8 years ago. There were many moments where a member would look at me and say, "yeah...I think I remember you...you were new when you came through here, right? Spendlove...that sounds familiar." It's a little different for the former missionary because each experience and each member, is so unique. You remember who taught you to say a certain word; you remember who had you over for lunch; you remember who was the ward mission leader; you remember crazy stories. For example, I easily remembered the sister who used to serve us liver for lunch. It was the second and last time I have eaten liver in my life.

Jenny and I gave the missionaries who were at the ward a ride home (one from Curitiba, one from Las Vegas), and we enjoyed getting their perspective on the mission and their different mission presidents. From there, we headed over to another former area, Nova Republilca, where we ran into another set of missionaries in the street. They were blown away when we pulled up alongside them. We went to the ward in the area and talked with the stake president and his counselors as they were coming out of a meeting. It was interesting to speak candidly with them about their views of my different mission presidents.

When Jenny and I got back to Ponta Negra, (via Natal's new shopping center) we sat on the beach and watched a group of teenagers play soccer. It's still easy to be surprised by how talented the average Brazilian teenager is with a soccer ball.

On Sunday, we woke up and had tapiocas and juice for breakfast. Next, we drove to Natal's Fort of the Wise Men, which had been used by the Dutch and Portuguese in the 16th and 17th centuries. Unfortunately we were stopped at a police checkpoint, and I was given a ticket because it's apparently against the law to drive with sandals on in Brazil. I'm still fighting this one. The ticket quickly dampered my demeanor, and the Fort was just okay at that point.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the dunes, lakes, and beach of Genipabu, stopping in at Cidade do Sol's sacrament meeting, relaxing in our B&B, and visiting the juice bar down the street. Genipabu Beach:
Jenny having some coconut water on Genipabu Beach:Monday was a day of driving. We went south from Natal to Joao Pessoa, which was the center of my mission. I spent about 9 months in and around the city, and it was fun driving through those areas. Jenny and I went through the center of town briefly and ate sub-par, overpriced Chinese food at the mall.(This is not the center of town, but it's a nice colonial area of Joao Pessoa)

Joao Pessoa was among the first cities established in Brazil (mid-1500s), and there are several beautiful cathedrals in the city. Interestingly, Joao Pessoa, while small and quiet, is frequently at the top of Brazil's "Best Place to Raise a Family" lists.

From Joao Pessoa, Jenny and I drove out, through gorgeous green countryside, to Campina Grande, which was my last area. We had a great time meeting with people there and we all went out for pizza at night. Jenny and I watched one more movie at the theater, and called it a night in our exceedingly spare hotel room.

On Tuesday, we woke up and drove straight to Olinda, which is a colonial town that has essentially become a neighborhood of Recife. Olinda is a World Heritage Site, and it deserves all the accolades it gets. Jenny and I dropped our clothes off at a laundromat that was conveniently located at the bottom of the Old Town, which covers a hillside overlooking the ocean. The coolest part about Olinda's Old Town is that it is a functioning neighborhood independent of the tourist sites. Families live their. Old people live their. Artists live their. So it feels pretty natural. I actually felt like I was just walking around parts of my area in Joao Pessoa.

After dining on fish and potatoes (and finding crepes for Jenny's lunch and my dessert), we walked through a Franciscan monastery, which had many original "Azulejos," or blue tiles, imported from Portugal in the 1500s. Jenny and I remembered, from our trip in 2009, how prominent Azulejos are in Portugal.

The view of the monastery from a nearby cathedral was pretty iconic.
I left the razor at home.

Jenny and I slept near the Recife airport on Tuesday night. Our hotel, a budget option, was a strange place. No window; the bed was in the middle of the room (i.e. not touching any walls); and there was a box that interfaced between the inside of the room and the hallway, where deliveries were made.

On Wednesday Jenny and I flew down to Rio, where we hit the ground running. We dropped our bags off at our hostel, located three blocks from Copacabana, in quasi-gated community. Next we caught a taxi to the Christ the Redeemer statue, which had gorgeous views of the city. The basalt islands poking out of the bay look like roots of a tree sticking up out of the ground every few feet.

Jenny looking out over Rio. The Sugarloaf is in the background.

We had lunch at the old school Confeiteria Colombo, which has great food, and an even better ambiance. We then walked around the center of Rio, and spotted the stylin' Municipal Theater. Jenny and I went to the National Art Museum, which was across the street. The Art Museum was actually pretty spectacular, and it housed gorgeous 19th century landscape paintings of Rio and Brazil.
We walked past an old school library and ducked in for a look:
As I recall, our dinner that night was at a lanchonette, where we had cheese bread and watermelon smoothies.

We were up early the next morning for our drive to Paraty, an old colonial town located on the coast, at the base of the mountains of Minas Gerais, about 4 hours from Rio. We had scheduled a tour of the home and gardens of Burle Marx, which was located between Rio and Paraty. After enduring some of the worst traffic I've ever seen (think eight-lane freeway turns into one lane, two way street with lights), and doing some ad hoc off-roading in our Chevy Aveo, we arrived at the Burle Marx residence 2 hours late. While they are apparently pretty strict about time here, and they only offer two tour times per day, there was one tour guide who was willing to take us around briefly. We were very grateful, and it was actually pretty serendipitous, because we were able to walk the grounds essentially alone.

Burle Marx is one of Brazil's artistic and landscaping icons. He was behind all kinds of prominent Brazilian designs, including the pattern of the Copacabana boardwalk, which now cover sidewalks throughout the country. Judging from his home, gardens, and public stuff, I would say that Burle Marx feels like a mix of Monet, Picasso, and Frank Lloyd Wright:

Jenny in front of the Burle Marx house
Burle Marx front garden
The inside of one of his rooms. The statues are all water containers.
A water lily pond in Burle Marx' yard.

After the Burle Marx home and gardens, and an obscenely massive steak at a nearby grill called "The Big Rancho," Jenny and I drove on to Paraty. I had never heard of the Costa Verde before this drive, and Jenny and I were stunned at how beautiful it was. It felt like the Big Sur meets the Amazon meets the Italian Riviera. Small fishing towns dot the coast, with two-thousand foot mountains, completely canvassed in green, crashing into the ocean. Basalt islands are scattered throughout the bay. Each turn offers a great view. (Unfortunately our camera ran out of batteries at this point in the trip.)

As I mentioned, Paraty is at the base of mountains that lead up into Minas Gerais, which is one of the largest mining states in Brazil, and the area where gold, coffee, and sugar were mined or grown. In the 1600s-1800s Paraty was a port for these products, which were taken on to Rio, and eventually the rest of Brazil and the world. Until the 1970s, Paraty was only accessible by boat, though it now feels a little like Park City or Jackson Hole. It has managed new wealth well. Middle class workers still live here, and normal kids still go to public schools. But an annual international book festival is held here, with big name participants like Toni Morrison and Salman Rushdie. Sophisticated art galleries and restaurants share space with authentic rice and bean places. It's a pretty awesome place. Jenny and I were there for Thursday and Friday night, and it was a completely different place each day. On Thursday, when we arrived, the streets were empty, and it was peaceful and quiet. By Friday night, music filled the streets, and the parking lot outside of town (no cars in town) was filled with $100,000 Mercedes from Sao Paulo and Rio.

We reserved the last room at the Vivenda Paraty Pousada, 4 months before our trip. It is rated as the top B&B in Brazil, and it did not disappoint.

The canal into town. We walked in from the Vivenda each night, about a 15 minute walk.

One of the main streets in Paraty.

Jenny, on the main street, Rua do Comercio (this was on Thursday night - very peaceful and quiet).

A church in town. There was a horse grazing on the grass in front of the church. No hitch. No rope.
One of the restaurants in town.
The interior of one of the buildings that we liked.

Jenny and I signed up for an acclaimed cooking class, thinking that we would be two of 10 or 12 students. When we arrived, we realized it was just the two of us (and the instructor's aide)! Our instructor, Yara, and her husband, Richard, were very accomplished people. In the 1970s, before they were married, Yara had discovered Paraty with a group of fisherman. At the time, the town was isolated, but charming and surrounded by gorgeous scenery. Yara bought an old warehouse in town for a small sum, and then basically forgot about it. About 10 years ago, she and Richard completely renovated the place, which was now located in the center of one of the most iconic, colonial towns in Brazil.

Yara won an Emmy award (in the U.S.) for a cooking show she had on PBS. On the show, she described the cultures behind the food she was cooking. She and Richard lived in Boston, where she and Julia Child worked closely. She had interesting insight into the Julie and Julia book and movie. We were impressed by her (our?) cooking, and we enjoyed a five course meal. Everything tasted great, from the baked hearts of palm, to the seasoned fish wrapped in banana leaves. After dinner, Richard, who had worked for DuPont and now worked as a consultant and photographer, showed us a slide show he had put together on Bryce Canyon - which was one of Yara and Richard's favorite places.

After dinner, which lasted for 4 hours, we walked back to the Vivenda, and watched movies in our room. Our B&B owner had a collection of 400 DVDs to choose from.

We woke up Friday morning to a bounteous breakfast on the porch outside our room:

Next to the pool:
After breakfast, we drove up into the mountains to take advantage of a natural rock water slide and pool (it was actually a lot more intense than it might look):

The whole place was like the Garden of Eden - lots of palm trees, clear water, and perfect temperatures.
Jenny diving into the water.
After tiring ourselves on the rock slide, we went to a nearby restaurant located on the river. The surrounding scenery was spectacular:

The bridge to the restaurant:After eating at the restaurant, we went back down to town and paid a boat captain to take us around the bay for the afternoon. The captain brought his girlfriend along, who was in town for the weekend. The captain had lived in Paraty his whole life, and he apparently never wore shoes. He showed me his foot at one point in the voyage (for good reason, which I'll go into in a bit). The foot was essentially one giant callous. I could have gone without seeing it, but it was pretty interesting.

Our boat, anchored off our own little beach. It was awesome.

While on the beach, I spotted a marine turtle in the water. I swam out to a giant rock, which I intended to climb to get a better view of the turtle. Jenny declined my invitation to swim out to the rock, and encouraged me not to do it myself. As I climbed the rock, I slipped on some seaweed, fell, and cut a one-and-a-half inch gash in my foot. It was painful. It also abbreviated our stay on the beach. I swam over to the boat, and Jenny and I were both worried that this might necessitate a hospital visit. Fortunately, our captain was ready with some medicine-man tree-bark rubbing alcohol. He showed me a bottle and said "the old people in my village swear by this." He wrapped my foot up, poured the alcohol all over it, and said everything would be sealed up by sundown. Amazingly, whatever it was that he did worked. No stitches, the bleeding stopped quickly, and we went on our way.

The alcohol (which the captain insisted that I take after I tipped him generously):
Post-gash portion of the boat ride:

Gorgeous scenery:


Coming back into Paraty as the sun sets:
We ate at a great restaurant in town on Friday night, with soothing live Brazilian music. On Saturday, after another amazing breakfast, we headed back to Rio.

After dropping our car off (don't want to be driving in the city if you don't have to), we caught a taxi to Rio's Royal Botanic Gardens. We stopped along the way at the Pena Parque, where we had lunch at a cafe that had great views of the Christ the Redeemer statue.

The Royal Botanic Gardens:

After walking through the gardens, we made our way over to Pao de Acucar (aka Sugarloaf), to watch the sunset. We took the tram from street level to the first mountain (the second, taller mountain is photographed here):
And then we took the tram from the first mountain to the second mountain (the first mountain is in the lower left-hand corner). We watched as the city became dark...
...and then became light again.

The Christ the Redeemer statue is illuminated and visible from any point in the city.The next morning, our last day in Brazil, we went to Ipanema Beach:
Next, we went to Santa Teresa, which used to be the ritzy residential part of town. The surrounding areas became impoverished, and brought Santa Teresa down a bit, but it is apparently "making a come back." It has the city's last trolley line, and we rode up the winding hills with all kinds of folks:
We stopped briefly at an old trolley car station. These trolleys used to be everywhere in Rio, and they were originally pulled by donkeys:
Santa Teresa neighborhood:
The real reason for our trip to Santa Teresa was to eat at Aprazivel, one of the best restaurants in Rio. We started out with pao de queijo (a Brazilian cheese bread). For my entree, I had an orange infused grilled fish with coconut, cashew rice and a cooked plantain. Jenny had a steak with a potato casserole, and we both shared strawberry juice. For dessert we had creme brulee that hit the spot. It was a great meal to end on.
After lunch, we went down to the center and tried to get into an M.C. Escher exhibit at one of the art museums. Unfortunately, the line was 3 hours long, and we didn't have that kind of time or patience. We went to the Brazilian History Museum, which had amazing artifacts, including face and body decorations from natives of the Amazons; life-sized diagrams of Rio's streets circa 1900, and descriptions of political movements from Pedro II to communism to anti-war protests. The museum had rooms full of carriages, and a large open courtyard full of canons. This was one my attempts to get a "thought provoking" photo. Originally, the girl was staring straight into the cannon, but I thought this somehow made a better photo.

The best part about the trip for me, was connecting with Brazil on a level beyond missionary work. I feel like my relationship with the country became a lot deeper just by reconnecting with people as a friend, and by experiencing more of Brazil's charms. I'm convinced that Jenny had a great time as well.