The egg is the worst - Ilha Grande, Buzios, and Jeri

It´s been a while. Sorry. Last we left off, our two protagonists were circling the four square blocks of Ipanema, their safehaven in Rio de Janeiro (a beautiful, exciting city, but unfortunately one deserving of its sketchy rep.) The Noodles then hopped on a bus, followed by a big sail boat, and explored the wonderful island of Ilha Grande, 2 hours southeast of Rio. The island is indeed grande, with steep, tropical-forrested mountains sloping gently downward to meet the cool, clear sea, but its only inhabited town is tiny and filled with nothing but pousadas and restaurants (and a cart of homemade sweeties that the Noodle with the sweet tooth tried to climb into and make her home). No cars. We spent our days there hopping on schooners which took us to and from Praia de Lopez-Mendez, one of the best beaches either have us have ever stepped foot on - sand as white and fine as baking flour and dazzling clear, turquoise water. Every day we lined up at the dock with the rest of the youthful backpackers and cute Brazilians. Every day boats would take off one by one until the only people left standing at the dock were the Noodles, some 65 year olds, and a weird German dude. We don´t know why, but for the rest of our time on Ilha Grande, we never made it onto any of the boats with anyone under 65.

Next stop - Buzios. A very cute and upscale beach town 3 hours north of Rio(technically it´s around 2 hours but the bus likes to stop every four minutes. For the return we thought we could avoid the unnecessary extra travel time on the bus by booking a mini-bus private transfer, but the mini-bus driver thoughtfully decided to stop en route for a car wash so I guess the Brazilians will do what they have to in order to make the Rio-Buzios route a 3 hour tour). We checked into our cute pousada, Buzios Guesthouse ($100 Reales), and immediately it began to rain. Boo. We checked out the town anyway and ran into a kid we went to high school with. Weird (the kid and the coincidence). The next day was exactly the same, sans high school kid. It´s too bad it was raining. Buzios seemed really nice.

After Buzios, we began our 2 day journey to Jericoacoara, a coastal town in the northeast. We flew into Fortaleza, a hooker´s paradise, and hopped on a bus early the next morning that arrived in Jeri 7 hours later (including 1.5 hours in an open-air 4WD Universal Studios tour type tram that made the last leg of the journey to Jeri driving on the beach and over the sand dunes). The landscape of this place is like nothing we´ve ever seen before and in many ways is more what we'd expect from a Saharan oasis than an equatorial fishing village. Miles and miles of enormous golden sand dunes, all within meters of the ocean. Throw in some cows, a few horses and palm trees and lots of growling dune buggies, and you've got Jericoacoara. We´ve spent the last few days lazily wandering around the tiny town with no paved roads. At 5:30 every night, the entire town walks up the enormous dune and watches the sunset. Once the sun goes down, the capoeira guys gather on the beach and defy gravity with graceful flips and maneuvers so powerful and swift that we get chills watching them. We got up enough courage last night to inquire about capoeira classes. We asked a guy who spoke some English, ´When are the classes?´ His answer went on for about 25 minutes during which his name changed from Elin to Wesley, he told us classes are held every day on the beach at 4:30pm, except for Sunday when there are no classes, but on Sunday the classes are at 7pm, and so I'll see you tonight at 6pm. Huh? (blank Simpsons face). We have no idea when the classes are.

And now for some general ranting. To all those out there who hate America, hate Bush, hate Americans - we hear you. And the reason we hear you is because you talk about these things in front of our faces and direct your comments at us while we are all eating papaya together for breakfast. No, the Noodles did not vote for Bush. No, not EVERY single American spends their days hopping between Home Depot and Wal Mart with a Dunkin Donut in one hand and a Starbucks Frappaccino in the other. Especially not the two Americans sitting right in front of you! And then there is the persistent ripping on Brazilian culture for being so "Americanized"? What is this American influence? The traffic! Yes, America is solely responsible for the overcrowding of city streets worldwide with diesel coughing vehicles. Fuck off! (A British couple we met today practically suggested that Brazilian culture would be much more authentic and interesting if the Brazilians were poorer and lived in mud huts by a river.)

But perhaps this criticism of America is part of the general tendency of travelers to be overly blunt and opinionated. Last night we dined with an Italian friend and the following conversation ensued when it came up that Ande is a vegetarian:

Italian: Ah but you don´t eat the meat.
Ande: I eat fish.
Italian: But the fish is the worst. [Meaning the most toxic?]
Ande and Jen: Why is that?
Italian: Yes, it is a proven scientific fact.
Ande and Jen: Blank Simpsons faces.
Italian: Ah no. The egg is the worst. Unless the chicken lives together with you in your home. Then the egg is okay. Then the shrimp is the worst.

The waitress comes and the Italian orders a giant plate of shrimps.