Welcome to Brazil, World's Friendliest People

We arrived in Porto Alegre and disembarked at a huge multi-level bus terminal.  It was 8:30 p.m., very dark outside, and once again we had no place to stay.  All the hotels across from the bus station appeared high-end and out of our price range.  However, none of us were looking forward to locating a cheaper hotel in the dark in an unfamiliar city where we could not speak the language.  Every now-and-then we do revert to tourists, and this was one of those times.

 The first hotel we went in had doormen, never a good sign for the budget-minded traveler.  After asking about the rates and stating we needed a room or rooms for five people, a brisk conversation ensued among the staff and the answer was, "no rooms".  We were not sure if it was because they had no rooms or did not want backpacker riffraff cluttering their marble lobby.  Undaunted, we moved on to the hotel next door.  The only distinguishable difference between the two hotels was the doormen wore top hats.  There was no way in Hades we could afford this place, but it was after 9:00 p.m. and we were all exhausted, so it was worth a try.

The lobby was well decorated with marble floors, dark wood paneling, plush furniture and a lobby full of well-dressed businessmen.  I tried to explain what we wanted, but was not having much luck.  Finally, one of the doormen came to my rescue and helped translate.  Since only two of us had gone on the scouting expedition, and the other three remained at the bus station, we could not make them understand we needed a room or rooms to accommodate five people.  Finally they understood and showed us a two-bedroom unit with three beds and offered to bring in a mattress to put on the floor.  It would definitely work.  The only unknown was the price.

 Through our interpreter the doorman, he quoted 370 Reals or $107.  I thought there had to be a mistake or perhaps the rate was per person, not for all five of us.  We went back through the scenario again and they quoted the same price.  After telling them we would take it, we went to retrieve our fellow tribe members at the bus station.  The five of us returned in full backpacking regalia.  The doormen just stared at us and every head in the lobby turned to gawk, smirk and openly laugh, as we were obviously not the hotel's typical clientele.  I had pre-warned my tribe that we would likely be kicked out or told they had just sold our room, but by some miracle, they gave me the registration form to complete and then showed us to our lodging.

During the translation the night before, I thought I understood breakfast was included.  Because of the rate, we could not imagine this was possible.  However, it was worth a try and we went to the breakfast room to see what was offered.  We stayed in many places that included breakfast, but it was usually a piece of toast, jam and coffee or tea.  We walked in and drew a lot of unwanted attention, as the others in the room were dressed for the day's business meetings.  I asked an attendant if breakfast was included, and in a formal, crisp tone said in perfect English, "Yes sir, breakfast is included."  Although he was very pleasant and professional, I also picked up from his tone that what he really meant was, "Yes you cheap bunch of slobs, have at it.  I just hope you leave something for the other guests.  Since when did our fine establishment become a youth hostel?".  Or maybe that was just the voice in my head speaking.

 The breakfast spread was the best we had ever seen during our travels.  It was as if a herd of wild starving horses had been let loose in a field of new clover.  Needless to say, we took advantage of the bounty and gorged ourselves.  Thankfully, they did not charge by the kilo or it might have cost more than the room.

 

We caught the mid-morning bus to Florianopolis.  It was a seven-hour ride on a very comfortable double-decker bus.  Florianopolis is located on a large island in the state of Santa Catarina on the East Coast of Brazil.  The population is a little more than 400,000 and is very modern with a well-established infrastructure.  The outlying communities and towns are world-famous for their spectacular beaches, rugged boulder-strewn shoreline and surfing.

 Our final destination was one of the beach communities on the main island, but which one?   After entering a voluminous hall in a huge no-frills concrete building at the bus station, we began looking for the tourist office to solicit recommendations on where to stay.  A somewhat shady-acting character approached us stating that he had the perfect place for us in a town called Barra da Lagos.  We were very wary, and decided to visit the tourism office instead.

 Fortunately, someone in the office spoke enough English for us to explain what we wanted.  It had to be walking distance to great surfing, inexpensive, have grocery stores within close proximity and Internet access.  After hearing our description, they said Barra da Lagos was the place for us, and by-the-way the guy standing in the hall looking this way could help you.  Sheepishly, we returned to the "somewhat shady-acting character" who was happy to show us his letters of recommendation and promised to find the prefect place.

 His name was Alejandro and he was originally from Uruguay.  He insisted on driving us to Barra da Lagos in his car.  After gathering all of our gear, he took us to his small white Fiat and insisted he could get our gear and us in it.  By some miracle it and we fit, but we could not move or see out the windows.  Which given his driving prowess was a blessing.

 Alejandro drove, talked, kept playing different CDs he thought we would like (he did this while driving with his knees and changing gears), gave running "chamber of commerce" commentary, and honked and waved at every pretty female we passed stating he was in love and she was his girl friend.  We hoped we would survive the drive, and if not, then we could say we had been entertained right up to the point where the car plunged into the ocean.  He was a character extraordinaire and also became our best friend for the next two weeks.

 Little did we know that Alejandro would have serious competition for being the town's resident character.  An American from Hawaii who had an apartment in the house where we stayed would give Alejandro "a run for his money".  But more about him and wonderful Barra da Lagos in next week's article.

 And remember . . . "Travel is the ultimate education."