tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585915543932298732012-02-16T05:17:40.756-04:00traveling in the small world out there <img src="http://www.world66.com/community/mymaps/worldmap/BEBFBGBNBOJMJOBRBSBYBZRUTMROGTGHOMHTHUHNUYPEPHPLZMEEEGZAITVNETZWESMAUZMMMKUKMYMXMZFRFININLNONANGNPCHCOCLCACDCZCRSZSYKGKEKHSVSKKZSASGSESDDODKDEUSYUTZLCLATTTRTPLVLTLUTJTHTGVAAEVEISALAOARAUATINLBIDQA.gif"><br>Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-38536689645081543142011-11-20T16:01:00.000-04:002011-11-27T11:14:29.289-04:00

Easter Island - or Rapa Nui, in the local language - is perhaps the most isolated inhabited island on Earth, almost half-way between Chile (3,700 km to the East) and Tahiti (4,200 km to the West). One might assume that it could be the stage for native, endogenous, unique species of fauna or flora, like Australia, or where animals behave unafraid of humans, like the Galapagos. Instead it's

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0Easter Island, Chile-27.1211919 -109.3664237-27.573439399999998 -109.9981377 -26.6689444 -108.7347097tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-37659517597508437042011-10-22T12:08:00.002-03:002011-10-22T12:10:51.349-03:00

After a vicious breakup I feel compelled to reach for the mountains and put my act together, heal the wounds through strenuous hiking while breathing thin, pure air.  Well, it was not exactly like that. The breakup was not nasty at all - not even dramatic - and the trekking in the Himalayas had already been planned. All the same, as I slowly make my way eastwards, long flights, long waits, I

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-48543107552388852332011-05-31T21:02:00.000-03:002011-09-11T14:28:22.527-03:00

Is a text really necessary? The sand, the sea Los Roques, Venezuela  The sea, the scenery Fernando de Noronha, Brazil

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-27399508033076281852011-01-05T13:12:00.000-04:002011-09-12T19:19:20.281-03:00

Tragedy on the second day. I slip while crossing a stream and fall in the water. I don't get hurt but my clothes are all wet and my camera, which was in my pant's pocket, and not in the inside pocket of my waterproof jacket, gets wet too. The pictures I'd already taken are saved in my iPad, as there was no damage to the SD card. But the camera is dead, kaput, no matter

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-82982283163393081162010-02-08T12:14:00.005-04:002010-02-08T13:39:32.595-04:00

I took someone else's suitcase by mistake when I arrived in Brazil in January. It was a first, after hundreds of flights. I had never seen a suitcase exactly like mine on the luggage belt before and I was about to miss my flight to Ribeirão Preto. Ok, I know it's unexcusable to grab someone elses's bag. Anyways, I open my suitcase when I'm already at my parent's home and think: why would the

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-16760328688851481512009-08-19T00:13:00.013-03:002009-08-19T03:56:54.339-03:00

A friend, upon learning I was abroad recently, asked if I've been somewhere exotic. I replied: - Yes, Switzerland. It was my first time there and yes, it was one of the most exotic places I've been to.Switzerland is an old city on a lake surrounded by mountains. It's the perfect fairy tale,postcard destination. How's that for exotic?And it's very rich, but not in an overly conspicuous way.

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-79383943991861731992009-04-28T22:14:00.007-03:002009-04-30T18:35:56.261-03:00

Uzbekistan, from all places, seems to be the destination of choice of retiring Brazilian soccer stars. World champion Rivaldo plays in Buniadkor, the team from Tashkent. Zico trained the team at some point.But even more than Ronaldo and Ronaldinho and whatever "Rs" Uzbeks can come up with, it’s the Brazilian soap opera that really connects Brazil to Central Asia. There is a facination for us,

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-43833338041785003642009-04-28T21:19:00.020-03:002009-04-30T18:32:35.809-03:00

Almaty, Bishkek, Tashkent, Brasília. Sister cities. Low, long buildings; solid, geometric structures; long, wide avenues; parks and trees galore; far from the sea. You’ve seen one: you’ve seen all. Well, not quite so. There are always surprises.The luxuriously designed lounges in Almaty (design furniture, international cuisine, vodka, live singers, beauties dancing on the counter). Almaty, the "

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-4027059775272985122009-04-28T19:22:00.034-03:002009-04-30T18:52:35.281-03:00

One of the best aspects of traveling abroad is the possibility of overcoming prejudices and stereotypes through a first hand contact with the places and people along the way; of being surprised by how the world is richer and more complex than previously expected. I was surprised, for instance, to know that the cap on the head of my driver-cum-guide-cum-travel companion in Kyrgyzstan wasn’t a

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-84347965798306100252009-04-10T02:53:00.010-03:002009-04-30T10:59:23.967-03:00

The most common cliche about Istanbul must be the one on its many dichotomies. I would never pretend to know the city well, after being there only two times in a total of 10 days. But from a timid peek, one can already tell that it's a different place. Not in the "all places are different somehow" way, but in a "je ne sais quoi" way that is hard to explain. I might have been influenced by some

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-88724277277443525262009-03-10T23:31:00.015-03:002009-04-10T02:26:12.707-03:00

Something keeps me coming back to the Middle East. I still didn't reflect upon it. I usually prefer to wait and let things sit or sink and then try to understand them emotionally rather than rationally. But let's stop the autopsychoanalysis!There's something in the Middle East that really appeals to me. Many things, to say the truth. But these many things are easy to conjure: the delicious (and

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-44639772786613587302008-04-19T03:33:00.004-03:002008-04-19T03:48:39.882-03:00

(1) - Hello, Sir.- Hello.- Are you Indian, Sir?- No. - You look like Indian, Sir.- Oh, I'm trying to. But tell me.- Yes, Sir?- Why did you start talking to me in English and not in Hindi and called me Sir?- Uhmmm... (then he looks kind of lost, mutter a few words and disappears as soon as he realizes I'll not buy anything or follow him anywhere). (2)- Hello, Sir.- Hi.- Are you Indian, Sir?- Nope.

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-79992632980439754852008-04-14T19:03:00.013-03:002009-03-13T01:55:06.390-03:00

This site deserves a peek for its amazing videos of harsh landings on the world't most dangerous airports: http://www.otbeach.com/news/airlines-and-airports--1/top-10-most-dangerous-aircraft-landings-in-the-world--418.htmlI haven't been in such a flight or really bad turbulence but it really looks fun. I guess I could call my bungee jump in Victoria Falls in June 2006 a flight though. No fuselage

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-75018719373965898822008-04-14T18:42:00.007-03:002008-04-15T16:10:01.505-03:00

Este poema foi deixado pela Verinha, minha irmãzinha adotada, em um dos comentários. Mas merece ser trazido à página principal:(Viajar! Perder países!)de Fernando PessoaViajar! Perder países!Ser outro constantemente,Por a alma não ter raízesDe viver de ver somente!Não pertencer nem a mim!Ir em frente, ir a seguirA ausência de ter um fim,E a ânsia de o conseguir!Viajar assim é viagemMas faço-o sem

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-33914796865530376052008-04-14T17:33:00.010-03:002009-03-13T01:32:47.311-03:00

A lot is said and written about the nightmare air travel has become. I had my share of delays, tough and tiring layovers, even some lost pieces of luggage. I had a 36-hour flight in a military airplane, making 6 stops along the way to the other side of the world and barely having more than 2 hours for some light sleep between one and another stop.But I'd rather recall a nice experience I once had

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-1098308981164262382008-04-14T13:41:00.007-03:002009-03-11T02:58:46.470-03:00

Something quite difficult when I consider travelling abroad is to find a friend: (1) interested in going to the same place I want to go; (2) available to travel in the same period I am free. In one of the few times these conditions were in place, I spent a great three weeks on the beach near Salvador and Praia do Forte and in Jericoacoara. A lot of time just chilling out, sunbathing, drinking

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-61531581005616486322008-04-09T17:35:00.005-03:002009-04-30T18:40:53.211-03:00

This one happened in August last year, on a train between Cracow and Warsaw, in Poland.I ask this girl about a magazine lying on the bench in the train cabin. I ask in English and she replies in English. A conversation ensues. Upon learning I was Brazilian, she asks if I knew Elizabeth Bishop, the American poet who lived for many years in Rio de Janeiro. I not only knew her; she was the author of

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-35167360642408066712008-04-09T16:29:00.013-03:002009-04-30T18:48:17.065-03:00

- Please open your bag. Yes.- What are these bars, chocolate? Yes.- Please, open one. Yes.- Where are you going to? Macedonia.- What for? Tourism. - There's nothing to see there. That's what the Bulgarian border officer said after checking thoroughly what was inside my backpack. Every passenger had to leave the bus with its bags. The bus was searched and all the bags put on a table and opened.

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-69112135898097998162008-04-08T07:57:00.016-03:002009-04-29T11:11:28.688-03:00

When I was a teen in my hometown, an average-size city in the State of São Paulo, it was common for people around my age to try and spend one or two years abroad and return back to the old life in that industrial, moderately crazy town. Favored destinations were the US, the UK and Australia, where one could improve his English and be exposed to a somewhat different life style in a developed

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1958591554393229873.post-50691140108472355502008-04-07T16:40:00.009-03:002009-04-28T17:59:48.089-03:00

Now that I created my own blog, I feel a slight sense of entitlement, of belonging to the Big Virtual World. I have an email account since 1994, but didn't venture much into the net's fare, like podcasting, blogging and the like. And I still remember writing and receiving letters. Today, the regular mail sadly functions only for propaganda and bills.I remember I felt a similar sense of

Rodrigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05141926193690543242noreply@blogger.com1