24 Feb 2014 Belem, Brazil

Belem, Province of Para, Brazil

Belem is situated on the Guama River, which belongs to the Amazon Delta. It is hidden behind a large island, where the river has silted up so much that no large ships can reach it anymore. The Prinsendam anchored off shore at Icoarachi, a small town an hour’s drive downriver from Belem.

Welcome to Belem...

The waters are brown and silty, clumps of greenery float along the current, and the air is laden with moisture and an aroma of muddy dampness. A few swallows visit the ship.

Washed out steps...

We tendered ashore to take a shuttle bus to Belem.

Low tide -  ferries, fishing boats and small barges all rested on the garbage strewn muddy beach. Icoarachi appeared to have suffered from serious flooding earlier, as stone staircases from the landing dock to street level were washed out and the small shore-side banks were eroded, half dried rivers of mud demarcated sidewalks from street. We all clambered up make shift wooden stairs to reach street level.

The bus was filled with an acrid odor apparently emanating from the aft ‘bano’, which made one’s eyes water; the hour drive seemed longer as everyone was trying to hold their breath for the duration.

Destination was Belem Centro at Estacao das Docas , a series of converted shore side warehouses rendered obsolete after river silt up. The bus dropped us here and people took a deep breath of air less pungent than onboard, and one could  walk the last few hundred yards to the city centre in the comfort of air-conditioning.

 I braved the late morning heat and walked along the regular sidewalk and enjoyed my first taste of Belem.

Belem had its major economic  boom during the rubber era in the late 19^th century and remnants of colonial and rubber boom buildings line the streets of old Belem Central. Most are fighting a losing battle against tropical humidity  and ever invasive vegetation, never mind ever present graffiti. The city has over a million inhabitants, many live in a forest of high-rises in the newer parts of the city, an immense number of them live in seemingly endlessly stretching favelas and slums.

After a short walk from the drop off point, one reaches the largest indoor/outdoor market of Brazil, the Mercado Ver-O-Peso.  The indoor part consist of a turreted building, the outdoor part of a large tent city (to provide shade and shelter from frequent tropical downpours) where offerings range from freshly prepared food, live ducklings and parakeets, as well as rabbits and chickens, to home remedies by the truckload, heaps and heaps of Cashew and Para nuts (better known as Brazil nuts) spices, fruits, vegetables etc. etc. etc.  in addition to ‘arts and crafts’ for tourist consumption.

Equatorial sun was steam-baking everything around. I made it to the old fishing harbour, adjacent to the Mercado. Still being low tide, all the boats were beached here as well. Instead of being surrounded by yellow river water, they were surrounded by hundreds of black vultures, who scavenged amongst the garbage and carcasses of dead fish and herons. Dozens of white herons stalked amongst their black relatives looking for tasty morsels for themselves.

Circumnavigating the square beside the harbour, I made my way toward Forte de Presepio, an edifice dating back to Belem’s foundation in 1616. Traces of the old splendour of Belem could be seen in more or less well reconstructed edifices. Forte Castelo was one of the first buildings constructed by Castello Branco, and now houses a museum for Amerindian ethnic culture. There is also the first church of Belem, Santo Alexandre, and the Palacio Episcopal, the Bishop’s Palace.

Retracing my steps I returned to the open air market, which had burst into pre carnival warm up celebration with dancing and drumming. Good time to take a break from the heat, and watch the performers and cool down with a local brew.

Carneval 'Dress'

The return shuttle bus was of a newer edition, not only did the air conditioning work – but there was no offensively pungent odor. However, there was standing room only for the last passengers who climbed in, I being one of them.

As soon as the bus arrived back at the tender pier, the heavens opened up to remind us of ‘tropical rainforest’ weather conditions. Dozens of fire-hoses cold not have done a more thorough job of drowning the streets, pedestrians and motorbikers.

Anything will serve as an umbrella

Refuge from the rain...

Drying up for new guests...

Diving into a corner pub – the only thing with open doors within sprinting distance – and waiting it out, seemed to be the most sensible option.

Tide was in again, and some locals took their afternoon swim on the off side of the pier, where no fishing boats nor too obvious garbage were cluttering the beach.

On the business side of the pier small boats vied for position, and loaded/ off loaded their goods and passengers. There is not a single bridge over the Amazon along its entire length; all traffic is conducted via water craft.

Bit of smoke....

Tender pier at high tide

Gone Swimming

'Second in Command'

Kids and their cell phones  - even on the Amazon...

Our anchors aweigh moment was delayed, as a medical evacuation needed to be completed before it. A local small motorized wooden barge had tied up alongside the tender hatch of Prinsendam. A couple of suitcases disappeared down the hatch of the small boat, officials with cell phones moved about, and finally a man in a wheelchair – our disabled evacuee from the ship – was hoisted on the small bow of the barge. There, a couple of people held onto the wheelchair, as the boat took off across the river, now plunged into darkness. The patient/passenger had a new take on water ambulance, occupying a prime seat on the spray prone bow, and being taken to a hospital or airport.

The ship headed back out into the Atlantic, to circumnavigate the island located in front of Belem and re-enter the Amazon further north. For a day we were back in blue water – last chance to fill the ships water tanks with desalinated water. Once in the Amazon, the desalination plant will be disabled, as the silty waters plug up the plant’s filters. Water restrictions are in force until we return to the open sea.

22 Feb 2014 Fortaleza, Brazil

Old Jail converted into an arts and crafts market

Fortaleza - City of Happioness

Downtown  High Rise Canyons

Canyon City would be an appropriate description of Fortaleza, as it looks like Miami on steroids: flat land from which rise hundreds of sky scrapers, before the city fizzles out into low rises around the colonial/historic sector of the city. It differentiates itself from Miami I suppose, as in Fortaleza slum areas are freely interspersed with modern and obviously expensive condo and office buildings.

Visitors usually make their way to historic Fortaleza instead the ‘modern’ one, starting their sweaty walking tour somewhere near an old colonial style jail, whose cells are now art and craft stalls, and whose inner courtyards house a few soft drink kiosks.

From there one may wander toward the central square, with a relatively modern cathedral at one end, ruins of a fort at the opposite end, and a giant multistoried Central Mercado at a third. The rest of the surrounding is made up of sidewalk stores and an overpass, which serves as shade and sleeping quarters for beggars and homeless people.

Lace and Crochet

Home Brews and home remedies

Performers at the entrance of Mercado Central

Sidewalk stores....

Sidewalk scene

On the square itself, vendors have marked their daily spot with crayons – early morning has some of them ready to do trade, others just starting to spread their wares, and others still catching a last shut eye before business wakes up.

The Cathedral is open. Its stark neo gothic interior is magically lit by dozens of magnificent stained glass windows, which glow like giant jewels in brilliant blues, oranges, yellows and reds as the sun brings them to light.

The market, famous for Fortaleza lace and plentiful offerings of cashew and Brazil (Para) nuts, is already overflowing with shoppers. Dolls, carvings, baskets, every kind of garment – lace or otherwise -, license plates, t-shirts, shoes, sandals, pots and pans, tacky souvenirs, a plethora of home remedies made from multitudes of Amazonias secret ingredients – make up just a small part of the varied goods on sale.

A winding ramp leads to upper stories, which I did not visit, and food stalls line the outskirts of every floor.

Outside it seemed like chaos to the uninitiated eye – thousands of people going about their business amongst hundreds of stalls, where commerce was lively – hard to find a path amongst the throng.

I made it to an arts and culture centre a few blocks away,  called Dragoa do Mar, Dragon of the Sea, a man who was decisive in abolishing slave trade and ownership in Fortaleza.

The centre is made up of a wide collection of modern buildings amongst a few remnants of old Fortaleza buildings, with multihued fronts and shady squares. The centre was practically deserted, not a gallery nor shop open for business, and performing arts venues without advertising posters – it seemed somewhat out of daily use.

As it was shortly before midday by now, the equatorial sun beat down mercilessly, no other ‘attractions’ in walking distance, I headed back to the drop off point of the ship’s shuttle bus, the arts and crafts jail, previously mentioned.

I imagined that a walk along the shore would be a pleasant way to return, however, the shoreward road soon finished up in one of the infamous Favelas, slums, where local inhabitants waved from the murky alleys lined with decrepit or semi-finished hovels, to indicate that I better get out of there in a hurry – not wanted here, that was for sure. Caution being the better way to go, I did just that and made a quick turn about, and trudged along the hot and broken sidewalk back to Fortaleza civilization, crossing to the other side of the street when I encountered a ‘gardener’ chopping away at some bushes with a huge machete.

Crossing the street in Fortaleza, especially this part of the city – historic – is somewhat suicidal; drivers will not stop for pedestrians – local or stranger alike.

I found a pleasant shore side park, adjoining the market jail, which seems to double as a family excursion destination on weekends. Being Saturday, locals and ship passengers congregated underneath the huge shade giving trees and filled a couple of hundred tables, which were served by a gazebo style restaurant with food and drink. Good place to catch one’s breath and enjoy a real capiringha/beer/snack. A duo of guitar and local ‘mandolin’ played Brazilian music and thus added to an enjoyable couple of hours of Fortaleza.

I did not visit nor stop in the sky scraper area of Fortaleza, which may have more similarities with other cities of a million or so inhabitants. Fortaleza’s beaches are lined with high rise hotels in that area of the city, however, bathing in this part of the Atlantic is not recommended, as pollution extends across the width of the beaches.

Park Cafe and Restaurant

Slum on a hill side

So – back to the ship with my haul of Brazil Nuts, which should suffice as pre dinner snack to accompany a glass of wine? Talking about wine – Brazil is definitely NOT a wine country, but their local beer is a delicious thirst quencher when gasping in steamy tropical heat.

Statue in Shore Side Park