Show must go on… (Joinville – Florianopolis)
Posted on | September 29, 2009 | 6 Comments
- New Start
After a big break I took my new equipment and hit the road again. As you know I dislike walking through citys with millions of citisens, so I started walking from Joinville. I could feel it in my shoulders, my back and of course in my feet, that I didn´t walk for a long time. After 10 Km I felt the first pain. I left a lot of things in Curitiba, but anyway, the weight of my bagpack seemed to be doubled. The first day I walked along the highwat (again). But the see was close and I couldn´t wait to arrive there. It was clowdy, but it didn´t rain. There were many little villages and bars on my way, but nature and tranquility was missing.
Sunset. No Police- or Firestations close. But there was a kind of hospital standing there so I asked, if they have some space for me. They allowed me to put my tent on the ground behind the hospital. At 9 pm I had a coffee and a chat with the doorsman and went to sleep.
The next morning started with a drizzle. After another 15 Km I reached the see. I asked people for the way to Barra Velha, which was my target for that day. “You´re almost there”, they lied. At last “almost there”, meant 12 more kilometers. When I arrived, the millitary police sent me to the firemen, which were located on the highway. I went there and the guys recieved me very friendly. Funny guys, 2 dogs (Max and Heineken), coasy place. I stayed 2 days there, washed and dried my clothes, rested, talked to the firemen and even made some imergency-practise-training with them (I was the victim and they had to rescue me).
Bombeiros Voluntarios de Barra Velha
My walk went on without any amazments. At the end of the day I arrived in Penha. I walked through the town and didn´t really like it. I asked some people for the fire brigade and got three different directions…
So, of course I got lost in an alley, where a scary looking guy, maybe 25, with scars in his face, started to follow me. “Ey”, he shouted and went in front of me. He looked kind of angry and as if he was on drugs. He held something in his hand but I don´t know what it was, I stared into his face instead. He said something but I didn´t understand him. The only words I understood was “sua mochilla”, which means “your bagpack”. I didn´t say anything and kept staring seriouse into his face. It was funny, he seemed to expect an answer or a reaction and waited and waited, and after 10 seconds of silent staring he seemed to become very confused. He looked so funny, that I couldn´t repress to smile, which confused him even more. “Well, what ever,…”, he said, turned around and went away. So did I.
Again I slept at the bombeiros voluntarios and when I woke up the next day, it was raining kaskades. It was an incredible rain and it didn´t stop. It was absurd to wait. I looked into the sky and knew, it wouldn´t stop till the evening. I took my things and started waling without breakfest. Well… At that day I had some special obstacles to overcome:
Flooding in Penha
After 5 Km I was still in the town and the rain was still the same.
I stopped at a Lan-House, which was closed. But there was a woman inside. She opened the window. I asked, if they gonna open soon. “No, it´s closed because of the flooding-warnings”. Suddenly I had a picture in my mind, of me, swimming to the next city. “Are you walking?” She asked. “Yes”, I said. She had very warm eyes. “You had breakfest, yet?”, “No”, I said. She gave me 2 warm and tasty sandwidches and a bottle of Cola. It was still raining a lot, but it was dry at the window. We had a nice conversation while I was having my breakfest at the window. “Christ will open the way for you”, she said. It stopped raining. And I went on.
Sometimes I asked for the way and note that the same communication-problems with the people repeat themselves over and over again:
Me: “Excuse me, where is the way to Itajaí?”
Man: “You can take the bus the next street.”
Me: “No, I´d like to walk.”
Man: “Yes, you can walk to the bus-station, it´s close.”
Me: “I mean I´d like to walk to Itajaí.”
Man: “…Yes, the bus is coming soon.”
Me: “I wana go with the feet, no bus.”
Man: “What? No, you can´t do this. It´s 20 kilometers. Take the bus.”
But at last I found the way, which was very nice at that day:
Finaly a quite path
A very nice walk for about 10 km. Then I reached the highway again and arrived in Navegantes, where I was hosted by the very friendly bombeiros. We drank a lot of cofe, sitting together at a table and I was telling my storys. The guys had a fantastic humor. The next morning they woke me up, singing the word “Café” with the melody of Mozats 15 symphony. I went from Navegantes to Itajai and from there I desided to walk along the beach. I was fed up with the highway. I got lost in a little village but then I found a path, going through a little forest, leading directly do Bolneario, which was my destination for that day. I walked through the forest and get stranded at the beach again. Dead-end:
Shoes off...
So I took my shoes off and walked through the water, which was very refreshing. I arrived in Bolneario and note that I forgot all my documents in Navegantes… I got frustrated and drank a cofé in a restaurant of an Argentinian, where I also left my bagpack behind, to take the bus back to Navegantes, do get my documents back. I arrived back in Bolneario at night and the bombeiros hosted me again. This time the bombeiros were not really interested. The only one who spoke with me, was Felippe, an 8 years old boy, who asked me a lot of questions. We had a nice chat and played kickers afterwards.
From Bolneario I wanted to reach Tijucas, which was quite far. I left the highway and walked along the beach. What a fantastic day. The sun was shining, the people were friendly. I passed Itapema (beautyfull town) when a car passed by. The smiling driver opened the window, shouting something like “Hey man, the Camino De Santiago is already over”. I was surprised. That was the first one I met in Brasil, who knew about the Camino de Santiago. Tiago got out of the car and we had a nice conversation about the camino, which he walked in the year 2007. And when I continued walking he said something, which I really missed to hear for one year now: “Buen Camino”.
Two or three more kilometers along the beach, and I was in a mood af absulute happyness. I threw my bagpack onto the sand took off my clothes and jumped into the see. The water was cold and refreshing, the waves were high. I took some time for myself and made a siesta.
Beach of Itapema
For the next 10 km I was in a fantastic mood. But the last 5 were horroble. My feet hurt like hell and I moved forward with maximum 2 km/h. I arrived in Tijucas at night, stayed at the bombeiros again and went on to Biguacu the next day. Awfull route. This time I couldn’t walk along the beach. Only highway. And the whole day was only boring. Nothing happened at all. In Biguacu I slept at the policia militar (in a room which was looking like a garage) on the floor and continued (not really rested) at th next day to Florianopolis, where I want to rest for some days and discover the Island. “The Island Of Magic”, they say. Looking forward to arrive there. They also say that the island is famouse for the friendly people, paradisic beaches (42 in total), and beautyfull girls. I walked and walked, looking for the bridge which leads to the island, and finaly:
Bridge to Florianopolis
I continue my walk…
Posted on | August 20, 2009 | 2 Comments
I will leave Curitiba, to continue my walk the 09.09.09.
Because of bureaucratic and personal reasons I will have to extend my stay.
I will start definetly the 23.09.09 with new shoes, new bagpack and new camera.
The break in Curitiba (Curitiba)
Posted on | July 10, 2009 | No Comments
Now (15.07.09), I am one month in Curitiba.
The time I spent here until now was just amazing and I am very grateful to all the people I met here.
Arriving here, I desided to try something new on my trip: stabilize myself here for some months. Living and working. The reasons for this decision:
-My shoes have walked their last kilometers and I definetly need new ones.
-The same is to sat for my bagpack. The belts are broken and it has a lot of holes in it.
-I definetly need a camera. And…
-This country is just too amazing to leave it so soon. There is much more to learn and to discover.
For the first three aspects I need money which means I need to work.
What I do:
Teaching English in a Language-School and
Giving Workshops (Realisação Pessoal Atraves Do Auto-Conhecimento)
Big thanks to all the people who offered me their places to stay and helped me in many aspects.
Also big thanks for the support from Thomas Frank and the company Beratungscentrum fuer Versicherungen.
The following pictures are to show some of my days in Curitiba.
More pictures coming soon
An undesirable comrade (Registro – Curitiba)
Posted on | June 23, 2009 | 5 Comments
It was about 6 or 7 am. “Good morning BR116″. I started walking.
After about 2 Km I heard some words behind me, which almost drowned in the noise of the trucks : “Hey, wait a sec!”. I turned around. Another pilgrim, walking on the other side of the road. But he was different. He waved his hand, greeting me. He seemed to try to smile, but it didn’t really work out. He crossed the street, almost hit by a car. Hes was about 1,90 m, black, carrying a little bag with him. He asked me for a cigarette. I gave him one and we started to chat. He walked to the same direction as I did. “Where are you going?”, he asked me. “Curitiba”, I said. “Where is that?”. I was surprised. “It’s the capital of Parana. Maybe 180 Km left… How about you?”. “I don’t know. I just walk”. “No target?” He shacked his head. “No target. This is how I live. I don’t need the society”. At first it seemed that I met Supertramp from the movie Into the wild.
“Do you have a target?”, he asked. “Sure”, I said. “Once around the planet”. He looked at me… His facial expression told me that he didn’t really believe me. “Ok”, he said and we kept walking silent.
“How do you organize food?”, he asked finally. “I asked people for help”. “Yeah man! I’m doing the same” he said laughing. I had to smile… “So actually you do need the society?”. He looked at me as if he didn’t understand what I mean. Another silence for a couple of minutes…
“How do you ask for food?”, I asked. “Acting”, he said and stopped to show me: His face became a mix of sadness, bitterness and another expression I couldn’t classify. “Oh pleaaase… I’m staaarving.” He put his hands on his stomach, demonstrating, that he’s dying. “They robbed me, they beat me, I don’t have anything to eat and drink. Please help me, pleaase!”… “Does it work?”, I asked. “Sometimes”, he answered. “You just have to keep begging. After some minutes they give you a piece of bread just to get rid of you”, he said an laughed again. I looked at him: “Can you do me a favor? At the next bar… let me ask for food”. And 5 minutes later we reached the next bar. Actually it was a restaurant. One of the waiters was standing outside at the entrance, enjoying the sun. We stopped in front of him. My “comrade” behind me. I smiled at the waiter, nodding my head, greeting him. He smiled back: “Travelers?” He asked. I nod. “Hungry?”. I nod again, keeping smiling. The waiter went inside and came back with 2 plates of pasta, meat and rice. I thanked and went aside with the plates. I gave José (that was his name) one plate. He started eating as if someone told him <you have 5 seconds to finish it>.
We kept on walking and talking. After another 5 km I felt sleepy. I needed a coffee. I was lucky, the next bar was close. Many bars on that part of the road. We entered the bar. José was standing behind me, observing curious what I am going to do… I talked to the bar-tender-girl. Explained that I am walking for peace and feeling a bit tired. Asked if it was ok to drink a coffee here (I just can’t pay). “Wow!”, she said. “Of course. What do you want to eat? You must be hungry”. “Oh, thanks a lot. I don’t need much. Just a coffee, please”. She prepared a coffee for me, asking me more about my project. Suddenly José appeared: “Yeah! We are walking for peace. We are walking around the planet! We are very famous guys!”… “You want a coffee, too?”, the girl asked him without smiling. “Sure!”, he said and got his coffee…
We kept on walking. I gave José a skeptik look. He ignored it. “Now I know your secret.” He said and laughed again. “I will ask at the next bar”. “Ok”, I said…
And he did: He entered the bar, walked fast towards the bar-tender and looked at him as if he is ready to kill him: “Excuse me, I am walking for peace!! It’s a big project. And I need food! I am hungry!”… Silence…
The bar-tender (probably scared like hell) gave him two rolls and José left the bar.
“Well, that’s not the secret”, I said. “No?”, he asked. I shacked my head. “No, it’s much easier. Just smile and be friendly… And always say the truth”. Surprised he stared at me: “But I said the truth. We are going together around the planet”… I took a deep breath: “You know… we can walk together for one or two days… But then I’d like to walk alone again”. Suddenly there was a mix of aggression and fear in his voice: “No way, man! We are going together. We are a team, now! I gonna follow you wherever you go!!!”
“Wonderful“, I thought…
I had to get rid of him. In this situation, I knew, talking is no solution. “Alright!”, I said, “So, let´s go”. I speeded up. I walked very fast and didn´t make any breaks anymore. After hours my legs started hurting, but I didn´t slow down. He still followed me but I could see that he was tired. Another hour… He started to hobble. “Are you ok?”, I asked him, keeping walking as fast as I can. “Sure!”, he lied. The sun set and we arrived in Cajati, a small town with maybe 5.000 citysens. We walked 44 Km. I was dead, but I didn´t show it. We sat down in a bar and I bought a beer for me and one for him from my 50 Reais emergency money. ”Are you sure you want to go with me every day? You look quite tired. I walk every day at least 45 Km… If you want, we can meet in Curitiba. I go ahead and you, take your time”.
“No! I am going with you!”. I couldn´t believe it. I knew, he couldn´t walk 45 Km a day frequently. But I couldn´t do so neither. “Alright”, I said, “I need to go to a Lan-House. I have to write some mails”. “I´m coming with you”, he said (of course). We arrived and I sat down at a computer. He was watching, what I was doing. So I started to make things, he didn´t understand. It didn´t take me long to bore him. “You look bored. You can have another computer if you want. I pay for you”. “ok”, he said. He sat down at another computer and started to play Counterstrike…
After ten minutes he was completely in the game and almost leaned his head on the monitor. I finished my things at my computer. I stood up, took some money and put it onto his table, so that he could pay the computers and maybe have a coffee next day. I took my backpack and got out of there. He was too busy with shooting people in the game to note something. I went to the police-station and explained them my situation.
“Alright, you can sleep here”. I was safe. I took a shower. The blend of the hot water and the blood, coming from my feet, reminded me of a horror-movie I have seen some years ago. But the horror was over for me, now. I was safe.
The next morning started. I had to leave at 7 am. To get back to the road I had to walk through the whole town again. It happened anywhere in the middle of the way: I walked round the corner and my body and mind froze for some seconds. There he was again. On the other side of the alley, searching for me. Even asking people if they have seen me. I couldn´t believe it. He looked very, very angry. I was lucky, he didn´t see me. I turned around, walked back and hid behind some old houses. In that moment I realized that I couldn´t go on walking anymore. The guy would find me. Because I (fool) told him my destination and my way. He would hitch-hike on the road to find me. And there is no other way to Curitiba. Of course there isn´t. If there was another way I wouldn´t walk this cursed highway. In this case I had no other choice than to take the bus. I went to the bus station and payed the ticked. Suddenly I was wondering “What if I didn´t have that money?”. It was the first time on my trip, that I felt really really relieved, having some money.
Until 1 pm I was hiding in the town, trying not to be found by the guy. Succesfully. The bus brought me to Curitiba at 4 pm. I felt relieved. It would take some time to find someone in a city with 2 million habitants. I took my last 10 Reais and went to a Lan-House, to explain to my couch-surfing-contact (who was Juliana), that I arrived in Curitiba.
One hour later I was picked up and felt safe and secured for the first time since Sao Paulo.
The Death-Road-Pilgrimage (Sao Paulo – Registro)
Posted on | June 9, 2009 | 3 Comments
The second week in Sao Paulo I had the honor to live in the biggest University of south-America (USP) which is really as big as a small city. Again I lived in a flat with 3 other students. Kiwia, a journalist hosted me there. I´ve visited a lecture, went to some students-partys and learned really a lot about a journalists-life. Indeed most of my thoughtsandattitudes about journalism changed (in a positive way).
After 4 days I continued my journey. I started walking from the USP and reached Angelica´s place, where she received and hosted me for one night. The next day we walked together to Itapecerica. It was very peaceful and nice. Itapecerica is a small but nice and cosy city. I liked the idea to work there for some weeks but the language schools told me the same as usual: At least 6 months. At the moment I can´t imagine myself 6 moths without walking. Angelika said goodbye at the end of this nice day and I kept on walking on the BR 116 or “pista da morte” (death-road) how the people call it. I walked until Sao Lourenço da Serra. It was quite hard. Not physically but mentally. All you see is highway and trucks. For hours and hours. Almost no civilisation, bar, gas-station, etc. I reached Sao Lourenço and staid at the police-station. One of the officers wrote a letter which I should show to all the other police-stations in the Sao Paulo State. This little text had an enormous value because it was the ticket to safe places to sleep on my way! I chat with the officers and went so sleep.
The next day I started walking before sunrise. 6 am. So I had a lot of time and could make many pauses on my way. And I really needed them. At the end of the day I note that this road starts driving me crazy. I got angry and disbalanced. I hated every truck passing me. I passed Juquitiba and walked 12 more kilometers. I stopped in a little village, went to a bar, told people who I am and asked if there is any safe place to sleep.
“You can sleep at my place”, said the guy with the Cap on his head, a glass of Cachaça in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like a gangster but his eyes told me he wasn´t. We smoked a cigarette together and went to his place. And once more I slept in a favela. Xandre was really an unlucky guy. 3 Weeks ago his wife disappeared, 2 weeks ago he lost his job, one week ago his little house was burgled. They stole his tvand shot his dog. And still he was so kind a received a foreigner in his house and gave him food. We prayed. I was looking forward to sleep because I really needed rest from the truck-noises of the BR116. “Let´s go to sleep”, he said and I laid down, covered in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes. Suddenly I heard a terrible noise… It was the radio. “I hope it doesn´t bother you. I need the radio to sleep”.
After hours I fell asleep and woke up with a headache. Not really rested I continued my pilgrimage on this lovely highway…
To give you an idea about the road (Picture: Google)
I asked for food in a bar and got some. Then… Nothing for about 25 kilometers. Nothing but trucks of course. I got very surprised when I saw other pilgrims walking along the street. Most of them had old clothes, long beards, some had big bags, some had small bags. Some of them greet me some stare with a scary look at me. For sure they were not walking, because they liked it. Most of them were already like zombies. I was afraid of becoming like them after 400 km on this highway. I wondered where they were going. It was getting dark. I saw some people at the side of the road drinking a cofé and making a little fire. It was really cold. I asked them if I can rest a bit. I needed conversation not to get depressed. I got a cofé and sat down at the fire. But there was not much to talk about with the people. They were very simple habitants who were just interested in surviving the next day. I kept on walking and reached little bar. Again I asked for a place to sleep. The woman, who had very nice eyes but a terrible laughter which almost made my head explode, told me not to go to the next village. ”You are at the most dangerous place of this road, because here you have 40 km without police in any direction. Go and hide behind this bar”.
There was half a building behind the bar. I climbed through the holes of the old walls and hide in this building. I put my tent inside and went to the bar to have a cofé. Some of the people were friendly, some weren´t. After half an hour the bar was full. The lady with the friendly eyes but terrible laughter came to me and said: “Go to sleep, now”.
It was midnight. I climbed through the holes into the old building to my tent when I heared a voice: “Have you seen the German guy?” I looked outside. I was curiouse and wanted to know who was looking for me. One of the guys who was staring at me in the bar was standing outside, turning his head around, very busy searching for me. He ran into the forest. I jumped out of my hiding and started to run after him. He ran fast and disappeared in the darkness. I was just lucky that he didn´t notice me and that he ran too fast, so that I lost him. On my way back I realized that my curiosity almost killed me. ´Cause probably he didn´t want to play cards with me or something like that… I climbed into my tent and slept until the sunrise.
I woke up, took my things and kept on walking. I wanted to reach Miracatu at that day. I knew there was a police-station which means a safe place to sleep. I walked for 2 or 3 hours and saw some frames covered with lots of bananas at the side of the road. People standing or sitting there, washing the bananas, hanging the green ones onto the frames, taking the yellow ones from the frames and throwing them into boxes. I stopped at one of this frames and watched the people working. “Oi!”, an old man greeted me. “Oi!”, I answered. “Cafesinho?”, he asked. “Sim, por favor!” I answered. We drank a cofe together and talked a bit. Things like that save me from losing my mind on this road. He gave me some bananas for my way. I walked and walked. My feet hurt like hell. I paused and had a look at them. They were bleeding a bit but I didn´t have the time to make a long rest. I had to reach Miracatu before sunset. After some hours it became cold, the bananas were eaten, the water-bottle was empty, my stomach as well. No bars or gas-stations. Only trucks…
It was about 4´o clock and I stopped. I was tired and couldn´t walk anymore. I laid down at the side of the road and fell asleep… I woke up when the sun set. It was colder now but at least I was able to walk again. I observed my thoughts which were verydisballanced and aggresive. Some of them shocked me. I arrived at a bar. I drank a cofe which was really necesarry. I watched myself sitting on the chair like a zombie and starting to talk loke a zombie. I didn´t smile anymore. I felt dirty inside and outside. I was like one of the death-road-pilgrims. I had to wash my body and my clothes… and my mind.
Three more kilometers on the highway. I reached the outskirts at 9 pm and went into the first bar I saw. People there were friendly and asked me who I am. I said I´m looking for the police-station to have a shower and to sleep. The bar-keeper: ”It´s in the city, but if you don´t want to get robbed or killed on your way to the police, you should stay here. You can have a shower here and sleep in the bar when I close”.
I rushed into the bathroom and had a shower. I felt revived. I walked around in front of the bar and thought about this “road of death”. Suddenly: “BAM!”
Many people running to the road. There was a crowd standing there looking at the road with flashlights. Some of them were screaming. I joined. “What´s going on?”.
There was a dead horse lying on the road. It was hit by one of the trucks. A woman told to the crowd what she have seen. I didn´t understand a word but she gesticulated with her hands very well so that you had a picture of the horse, running on the road, then hit by the truck and flying across the whole road, landing on the ground and hit by another truck again… Unlucky animal.
After a while the bar was full. This time I felt safe. The people seemed to be okay. Dada, the bar-tender, who was 41, but looked like 29, tried to explain me what he is doing besides the bar-job. I didn´t understand till he showed me some pictures. He was a clown! Working with children in hospitals to make them smile and laugh. I really didn´t expect that because in his bar-tender-role sometimes he seemed a little bit like a gangster.
At 2´o clock in the night he closed the bar (from inside). “You can sleep here”, he pointed to a corner.
“You´re going home?” I asked. “I am home”, he said and put a mattress onto the floor behind the counter. I was lying in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, thankful that I can finaly sleep, now.
Dada turned off the light… and turned on the radio (really loud) to sleep…
The headache I had the next day last until midday. I had a breakfest in Miracatu. One man who was sitting at the table next to me stared at me and after a while he shouted: “Hey you are that guy from the newspaper! The walker!”, “Yes, I am” I said. He was quite excited and we talked a bit. Another man joined the discussion: “I saw you walking in Sao Lourenço da Serra. May I pay the cofé for you?”
When I left the bar I was cheered up and had some motivation again. Anyway, it didn´t make the road disappear. The way was as hard and depressing as at the days before. I arrived in Registro (at night as usual). The police told me to go to the “Albergue”. I asked if this is one of the Albergues for homeless people. “No, no, it´s an Albergue especially for walkers”. I went there and had a look. Indeed, it was a kind of “Albergue dos peregrinos da pista da morte”. The owner was very nice. We talked about half an hour and he gave me really good food. “So this albergue is for walkers who pass by?” I asked him. “Yes”, he answered. “Where are they going?”. He laughed: “They don´t have a target. They don´t have a home, they don´t have an ID. They don´t have a future. They just walk around, trying to survive anyhow… They are dead from the inside. But you don´t look like one of them”… “Yet”, I thought.
I went to the room where I was supposed to sleep. 8 beds. One was occupated. He was awake. Maybe 24 years old. Empty eyes. He was dirty and smelled. Though there was a bathroom, he didn´t seem to be interested in washing himself. I had a shower and went to sleep. He woke me in the night to ask me for a lighter. I gave him the lighter. He smoked a joint, staring at the wall. Finaly he fell asleep.
The next day he kept on walking to the direction Sao Paulo. Me, Curitiba.
It´s raining friends (Bertioga – Sao Paulo)
Posted on | May 24, 2009 | 5 Comments
From today on I will write in English!
My English skills are not perfect, so please excuse me if you find horrible mistakes or expression 
I reached bertioga the next day an decided to walk a bit further. I was full of energy at that day so I wanted to make use of it. I arrived at a little village at night and finished this day like I use to finish it mostly: I entered a bar and asked for my leisure-time-beer. The smiling bartender-girl (I guess between 20 and 30 years old) gave me the beer. She seamed to be talkactive so I asked her if she knows about a near fire-station or any other place to sleep for me. She negated and asked me why I don´t have a place to sleep. I started to explain an after a short time a conversation started. I was the only customer so the conversation became deeper. I observed myself while talking and noticed that this country or my walkings, or both, start changing my personality. I watch myself being more talkactive and extroverted than before. I feel a kind of happiness, talking to people I don´t know, which is very new for me. Anyway…
We chat about half an hour and I was about to leave when she said: “Wait, maybe I have a place to sleep for you”. She made a call. “You can stay at my place today!”. I was glad like crazy. I kept on talking with Patricia. One hour later her son Carlinhos arrived at the bar. Back from school on his way home. He´s 13 years old, but his behavior, his social competence, his intellect,… was amazing. He brought me to the place of his family. He, Patricia, as well as her parents, were living together in one house, surrounded by nature… They received me like brasilian people always receive me: warm, hospitable, friendly. They gave me food, some new clothes and even new bootlaces. And a warm bed to sleep as well. Carlinhos showed me around in the forests, we talked a lot and he understood my spanish very well. At the end of the evening we had fantastic chess-matches. I went to bed and slept like a stone… a content stone.
After a good breakfest Patricia asked me to come to the Bar one more time. “My chef would like to meet you”. We went back to the bar and I got to know Ricardo. Calm, warm, friendly and peaceful. And a fantastic handcraft-artist!
Andrej and Ricardo. In-between: One of Ricardos artworks
“I saw you walking on the street yesterday and for some reason I knew you would hit this bar.” He told me about another pilgrim who passed by a short time ago. Also walking thousands of kilometers. He ate and rested in this bar, just like me.
We talked and talked… until the sunset.
The number of Km I did that day: 0
The value of the time I spent at that place: Infinite
That evening I got to know Carlinhos, Ricardo and Patricia better, and I really can say that I met very special people who became friends.
Nair, Andrej, Paty
Carlinhos, Andrej, Fabiane
When I woke up in the morning of the next day, it was raining cascades. The street became a river and I dind´t want to “swim” to the next city so I waited. It stopped raining at 2 pm which meant that I would arrive late at night again. But anyway… I needed to walk. The road was calling. So I went.
I walked extremely fast. I didn´t make breakes, I didn´t feel hungry or thursty, I didn´t feel any kind of pain… I walked along the highway and sometimes, if there was no other way, on the highway, and arrived at the beginning of Guaruja at night. “Don´t go through the favelas”, people told me. “Don´t! It´s too dangerouse”. I beleave that it might be dangerouse to walk through favelas at night with a bagpack. But because of any reason I had the feeling, that nothing is going to happen. I decided to find it out and walked about 5 or 6 favela-kilometers. As I thought: Nothing happened. Nothing but friendly people, greeting me. When I reached the center I felt sleepy. I drank a cofé at a gas-station and went on walking, asking about 10 (or more) fire- and police-stations if it´s possible to sleep there for a night. The answer is always the same: ”Here? No, sorry. Try another station”. I searched until 1 `o clock in the night and didn´t even find a place for my tent. So I decided to stay in a cheap hostel and went to Santos the next day.
I arrived earlier than I thought so I didn´t know what to do with the rest of the day. I decided not to go on walking to Sao Paulo. I liked Santos and wanted to have a look at the city. For at least one day. I hoped to find a couch, but I didn´t (at first). I stayed 2 days, enjoing the beach, the sun. And of course searching for a couch and a job. The answer I got mostly, when I asked in Hotels: “Sorry, wrong season”. I was about to leave at the third day. But then something happened. Something I didn´t expect anymore: I got a message from Ju who said that she could host me. Happy like a child I jumped to the next telephone box and caled her. We met in the evening and she brought me to her place. I entered the living room and saw 5 faces, looking at me. 5 students, flat-sharing. I felt like “back in Hamburg” because this is how I was living, before starting this trip. Even the flat looked similar. I spent two days at Ju´s place. Two days which were very similar to my times in Hamburg. And I realy missed that: We went to a soccer game, we went to a bar with a bunch of friends and students, talked, drank beer, talked more, laughed, drank more beer, had great conversations. For the first time of my life I saw Capoerah-Dancings. If I wasn´t walking, I would dance Capoerah. I also met new people and more new people. Everyone sympathic. The only thing I regret is, that my portuguese is still not good enough. When I continued my journey I took a peece of home with me. Thanks to Ju&friends.
Now I will write something, most of you surely don´t want to read. But unfortunatly it´s the truth:
At that day I took a bus from Santos to Sao Paulo and “cheated” about 80 km. And maybe I will do it again. Every time when I am in a city with more than 10 million habitants. Walking through citys like that is something I realy don´t enjoy. But I am sure, I won´t pass many of them so you can be sure that exceptions like that will be very, very rare
And here I am. Sao Paulo. At the couch of Steven and Patricia. And once more I can say: I am surrounded by loveley people. As you can see below, I am in Folha Online. I had great conversations with english-clases in the language-school ”Seven”. I had nice talkings at the table, eating awesome food. I went partying to a rock-concert with fantastic people. I had much time to rest. And to think. Thanks to Steven, thanks to Patricia, thanks to Valeria, thanks to Bomfa. Thanks to Brazil. Indeed… here
it´s raining great people.
Folha Online
Posted on | May 23, 2009 | 5 Comments
Grosse Herzen (Paraty – Bertioga)
Posted on | May 17, 2009 | No Comments
Von einem Motorboot wurde ich von Michel mit meinem Rucksack wieder an Land von Paraty gebracht und wanderte zunaechst eine bergige Landschaft nach oben. An diesem Tag lag ein weiter Weg vor mir. Strasse und Baeume, sonst nichts. 20 Km lang. Ich passierte die Grenze des Staates Sau Paulo. Die “Pampa” schien endlos. Weit und breit nichts. Ich machte einige Pausen und wanderte wieder, bis in die Nacht. Ich kam um 23 uhr mit zerstoerten Fuessen und kraftlos an einem Pfad an, der mich durch ein kleines dorf, bergauf, bergab, durch Waelder, Huegel und Schlammloecher schliesslich an einen Strand fuehren sollte. Ich konnte diese 5 Km nicht mehr gehen, schlief 10 Minuten am Strassenrand, ass die letzte Banane und machte mich schliesslich auf den Weg. Ich erreichte den Strand, ging zu einer Poussada (Herberge) und hoffte, dass sie guenstig ist. Ein Mann, der mir mit einer Mischung aus Langeweile und Unfreundlichkeit entgegentrat fragte, was ich wollte. Ich erklaerte ihm meine Lage und fragte ob ich das Zelt am Strand aufbauen koennte. “Nein, am Strand ist verboten”. Ich fragte ihn ob er noch ein Zimmer haette. “Ja, ein kleines, unmoebeliertes. Und Essen gibts nicht.” Ich fragte, was es kostet.
“80 Real”. Erst dachte ich, er macht Witze, aber sein Gesicht dabei war toternst, also verabschiedete ich mich und baute das Zelt am Strand auf. Ich entdeckte, dass meine Schuhbaender zerrissen waren. Einer der vielen Faktoren, der die Wanderung an diesem Tag erschwerte. Ich fiel in den Schlaf und baute das Zelt wieder morgens um 7 ab, noch bevor mich jemand entdecken konnte.
Um 8 oeffnete die Bar, wo ich fruehstueckte und mit den Barkeeperinen quatschte. Schliesslich band ich improvisierender Weise meine Schuhbaender wieder zusammen und ging weiter. Es lief besser. Was ich am meisten brauchte, war Schlaf. Ich kam nach weiteren 20 Km an dem “Restaurante Russo” an. Der Tag neigte sich wieder dem Ende zu. Ich dachte mir dort russisch sprechende Leute anzufinden, also ging ich hinein.
Nur ein Tisch war besetzt. Eine Brasilianerin, definitiv, und ein hellhaeutiger. Blonde Haare, blaue Augen. Dieser stand auf und begruesste mich. Fragte mich ob ich mich dazugesellen wolle und ein Bier trinken wolle. Ich willigte ein und wir reichten uns die Haende. “André”, sagten wir beide zeitgleich und waren beide zeitgleich verwirrt. Im naechsten Moment ist angekommen, dass wohl beide André heissen. Die 28 jaehrige Brasilianerin stellte sich als Vanessa vor. Wir quatschten und tranken Bier.
“Du kannst in meinem Haus schlafen”
Ein traumhaftes Haus. Ebenfalls in der Natur und auf einer Anhoehe gelegen. Versteckt. Ich hatte endlich wieder eine Dusche, ruhte mich aus, genoss eine unglaubliche Aussicht auf die weiten des Meeres und die eigentlich riesigen Inseln, die von dort oben aus betrachtet wie gruene Kruemel erschienen. Ein Pool. Natuerlich springe ich rein. Wir trinken wieder Bier und nach der fuenften oder sechsten Dose spreche ich fliessend portugiesisch. Ich Vanessa und Andre philosophieren ueber Gott und die Welt. Vanessa zeigt mir den Samba-Grundschritt und mit Andre diskutier ich ueber die Herkunft saemtlicher Sprachen. Ich merke, wie ich mich in diesem Land mehr und mehr entspanne…
Nach Mitternacht ging jeder in sein Bett. Ich bedankte mich, setzte meine Reise am naechsten Morgen fort und landete schliesslich in Ubatuba. Dort angekommen ging ich ins Internet-Café und verbrachte dort gut eine Stunde. Die Sonne ging unter. Ich fragte die Frau am Schalter, ob es hier in der Naehe eine Feuerwehrstation gaebe. “Hier? Nein… Die naechste ist ziemlich weit. Wieso wo brennt´s denn?”. Ich klaerte auf.
“Wie du bist Durchreisender und hast keinen Schlafplatz?”. Sie griff zum Telefon, machte 3 Anrufe und sagte schliesslich: “Du kannst in dem Haus meiner Cousine schlafen”.
Eine wunderbare Familie. Sie hoerten interessiert zu, als ich meine Geschichte erzaehlte, gaben mir ein Zimmer, gaben mir Essen. Wir sassen zusammen im sehr simplen Wohnzimmer und schauten TV. Still und friedvoll. Und am naechsten Tag, wie immer, setzte ich meine Reise fort…
An diesem Tag war die Route so trickreich, wie der Name meines Zieles: “Caraguatatuba”. Die Strasse nach Caraguatatuba bildete dutzende Kringel, Halbkreise, Schlaengel, so dass aus 1 Km Luftlinie teilweise 5 Km Weg wurden.
Langsam aber sicher beginne ich eine Veraenderung in meinem Kopf zu spueren. Nach 10 Monaten des Wanderns bekommt man ein ganz neues Seinsgefuehl, das ich jedoch nicht genauer beschreiben kann. Ich koennte nicht einmal sagen, ob es besser oder schlechter ist. Es ist eine Veraenderung. Ich nehme war, dass es mir sehr leicht faellt zu wandern und dass es mir inzwischen sehr natuerlich erscheint. Der Gedanke an Menschen, die an einem Platz verweilen und ihrer Arbeit nachgehen, wird mir immer fremdartiger. Viele Gedanken gingen mir an diesem Tag durch den Kopf. Viele Meschen, die, wie gehabt, teilweise mit Skepsis und teilweise mit Neugier, einige sogar mit Begeisterung den fremden Wanderer betrachten. Winken und fragen: “Wohin?”
“Nach Paraguay!” sage ich immer, da es das naechste Land ist, und winke zurueck.
“Ist gleich um die Ecke!”, witzelte einer und lachte.
Ankunft in Caraguatatuba. Nacht, Stadtrand (=15 km Ghettoviertel), Betrunkene auf der Strasse, kein Camp, Hostals zu teuer. Ich betrat eine Bar, legte den Rucksack ab und fragte die Barkeeperin, ob ich mich nur ausruhen koenne. Sie erlaubte und setzte sich selber an einen Tisch. Wir quatschten. Sie erzaehlte von ihrem Sohn, der in Deutschland lebt, von ihrer Familie, von ihrem Enkel,… und befragte mich zu meiner Reise, meiner Familie, meinem Leben. Sie bot mir Essen an. Ich muss sagen, dass das Essen in Brasilien zu 80% aus Reis, Bohnen und Fleisch besteht. Aber schmecken tut es, ich kann mich nicht beklagen. Wir leerten 2 Flaschen Wein und einige Gaeste setzten sich dazu. Nach einigen Stunden bot mir einer der Gaeste seinen Wagen als Schlafplatz an. Ich willigte dankbar ein und schlief nach Feierabend im Auto. Nach einem Fruehstueck am naechsten Tag marschierte ich nach Sao Sebastião. Ein ebenfalls wunderbarer Ort mit einem sehr langem, bildschoenem Strand. Ich schlief bei der Feuerwehr. Das bisher einzige mal, dass die Feuerwehr mich an ihrer Station schlafen liess. Hilfe fuer Wanderer bei der Feuerwehr hier eher nicht gaengig. Bei dieser jedoch schon. Es gab wunderbares Abendessen und Fruehstueck.
Der Weg an diesem Tag fuehrte durch kleine, sehr simple und arme Doerfer. Ich wusste, dass ich die naechste Stadt vor Sonnenuntergang nicht mehr erreichen wuerde. Ich wanderte noch etwa 5 km in der Dunkelheit. Musik lockte mich an den Strassenrand. Sie kam aus einer Bar, am Rande einer Favela. Ich betrat die Bar und bestellte ein Bier. Ein Kunde fiel mir besonder auf. Ein junger Brasilianer, vielleicht so alt wie ich, froehliger Ausdruck und ein laecheln in den Augen. Er erschien mir sehr sympathisch und ich sprach ihn an. Es begann ein smal-talk. Die Bar fuellte sich. Inzwischen war ich und Jefferson in einem Gespraech vertieft. Er ist 20 Jahre alt, hat eine Frau, einen Sohn, arbeitet in der Stadt im Restaurant und wohnt in der Favela. Er erzaehlte etwas von seinem Leben und ich von meinem. Ich forderte ihn zu einer Partie Billard heraus. Das erste Spiel gewann ich, das zweite er. Die Bar fuellte sich und ich begann mich mit mehreren Leuten zu unterhalten. Ein junges Maedel, machte mir Essen, als ich von meiner Reise erzaehlte. Schliesslich liess mich Jefferson in seinem Haus schlafen. Wir wanderten den steilen Favelahuegel nach oben. Ich lernte seine Frau kennen und seinen Sohn, der noch kein Jahr alt ist. Es war ungewohnt fuer mich, im Haus einer Familie zu Gast zu sein mit dem Wissen, dass ich mit meinen 23 Jahren der Aelteste bin. Wir unterhielten uns noch etwas und schliesslich schlief ich auf einer Matratze ein, mit zwei schlafenden Baby-Katzen auf meinem Bauch. Am naechsten Morgen zeigte mir Jefferson seine Handysammlung. (Nichtfunktionierende) Handys aus aller Welt. Ich fuegte meine beiden nichtfunktionierenden Handys hinzu, die ich bis hier hin mitschleppte und nicht wusste, warum. Nun wusste ich es. Ich bedankte mich fuer die Gastfreundschaft und ging meines Weges. Eine wunderbare Favelaerfahrung.
Der folgende Tag begann mit einer nicht endenden und unglaublich steilen Steigung. Gelegenheiten zum Pausieren gab es nicht. Erstaunlicherweise war ich trotz der Hitze und der Steigung sehr fit und marschierte recht schnell die 20 km durch das huegelige Land. Ich kam in einem gemuetlichen, kleinen Dorf, abseits der Strasse an, pausierte und liess mir von den freundlichen Menschen erzaehlen, dass es hier eine deutsche Pousada (Herberge) gaebe. Aus Neugier und dem Wunsch heraus mal wieder mit Deutschsprachigen zu kommunizieren, ging ich hin. Ich wurde von Guenther Judith und Oliver mit Kaffee und Kuchen empfangen und wir hatten ein nettes Gespraech im Hof der Pousada. Nicht die ersten Deutschen, denen ich begegne, die Brasilien zum leben bevorzugen, was in meinen Augen sehr verstaendlich ist. Nach etwa einer Stunde verabschiedete ich mich und marschierte weiter in Richtung Bertioga, was ich nicht erreichte, da es zu weit war. Da die Feuerwehr mich an diesem Tag wieder ablehnte, war ich gezwungen in einer Herberge zu schlafen. Ich redete an diesem Abend mit Menschen aus Spanien, Chile und Argentinien. Es war sehr unterhaltsam und entspannend. Wunderbares Fruehstueck am naechsten Tag und Fortsetzung meiner Reise….
Von Paradies zu Paradies (Rio De Janeiro – Paraty)
Posted on | May 1, 2009 | 3 Comments
Nachdem Rafael die Einleitung gemacht hat, kam ich aus dem Staunen nicht mehr raus.
Nach diesen 3 Tagen fuehlte ich mich aber noch nicht bereit dazu, durch die neue Welt zu gehen. So landete ich auf der Couch von Eric und seiner Familie. Eric ist ein Amerikaner, der nun seit vier Jahren in Brasilien lebt.
Eine ebenfalls wunderbare Zeit. Eric hoerte meine Geschichten und erzaehlte seine. Er zeigte mir das typisch brasilianische Leben, den Basar, gab mir einige Geheimtipps, was Essen und Trinken angeht,…
Von ihm lernte ich das Leben in Brasilien etwas besser kennen, von Luciana, seiner Frau, die brasilianische Kirche und von Joshua, dem 2jaehrigem Sohn, die Sprache. Oft kam er mit einem Bilderbuch zu mir. Ich zeigte auf ein Bild und er sagte das Wort dazu. Kinder sind die besten Lehrer!
Eines Tages fragte mich Luciana, ob ich mir mal die Kirche ansehen moechte. Neugierig willigte ich ein.
Abends fuhren wir alle gemeinsam in die Kirche, die in einer der zahlreichen Favelas Rios stehen sollte.
Die Strasse war leer. Das einzige Licht, auf dem Weg zur Kirche, kam aus einem Haeuschen, das frueher wohl mal eine Garage gewesen ist. Doch nicht nur Licht kam aus diesem Haeuschen. Auch laute Musik und Stimmen feiernder Menschen. Wir parkten direkt an diesem Ort. “Oha, vor dem Kirchbesuch machen wir wohl einen Party-Abstecher”, dachte ich mir.
Wir gingen hinein. Weisse, Farbige, Schwarze, Kinder, Eltern, Grosseltern,… alles vertreten. Live-Musik, Tanz und Gesang. Laechelnde Gesichter. “Wer ist neu?”, fragte die Frau ganz vorn auf dem Podest. Unter ca. 60 Menschen erhob einer die Hand. Ich.
Und die Menge spricht: “Wilkommen in der Kirche. Gott segne Dich. Moegest Du immer wieder kommen.” Ich realisierte, wo ich war.
Es war eine bewegende Erfahrung, zu sehen, wie Menschen aus Favelas, Menschen die arm sind und fast nichts besitzen, so lachen, tanzen und singen koennen und das Leben feiern koennen und mein Herz fuer diese Menschen wuchs mit jeder Sekunde, mit der ich mich dort befand. Es war das erste mal in meinem Leben, dass ich mich in einer Kirche Gott naeher fuehlte, anstatt ferner.
Am naechsten Tag machte ich die ersten Schritte durch Brasilien.
Ich betrat die Strasse und machte mich auf den Weg zur Kueste. Dort laufe ich entlang, bis ich Santos erreicht habe. Ich fragte mich nach den ersten Schritten, was mich hier wohl erwarten wird. Die Antwort kam schnell: Ich richtete meine Augen auf den Boden und sah eine brasilianische Flagge vor meinen Fuessen. Diese haengt jetzt an meinem Rucksack.
Ich kam nach 35 km in Mangaratiba an. Ein traumhaftes Dorf, direkt an der Kueste. Meer, Berge, Waelder und freundliche Menschen, vereint an einem Punkt. Dieser Ort und eine sehr sympathische und interessante Person, namens Alexandre, hielt mich weitere 2 wunderbare Tage. Alexandre zeigte mir geniale Filme. Unter anderem zeigte er mit “The City Of God” und ich verstand zum ersten mal, was da in den Favelas Rios eigentlich los ist. Am letzten Tag, als ich, Alexandre und Luis, ein Kolumbianer, (ebenfalls eine wertvolle Begegnung. Dieser nahm mir die Angst vor Kolumbien) am Hafen des Dorfes sassen und ein gutes Essen genossen, hoerte ich Alexandre sagen: “gleich wird was in die Luft fliegen”. Mein Schluck Cola ist mir im Hals stecken geblieben, als eine Sekunde spaeter ein Boot, vielleicht 30 Meter von mir entfernt, mit einem lauten Knall und grossem Feuerinferno explodierte.
Nein, das sind keine Terroristen, und auch keine boesen Randale. Sylvester Stalone dreht hier “Den Missionaren”. Und da Sylvester Stalone in dem Film ist, muss natuerlich irgendwas in die Luft fliegen. Und ich war dabei!
Auf Empfehlung vieler Menschen, beschloss ich einen Abstecher zu Ilha Grande zu machen. Eine Insel, die “das Paradies” sein soll. Noch ein Paradies, dacht ich mir und stieg um 6 Uhr morgens ins Boot, das mich 1,5 Stunden spaeter auf die Insel transportierte. Und in der Tat: Es liegt Karibik-Atmosphaere in der Luft. Bildschoene Straende, klares, tuerkiesfarbenes Wasser, Palmen, kleine Jungles, und natuerlich (wie bisher ueberall) freundliche Menschen. Ich uebernachtete auf dem Camping-Platz und nahm am naechsten Morgen das Schiff nach Angre dos Reis, wo mich Camila, eine brasilianische Buddhistin empfing und einen Tag beherbergte. Wir quatschten, tauschten Chant-Erfahrungen aus und gingen abends feiern.
Am folgenden Morgen ging ich weiter. Ich wanderte bis Sonnenuntergang und erreichte ein winziges Dorf, mit einer Bar. An dieser hielt ich an und fragte, ob ich im Hof mein Zelt aufstellen koennte. Der freundliche Barbesitzer willigte ein, als ich erklaerte, dass es nur fuer diese Nacht sei. Ein spanischsprechender Brasilianer sprach mich an und wir kamen ins Gespraech. Ich erzaehlte ihm von meiner Reise und er lud mich zu sich nach Hause ein. Es wurde dunkel. Wir gingen ungefaehr 5 Kilometer in einen kleinen Jungle hinein und ich kam in einem weiteren Paradies an…
Der Jungle. Wortwoertlich! Exotische Pflanzen und Fruechte, Fluesse, Seen, Wasserfaelle, Felsen, Geraeusche von seltsamen Tieren aus den Bueschen und Baeumen. Und mitten in diesem wunderbaren Gewusel aus Leben, stehen Haeueser, erbaut aus Fels. Eine ganze Anlage, bestehend aus Jungle-Material. Zwischen Felsen, Seen, Palmen und Wasserfaellen, auf verschiedenen Anhoehen, in einer Lichtung stehend.
Reanalto, der Mann, der mich zu diesem Ort fuehrte, stellt mir einen Freund vor. “Das hat er erbaut”.
Ein kleiner, aelterer Mann, vielleicht zwischen 50 und 60, mit einer unbeschreiblichen Vitalitaet und Klarheit in den Augen, einem stillen, friedlichen Laecheln und innerer Ruhe. Der Gedanke, dass dieses Werk von Haenden einer einzigen Person erbaut worden ist, ist umwerfend. Schockierend. Gaensehauterregend. Ich wurde herumgefuehrt und bestaunte das Paradies. Sah Gaerten; Baumblaetter, die groesser waren, als ich; Wasserfaelle, die von einer Anhoehe fielen, die zu Baechen wurden, musterlinien zogen, sich in einem See (auch als Pool benutzbar) vereinigten und auf der anderen Seite wieder als Wasserfaelle eine weitere Anhoehe hinunterfielen. Ein wunderbarer Anblick, vorallem von der Haengematte aus, auf der hoechsten Ebene.
Auf dem Weg zu meinem Schlafplatz sah ich noch eines, das ich nicht so schnell vergessen werde: Eine Spinne, groesser als meine Hand, ruhte gemuetlich auf dem Boden, direkt vor dem Gebaeude, wo ich schlafen sollte. Ich nenne sie die Stoertebecker-Spinne. Und gleich wird man wissen, warum: Reanaltos Freund, noch immer ein Laecheln im Gesicht, zog seine Machete und zeteilte die Spinne mit einem Hieb in 2 Haelften. Die Spinne schien davon recht unbeeindrckt und ihre vordere Haelfte rannte einfach mit den noch dran haengenden Beinen weiter. Und noch immer nach dem zweiten Hieb. Erst, als sie in Scheiben geschnitten worden war, gab sie Ruhe.
An diesem Abend plauderte ich mit Reanalto ueber Gott und die Welt. Wir tranken Wein, tauschten Geschichten und Erfahrungen aus und genossen die Natur um uns herum. Ich verabschiedete mich am naechsten Morgen und setzte meine Wanderschaft fort.
35 Km ging ich, bis zu einem kleinen Dorf, wo ich mein Zelt aufstellte, und weitere 35 am Tag danach. Ich kam in Paraty an und traf Michel, einen franzoesischen Seemann, der in seinem Segelschiff, an der Bucht dieser ebenfalls traumhaften Kleinstadt lebt.
Hier bin ich nun, pausiere zwei Tage, geniesse die Menschen (aus aller Welt) in diesem Dorf, die Altstadt, die Kueste, den Strand, das warme Meereswasser, die Sonne Michels Gesellschaft und sein Seegelschiff, auf dem ich diese zwei Tage wohne und schlafe.
Andrej an Bord der "Horizonte Azul"
Michel, Seemann und Host
Erste Wahrnehmungen (Rio De Janeiro)
Posted on | April 19, 2009 | 1 Comment
Rafael verliess morgens das Haus. Zuvor sagte er mir, dass die Gegend garnicht so gefaehrlich ist, wie die alle sagen. Man hoere zwar jeden Tag Schuesse vor der Haustuer, sollte sich aber davon nicht abschrecken lassen.
Na dann ist ja alles in Ordnung, dachte ich mir.
Irgendwann ging ich auf die Strasse um mir von dem bisschen Reales, die ich noch hatte, etwas zu essen zu kaufen. Ich ging um 2 Ecken und beobachtete: Die Menschen sind alle fast kleidungslos. Selten eine weisse Haut zu sehn. Die Luft sehr feucht und riecht ganz anders. Man “schwitzt” auch dann, wenn es nicht heiss ist. Ich komme an einer Art Cafe an und setz mich draussen an die Tische. Ich trinke einen Kaffee, esse ein Broetchen und schon bald setzt sich eine brasilianische Familie (Vater, Mutter, Tochter, Sohn) einen Tisch weiter. Wir kommen ins Gespraech. Ich bitte den Vater, mir von diesem Land zu erzaehlen. Er erzaehlte los. Ich habe leider nur Bruchstuecke verstanden (Drogen, Banden, Schiesserei, Kokain, Polizei, gefaehrlich, boese, Morde, schoene Straende, warmes Wetter). Ich denke ich habe die Essenz verstanden und drehte mir auch sogleich eine Zigarette. Die um mich herum stehenden Leute wurden aufmerksam und beaeuegelten mich. Da riefen die Kinder sowas wie: “wow, schau mal er baut sich die selber”. Der Vater fragte, ob ich ihm zeigen koennte, wie das geht. Ich fuehrte nochmal vor und er lud mich zum Bier ein. Ein grosser, schwarzer Mann setzte sich an den Tisch: “Kannst du mir das auch zeigen?”. Voellig fasziniert schaute er mir beim drehen zu. Tatsaechlig hatte hier keiner Tabak zum selbst-drehen. Dies scheint hier recht unbekannt zu sein. Alle rauchen sie Filterzigaretten. Ich unterhielt mich ein wenig mit den Leuten. Vor allem aber waren die Kinder interessiert: “Wie heisst du? Woher kommst du? Sprichst du unsere Sprache nicht? Du siehst aus wie Michael Jacson”, usw.
Nach einer kleinen, netten Unterhaltung ging ich zum Supermarkt gegenueber und kaufte mir ein Paket Nudeln, die im Uebrigen furchtbar schmecken (im Gegensatz zu den Bananen).
Am Abend ueberlegte ich mir, wie ich hier mit einem Outdoor-Wanderrucksack aus Europa durchwandern soll, ohne entfuehrt oder ausgeraubt zu werden. Maschinengewehrschuesse. Irgendwo in der Nachbarschaft. Ich ging schlafen.
Am naechsten Tag werde ich wieder von Schuessen geweckt. Rafael ist auch wach und sitzt seelenruhig am PC. Ich gehe auf den Hof. Wieder Schuesse zu hoeren. Sogar Explosionen von Granaten. Schreie, Aufruhr und Huperei. Ich gehe hinein zu Rafael: “Bist du sicher, dass es hier sicher ist?”, “Joa”, antwortete er gelassen.
“Also wenn ich jetzt rausgehe, werde ich nicht erschossen?”, “Neeein, hier auf keinen Fall. Die Gegend ist ruhig und sicher”, sagt Rafael zeitgleich mit den wieder erklingenden Schuessen und Granatenexplosionen…
Ich mache eine Kopfbewegung zum Fenster und deute auf den Laerm.
“Ach das? Das sind nur Feuerwerkskoerper. Draussen wird gefeiert. Wir haben die Tage Fussball-Nationalmeisterschaften. Heute ist Finale und die Leute sind aus dem Haeuschen. Kommst du mit das Spiel gucken?”
Am naechsten Tag wollte ich mir Brasilien ansehen um zu sehen, wie es wirklich ist. Bin also mit Rafael in die Stadt. Und was ich dort erlebt habe, ist in Worte kaum beschreibbar.
Wir wanderten durch die Stadt. Kleine und grosse Einkaufsstrassen mit unglaublich guenstigen Produkten. Rafael fragte mich, wie ich denn ohne Geld wandern koennte. Ich erzaehlte ihm, von meiner “Pilgerschaft” im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes. “Das kannst du hier vergessen”, sagt er. “Die Leute hier klammern sich um jeden Cent. Es ist nie genug Geld da, um jemandem helfen zu koennen. Mit Glueck aber etwas zu Essen”.
Und in der Tat: Die Menschen auf dem Markt tun alles, um irgendwie an Geld zu kommen. Einige spielen das Huetchenspiel, andere versuchen kaputte T-Shirts zu verkaufen, andere singen und wieder andere laufen im Kreis und klatschen in die Haende. Kein Versuch, so sinnlos er auch scheint, wird ausgelassen, um Geld zu verdienen. Leute, die Fleier verteilen, rennen dir teilweise hinterher, damit du ihren Fleier nimmst.
Wir kommen am Strand an. Copacabana und Ipanema gehoeren zu den beruehmtesten Straenden der Welt.
Andrej + Schuhe
Andrej am Strand Ipanema
Andrej und Rafael
Am Nachmittag ging es in den waldigen Bereich von Rio De Janeiro. “Der Zuckerhut”.
Ich betrat den “kleinen Jungle” und staunte ueber die Natur, die Lianen, neuartige Flora und Fauna, die Art und Weise wie Baeume und Pflanzen wachsen, neue Farben und Formen. Wie ein kleines Kind rannte ich durch diesen kleinen Jungle, immer bergauf, huepfte ueber Busch und Fels, kletterte an Baeumen und Kletterpflanzen hoch und beobachtete fasziniert die hier lebende Natur.
Affe (?)
Ich huepfte weiter. “Schau da”, sagte Rafael, “Wir nennen es <Blumenkuss>”, ich schaute auf den Punkt, auf den Rafael deutete und traute meinen Augen nicht, als ich das erste mal in meinem Leben meinen Lieblingsvogel hautnah sah. Der kleine Kolibri, halb so gross, wie mein Daumen, schnappte sich ein vor sich kriechendes Insekt und flog in blitzartigen Zickzack-Bahnen direkt an mein Gesicht heran. 2 atemberaumbende Sekunden schwebte er in Augenhohe, 20 cm vor mir, bevor er auf die gleiche, blitzartige Zickzackweise mit seinem Mittagessen verschwand.
Auf dem kleinem Berg angekommen staunte ich ueber den Blick auf Rio De Janeiro.
Rio De Janeiro
Direkt vor mir der sogenannte Zuckerhut:
Andrej. Der Zuckerhut im Hintergund
Und nicht zu vergessen, eines der neuen 7 Weltwunder: Die Christus-Statue Rios.
Christ der Erloeser
Ein Tag, an dem ich so viel zu bestaunen hatte, wie seit Jahrzehnten nicht mehr.