When we landed at Sao Paulo's international airport, I knew we were definitely out of town. We deplaned from our aircraft and walked down steps into the night air. It was cool. All of us were quickly hoarded onto a couple of packed buses that snaked in and out of airport hangers and utility buildings. Once inside, I went one way and Raphael went another as we approached customs. The rooms were dimly lit. The airport was cheerless but the customs woman was friendly and whisked me through with ease. Raphael was pulled aside and inspected a bit longer. I think it was his cologne. He smelled better than the wench who deemed him just a little suspicious. It didn't last long and we were both united quickly.
The terminal was dusky and institutional. It looked like it had been built in the late 60s or early 70s. A dictator's daughter probably got the contract while finishing architectural school. It wasn't as cavernous as I would have suspected but buzzed with activity. After a bite to eat we nestled in at our gate which was packed with domestic fliers. I found myself looking for blonds or redheads. Their absence was apparent. This was a very brunette country. It was here that we first noticed that most all of the younger and middle aged women wore boots. For the rest of the trip, we would see more booted females than Brazilian soccer stories on TV. Whomever was supplying leather for this footwear was doing very well indeed.
Another bus ride to a smaller plane and another hour and a half to our destination. At this point we had been traveling approximately 10 hours. Luckily, the Tam aircraft we had taken from Miami was spacious and new. My back had weathered the flight. A week before we left, I'd thrown it out. I was doing well and felt little fatigue. Flying out of Sao Paulo I could see the lights of the city and its environs. Its vastness was extraordinary. 26 million people in all and the world's 4th largest city.
At approximately midnight our flight touched down in Porto Alegre. Its airport was modern and clean and bright. It put Sao Paulo's to shame. It pumped up my spirit and my energy increased.
Raphael's sister, Claudia, greeted and drove us to her place in the city. The streets were dark and there was little traffic. We wound our way through the red light district that looked deteriorated and ramshackle. They pointed out some cross dressing whores to me while we idled at a stoplight. Ahh...the local fauna.
When we arrived in Claudia's neighborhood, we found ourselves careening up a steep driveway into a parking garage. It set above a large supermarket. After parking her Fiat, we pulled our luggage down the same steep incline to the street. A half a block away was her building. She unlocked a gate and proceeded to unlock another door and then took us down a long outdoor corridor that skirted the building. Another door to unlock and then a fourth floor walk up. Raphael had to cart the bags as to preserve my healing back. We arrived at a large flat that reminded me of the place I had stayed in Buenos Aires 6 years earlier. It was the first time I would see and feel a lot of similarity between Buenos Aires and Porto Alegre.
Claudia's girlfriend, Naiara, greeted us exuberantly and we settled in. She is a bank manager by day and an accomplished actress by night. She had just done a theatre production at a famous venue a few nights prior. Then the food came....the first of a week's meals that were truly memorable. Claudia started bringing us plates of goodies and the first one was warm pine nuts from trees that grow in the southern Brazilian mountains. They were in season and delicious. They were big and you sucked them out of their shell. They had a meaty consistency and taste. The shells actually looked like dead Palmetto bug shells. No matter. I ate them until I thought I would pop. I don't recall what else we inhaled. It was all delicious. Champagne was served and we didn't get to bed until almost 3 AM! Our expanded stomachs said enough and we retired and fell away fast.
The next morning we got up and drove to Raphael and Claudia's hometown. It is a town of about 60,000 that is approximately a half hour's drive. As we passed through suburbs and industrial areas, I got my first glimpse of a slum. On the outskirts of Porto Alegre, there was extreme poverty. As an American, scenes like this always shock me. Even our worst urban areas don't compare. American Indian reservations come closest but they usually have government housing. I had seen it around South Africa and parts of Argentina. But, I am still not seasoned enough as a traveler to not be affected. Brazil is an emerging nation with a growing middle class. Hopefully one day these types of living conditions can be eradicated.
It took a while to get into the countryside. Zoning was weird. There didn't seem to be a lot. Industrial seemed seamless with a lot of housing and agricultural. As we drove, the elevation increased. Eventually urban clutter gave way to farms and cattle. A few roundish, low mountain peaks started to come into view. One of them was our destination area.
Montenegro sets in a valley with much of the city on a slope. There is a tree covered hump of a mountain that separates both sides of town. A long boulevard angles down into the community and around the peak. There on the south slope, an inclining street brought us to Raphael's parents place.
The house was a cute white, brick, bungalow with blue shutters. A gorgeous poinsettia bush graced the front gate. The house is elderly and dates back to at least the first part of the 20th century. His parents greeted us and shuffled us into the kitchen through small rooms and a hallway. We were seated in a very sunny and breezy kitchen. The windows were all open and we could see into the back patio area. There were maid's quarters where an actual maid had lived when Raphael was growing up. This is not uncommon in this part of the world.
Raphael's mother, Isabel, was very friendly and greeted me warmly. With a flurry of hands and Portuguese I was ushered to my seat as Raphael explained what she was saying. His father, Claudio, stood stoically and looked for direction from his wife. He smiled at me as if to say "I know...I know...it's a lot. You'll be fine." Suddenly a beef stroganoff was placed in front of me and its deliciousness was evident. Warm bread was passed around. Yucca was served. Isabel, Claudio and Claudia all had Brazilian beer. The warmness of the day was gliding in through the open windows. It felt very Mediterranean. The casual comfort was apparent and I felt right at home. After a very hearty meal, Raphael and I took a walk.
The town had a bustling downtown with all kinds of merchants. Lots of pharmacies were apparent along with clothing, appliance, furniture and hardware stores. Open air sandwich shops were abundant. Here and there 'botecos' sat on corners (Brazilian roadhouses.) People were friendly and the commerce of the place seemed healthy. Lots of subcompacts buzzed by us. A mushtachioed man in full gaucho gear strolled into the street. Families ate ice cream at little tables. People ran by us chattering on cell phones. There was a hubbub to the place and it was gleeful. The shops and businesses were clean and very engaged. It was nice not to see any chain stores or franchise places. Everything seemed to be independently owned like in the old days of America.
We strolled past historic homes from the late 19th century. Some had been restored and some not. One was the home where Raphael's mother had grown up. Her father had owned the most successful department store in town when she was a girl. It was a beautiful, Victorian era looking home with two stories. Some had lovely lawns and gates while others were right on the street. Women leaned out their open windows to rest and cool themselves. You could look right in some houses with their openness.
As we continued out of downtown, we entered an older neighborhood with colorful, antique structures that dated back to at least the mid 1800s. Many had the original shutters, molding and woodwork details. I am not that familiar with Brazilian architecture but I assume it was a Portuguese inspired design. It looks kind of like Spanish colonial but a little different. They were lovely structures. Some were totally abandoned and in disrepair while others where inhabited and lively. Interspersed were modern homes with beautiful landscaping. Contemporary high rises dotted a few streets. Often, both old and new were painted in bright colors. Eventually we made it to the river. It was muddy and not too appealing. It got broader, more rapid and wooded out of town. We would keep crossing it the next day as we drove into the mountains. Raphael said the river neighborhood often floods and you could see the water line on some of the buildings. An old abandoned factory stood near its banks. We looked down into the water and saw some brawny men working on a boat that was tethered to a landing. They glistened. We noticed we were sweating and he said we were experiencing unseasonably warm temperatures. It felt more like summer. We made our way back to his parent's house through more colorful houses and businesses.
The sky clouded up as we walked and the wind picked up. The weather was about to change. By the time we had dinner that night, the air was cooling rapidly. Winter conditions were on the way. When we awoke the next morning, it was gray, cool and wet. The temperature was in the low 50s. It had been around 80 the day before. We ate breakfast and gathered our things for our trip to the mountains. A very damp and foggy couple of days were awaiting us.
As I sat sipping coffee and gazing out at leaden skies, I caught my first glimpse of a Brazilian soccer star who would dominate the news cycle. On the TV were pictures of a hunky guy who had been arrested on conspiracy of murder charges. It was only the beginning. As the days unfolded, so did the sordid life of Bruno... Raphael announced the car was packed and ready. We were off to Gramado.
Next: The mountains, Wilkommen and fondue.
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