Although we started our adventure in a 15-seater van, we were driving through the bumpy streets of Manaus, located in the middle of the Amazon forest, in the State of Amazonas, Brasil. Much of the forest is preserved in this area, unlike in neighboring Para State or in other countries where the rainforest has suffered at the hands of loggers. We are also lucky to be located just a few kilometers from the Amazon River; closest to us is the Rio Negro, which merges with the Rio Solimões an hour down river from the Manaus Port where we boarded our big tour boat. The Rio Solimões and the Rio Amazonas is one and the same river, and one can follow the Amazon from the Atlantic Ocean as it turns into the Rio Solimões near Manaus and cruise upstream all the way to Peru in a large ship, no problem. However, the main feature of our trip was to travel down the black Rio Negro about an hour until the two rivers meet, where the two colors stand out in obvious contrast; the cloudy water of the Solimões--at a different temperature, density and speed to the Nego--running along side-by-side for miles. Our boat chugged along on this "line" for 20 minutes as everyone looked on slack-jawed at the scene for a moment before rushing to take pictures on the back deck. At one point, we were lucky to see a boto river dolphin, and although he was too quick for everyone's cameras, everyone on the boat marveled to see him jump out of the Amazon and head off into the dark waters of the Rio Negro.
As the tour continued, we stopped at a floating dock and took a 10 minute walk to see the giant Victoria waterlilies that sprout in the Amazon every March. At this time of year, the large, round lily pads--which can grow up to 3 meters in diameter--bore no flowers for us to gaze, but were impressive nonetheless. Afterwards, we boarded small 10-seater canoes and proceeded to travel down a small channel into a flooded forest area of the Amazon. Half the year the area is dry land, and from July the waters rise and flood the forest floor, turning it into a swamp where, at night, alligators roam and schools of piranha swarm; luckily, in the early afternoon, neither of these were to be found. On the way back to the floating dock, after buying a fresh coconut with two straws poking out of it, we grabbed the front seats on the canoe and sipped the coconut water as we zipped back through the flooded forest, the canoe operator dodging rubber trees with expertise.
Back at the floating dock, we walked past a pool containing two large pirarucu. They were large for freshwater fish, that is. For pirarucu, they were practically babies, only measuring a meter or so in length and weighing, we were told, about 25 kilograms, or 55 pounds. Pirarucu is one of the largest freshwater fish in the world and frequently grow up to 2 meters in length and over 100kg. We also found out, a few minutes later, that they taste delicious when breaded and fried! We were served a huge buffet lunch consisting of lots of veggies, but also massive servings of pirarucu, tucunare and tambaqui fillets--we took heaping helping of each and devoured it all.
Full from Amazonian cuisine and exploring--not to mention a couple glasses of Skol beer I had with lunch--we couldn't help but snooze for a bit on the big boat back to the port of Manaus. Our day had been truly amazing and will be one to remember.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Brazilian Rules Football
I was talking with one of the local consultants here yesterday, and he asked me how I liked Brazil. I told him I was having a good time, and I even played <s>soccer<s/> football with some guys last Saturday. He told me that a lot of times in Brazil, they make a rule that each time you get a yellow card penalty, you have to pay R$10, and for a red card they make you pay R$50. This way they can control the fouls people might be tempted to make. He said this system also works to "make things interesting" because a team will usually put R$100 into the pot for a Sunday tournament. They play against a bunch of teams, and the team at the end wins the pot. Maybe each player on the winning team can get about R$100 (about US$50) for playing football on a Sunday. The short game I played last Saturday was much more casual than this, but I could see how, in a more serious game, they would need some "incentive" to keep people from letting things get out of hand.
Grammar Point
The other day, as I went to the airport with our driver Monteiro, we were trying to converse in Portuguese and English, as usual. I had a few questions of Portuguese words I keep seeing and asked Monteiro, and then we were using the dictionary in the car to look stuff up. As we talked, he told me that Portuguese grammar is very difficult, and if he couldn't give the right answer in school when he was a kid the teacher would make him hold out his hand and then she'd smack it with a ruler until he got the answer right. He said he got his hand smacked so many times, now his Portuguese grammar is pretty good. I laughed, but was thinking, "Wow, that's terrible." Maybe Monteiro could see it in my eyes, because then he told me, "But if teacher does now. No. Call police. Teacher hold out hand," and motioned that, instead, the teacher would get punished.
The Botu Man
This weekend we plan to take the Amazon River tour to see where the Rio Negro and the Rio Solimoes come together to form the Amazon. The two rivers are different colors--black and yellow--different temperatures and different densities, so the contrast is apparent before they mix for some 6 kilometers.
Today I was speaking with one of our tech support staff, Monica, and she told me that you can see the river dolphins, botu, jumping back and forth from the black side to the yellow side. But she said she is scared of botu dolphins, because they are "wild animals" they are unpredictable and she would be scared to swim with them because they could drag you off down the river. I asked Monica if there were any incidents like that and she said she didn't know if the stories were true or not.
Then she told me there was one story about botu though. When a woman in Brazil is pregnant and doesn't want to say who the father is, she will sometimes say, "The father is Botu." Apparently, as lore would have it, on full moon nights a botu can appear as a very handsome man, dress up, come onto land, and then romance women. They are supposedly very good dancers, and they will lure women to the river, and then take them away. The women will come back pregnant with the Botu man's baby. So Monica said when she was younger, she would check the top of any good looking man's head to make sure he didn't have a "hole for resperation". "I don't go dance with man who has hole in top of his head," she declared.
Today I was speaking with one of our tech support staff, Monica, and she told me that you can see the river dolphins, botu, jumping back and forth from the black side to the yellow side. But she said she is scared of botu dolphins, because they are "wild animals" they are unpredictable and she would be scared to swim with them because they could drag you off down the river. I asked Monica if there were any incidents like that and she said she didn't know if the stories were true or not.
Then she told me there was one story about botu though. When a woman in Brazil is pregnant and doesn't want to say who the father is, she will sometimes say, "The father is Botu." Apparently, as lore would have it, on full moon nights a botu can appear as a very handsome man, dress up, come onto land, and then romance women. They are supposedly very good dancers, and they will lure women to the river, and then take them away. The women will come back pregnant with the Botu man's baby. So Monica said when she was younger, she would check the top of any good looking man's head to make sure he didn't have a "hole for resperation". "I don't go dance with man who has hole in top of his head," she declared.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saturday Night Football
Last night I was lucky enough to be taken out to the local soccer football club with Monteiro, our driver, to play futsol. We arrived a little before 8pm and there was a game just winding down. The field was full size, outdoors, but completely enclosed in netting. We sat down and put on a natural bug repellent cream that had Monteiro brought, which left my skin feeling cool and a bit tingly, but I didn't get a single mosquito bite, so I suppose it worked like a charm. Eventually, the game came to an end and we ran out to the field. They turn the lights off between games, but the club lights flooded enough light onto the field to see, so we practiced shooting goals. In no time, other guys arrived one by one until there were about six of us taking turns shooting goals. The guy playing goalie was extraordinarily agile and was diving, rolling and blocking most of the shots. Monteiro, who everyone called "Teiro", introduced me to everyone by name, but also added that I am American, so for the rest of the evening I was known as "American", but it worked for me. Teiro introduced me to one guy who spoke pretty good English, and I was told his name was Portugal.
As more guys arrived, I noticed a few guys weren't wearing any shoes. In particular, the guys who didn't wear shoes, as I found out as we began to play, were some of the best players. I suppose it gave them better control over the ball, but it didn't seem to slow them down at all, nor did it hinder the power in their goal shots. Even with bare feet, these guys could thwack the ball with great speed and accuracy toward the goal, although most of the time the goalies would fly through the air almost perpendicular to the ground and block the shot. So it soon became obvious to me that most of these guys were absolute football fanatics, even if they just played it for, quote-unquote, recreation. I later asked Armando, one of our tech staff at the office who arrived partway through the game, and he said most of these guys play every day, although not always at the club, but probably in the street, anywhere.
There was also a good dose of sportsmanship in the air, so there were no fights. A good balance was struck, as well, because each game ended as soon as one team scored two goals, and then people from the losing team would switch out with guys on the sidelines. So, as it turned out, you were constantly switching teams and playing with the guys you had been playing against before. Nevertheless, a few guys were adamant about fouls and fought for every chance for their team to get control over that ball, and I saw it as part of being a good player--the ref would occasionally have to give in.
I played offense most of the time, so I got quite a bit of exercise running up and down the field either with my team or to guard the other team. I didn't get any shots at the goal, but I passed alright and blocked a few passes by the other team. Not too bad for not having played since I was about 10 years old, but really, at the end of the day, these guys were playing to have a good time and, most of all, for their love of the sport.
After an hour or so, our time was up and most of the guys went home, while a few others hung around and had a beer and played at the billiard table in the clubhouse. Monteiro, Armando and I went back out on the field and I got some pointers on how to shoot and pass, how to make a high goal kick and how to keep it low and in the corner. But as it neared 10pm, we decided to call it an evening and head home. On the way out, I guzzled some water, collected my things and then, remembering I had brought my camera, we took a picture together. As you can see, I was looking pretty exhausted, but feeling good. But, Monteiro invited me back to play again next week if I wanted, and, well, I just might give it another shot.
As more guys arrived, I noticed a few guys weren't wearing any shoes. In particular, the guys who didn't wear shoes, as I found out as we began to play, were some of the best players. I suppose it gave them better control over the ball, but it didn't seem to slow them down at all, nor did it hinder the power in their goal shots. Even with bare feet, these guys could thwack the ball with great speed and accuracy toward the goal, although most of the time the goalies would fly through the air almost perpendicular to the ground and block the shot. So it soon became obvious to me that most of these guys were absolute football fanatics, even if they just played it for, quote-unquote, recreation. I later asked Armando, one of our tech staff at the office who arrived partway through the game, and he said most of these guys play every day, although not always at the club, but probably in the street, anywhere.
There was also a good dose of sportsmanship in the air, so there were no fights. A good balance was struck, as well, because each game ended as soon as one team scored two goals, and then people from the losing team would switch out with guys on the sidelines. So, as it turned out, you were constantly switching teams and playing with the guys you had been playing against before. Nevertheless, a few guys were adamant about fouls and fought for every chance for their team to get control over that ball, and I saw it as part of being a good player--the ref would occasionally have to give in.
I played offense most of the time, so I got quite a bit of exercise running up and down the field either with my team or to guard the other team. I didn't get any shots at the goal, but I passed alright and blocked a few passes by the other team. Not too bad for not having played since I was about 10 years old, but really, at the end of the day, these guys were playing to have a good time and, most of all, for their love of the sport.
After an hour or so, our time was up and most of the guys went home, while a few others hung around and had a beer and played at the billiard table in the clubhouse. Monteiro, Armando and I went back out on the field and I got some pointers on how to shoot and pass, how to make a high goal kick and how to keep it low and in the corner. But as it neared 10pm, we decided to call it an evening and head home. On the way out, I guzzled some water, collected my things and then, remembering I had brought my camera, we took a picture together. As you can see, I was looking pretty exhausted, but feeling good. But, Monteiro invited me back to play again next week if I wanted, and, well, I just might give it another shot.
(Armando, me, Monteiro)
Notes from the Mall
Yesterday afternoon I headed out to Manauara Shopping Center to get some lunch, browse around, and maybe do some shopping. I spent about four hours there and realized that "the mall" is a nice little microcosm of any city. There you can see a subset of so many demographics, i.e. the herds of teenage boys in the game center, the gaggles of teenage girls in the food court, the couples holding hands as they browse, the families, the elderly couple, and of course the tourists.
After walking through most of the first floor and surveying what was on offer, I headed up to the second floor and walked into a small botique clothing shop that sold some very cool looking jeans and shirts. The shop guy who was helping me couldn't speak English, but did his best to show me around. Eventually, an older woman (the manager, maybe) who spoke some English helped me decipher a few things. Mostly, by finding out where there was a tailor in the mall to hem the length on the jeans, which were much too long. I bought a very nice Brazilian brand of stonewashed jeans called Iodice, walked down to the first level and found the tailors. There, after they measured the hem, I was told to come back in 40 minutes. To confirm this, I ended up tapping the time into a calculator they had near the register, and the girl nodded her head, so I gave her a thumbs up, took the receipt and headed to the food court.
Again bypassing the hamburgers, I ended up going to a taco stand for their carne burrito, and another shop where I got a baked potato covered in a brown sauce, sprinkled with cheese and dabbed with sour cream. The 40 minutes passed by quickly and I could only eat half of my food, but then I headed to the tailor and my jeans were ready.
After a couple more stops--to a music shop, where I picked up a few CDs by Brazilian musicians, and a homewares store, where I picked up a little cup to use when brushing my teeth--I strolled back to the exit and the taxi stand. I showed a driver the card for my hotel that I have in my wallet, and ten minutes and $10 reais later I was back in the lobby.
I found the mall a pretty fun place to hang out, and although it's a little scary at first to try and shop without knowing Portuguese, it's the best way to get your feet wet and try and converse with people, using thumbs up, broken sentences, written notes and even calculators. And the best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new jeans, and I must say, they are by far the softest, most comfortable pair of jeans I have ever bought. I will likely be lounging in these for the better part of the remainder of my time here.
After walking through most of the first floor and surveying what was on offer, I headed up to the second floor and walked into a small botique clothing shop that sold some very cool looking jeans and shirts. The shop guy who was helping me couldn't speak English, but did his best to show me around. Eventually, an older woman (the manager, maybe) who spoke some English helped me decipher a few things. Mostly, by finding out where there was a tailor in the mall to hem the length on the jeans, which were much too long. I bought a very nice Brazilian brand of stonewashed jeans called Iodice, walked down to the first level and found the tailors. There, after they measured the hem, I was told to come back in 40 minutes. To confirm this, I ended up tapping the time into a calculator they had near the register, and the girl nodded her head, so I gave her a thumbs up, took the receipt and headed to the food court.
Again bypassing the hamburgers, I ended up going to a taco stand for their carne burrito, and another shop where I got a baked potato covered in a brown sauce, sprinkled with cheese and dabbed with sour cream. The 40 minutes passed by quickly and I could only eat half of my food, but then I headed to the tailor and my jeans were ready.
After a couple more stops--to a music shop, where I picked up a few CDs by Brazilian musicians, and a homewares store, where I picked up a little cup to use when brushing my teeth--I strolled back to the exit and the taxi stand. I showed a driver the card for my hotel that I have in my wallet, and ten minutes and $10 reais later I was back in the lobby.
I found the mall a pretty fun place to hang out, and although it's a little scary at first to try and shop without knowing Portuguese, it's the best way to get your feet wet and try and converse with people, using thumbs up, broken sentences, written notes and even calculators. And the best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new jeans, and I must say, they are by far the softest, most comfortable pair of jeans I have ever bought. I will likely be lounging in these for the better part of the remainder of my time here.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
When in Rome Manaus...
When Manaus bid to be the host city for the 2014 FIFA World Cup, most of its residents were probably aware that holding the games in the middle of the Amazon jungle, in a city with few roads connecting it to the rest of the country, was a stretch of the imagination. However, soccer, or football as it's known outside of the U.S., is so popular in Brazil (think Pelé) that the residents, given the chance to host the World Cup, probably didn't give a hoot about road connectivity.
People tend to dress fairly casual, even in business situations, in Brazil. So it may come to no surprise that I often see people at the local government office where we're working wearing football jerseys of their favorite team to work. Die-hard fans have plenty of car regalia, mobile ringtones, and even tattoos in some cases of their favorite team. FIFA football is a way of life in Brazil, and Manaus is as proud as could be about their involvement in the 2014 games. People mention it daily. Children likely imagine themselves playing in the World Cup when they play matches in the parks on the weekend.
Our driver, Monteiro, is no exception in his love for football. Well, his love of the sport is exceptional in the sense that probably 10 minutes don't pass without Monteiro thinking of the game. When walking from the car to the office, he'll often give a practice kick with his foot in the air, daydreaming right along with the kids in the park.
So I was rather honored when Monteiro invited me to playsoccer football with him on Sábado (Saturday). He knows that as an American I know next to nothing about FIFA, but I do like the game itself.
Actually, what we'll be playing isn't football, but an abbreviated style of the game, with a smaller field, five people to a side, and a smaller ball. Monteiro said this style of the game is called futebol de salão, or futsal. We'll be playing in the evening since it's too hot in Manaus to play while the sun is out.
I'm expecting the other people there will be fairly serious about the game, even a casual, weekend futsal match amongst friends. So it's a good thing that Monteiro is rather protective of me (note: I'm in charge of payroll); he said he would bring me some shin guards. But, actually, I think Monteiro mentioned that our translator, Ary, and tech staff, Armando, will be joining us, so it should be a fun evening.
(The picture is of Charles Miller, revered "Father of Brazilian football" and inventor of futsal)
People tend to dress fairly casual, even in business situations, in Brazil. So it may come to no surprise that I often see people at the local government office where we're working wearing football jerseys of their favorite team to work. Die-hard fans have plenty of car regalia, mobile ringtones, and even tattoos in some cases of their favorite team. FIFA football is a way of life in Brazil, and Manaus is as proud as could be about their involvement in the 2014 games. People mention it daily. Children likely imagine themselves playing in the World Cup when they play matches in the parks on the weekend.
Our driver, Monteiro, is no exception in his love for football. Well, his love of the sport is exceptional in the sense that probably 10 minutes don't pass without Monteiro thinking of the game. When walking from the car to the office, he'll often give a practice kick with his foot in the air, daydreaming right along with the kids in the park.
So I was rather honored when Monteiro invited me to play
Actually, what we'll be playing isn't football, but an abbreviated style of the game, with a smaller field, five people to a side, and a smaller ball. Monteiro said this style of the game is called futebol de salão, or futsal. We'll be playing in the evening since it's too hot in Manaus to play while the sun is out.I'm expecting the other people there will be fairly serious about the game, even a casual, weekend futsal match amongst friends. So it's a good thing that Monteiro is rather protective of me (note: I'm in charge of payroll); he said he would bring me some shin guards. But, actually, I think Monteiro mentioned that our translator, Ary, and tech staff, Armando, will be joining us, so it should be a fun evening.
(The picture is of Charles Miller, revered "Father of Brazilian football" and inventor of futsal)
These Two Words
Staying in a foreign country for a few weeks, it's often necessary to learn some of the local language just to get around. Luckily, being a native speaker of English, I can manage to make myself understood to most people who understand basic English, but beyond that, it's a nice thing to try and learn at least a few words in the local language. Thus far I've learned only very minimal Portuguese, and I've found that with just two words it's possible to "dialogue" with someone.
The hotel we're staying in has apartment style units which we're using, and I've been using the utility sink on the balcony to wash some of my clothes by hand; mostly socks, underwear, undershirts, running shorts and the like. The problem was that there was nowhere to string a laundry line on the balcony so the clothes could dry. Given the 100°F/40°C weather, it wouldn't take long for the clothes to dry, but there's just nothing to attach a line to. The only other option would be to put stuff on hangers and hook them on the air conditioner unit, but the obvious drawback to this is, using the a/c, the unit would drip water all over your clothes--rendering that option useless.
So I was very happy to come home one day and find that the cleaning staff had put a clothes drying rack out on my balcony. The cleaning girl must have seen my clothes on hangers hooked on the shower rod (where there is a window for a slight breeze) and decided to help me out. So when she came to clean my room today I pointed to the drying rack and used one of the most important words to know in a local language: thank you, which in Portuguese is "obrigado"*. She said something back which I had to guess was the equivalent to you're welcome. Then, since she was done cleaning the room, the only thing left to say was "Ciao". Not the most sophisticated of conversations, but it got the point across.
*For women, it would be said "obrigada". For more on how to express your gratitude in Portuguese, see HERE.
The hotel we're staying in has apartment style units which we're using, and I've been using the utility sink on the balcony to wash some of my clothes by hand; mostly socks, underwear, undershirts, running shorts and the like. The problem was that there was nowhere to string a laundry line on the balcony so the clothes could dry. Given the 100°F/40°C weather, it wouldn't take long for the clothes to dry, but there's just nothing to attach a line to. The only other option would be to put stuff on hangers and hook them on the air conditioner unit, but the obvious drawback to this is, using the a/c, the unit would drip water all over your clothes--rendering that option useless.
So I was very happy to come home one day and find that the cleaning staff had put a clothes drying rack out on my balcony. The cleaning girl must have seen my clothes on hangers hooked on the shower rod (where there is a window for a slight breeze) and decided to help me out. So when she came to clean my room today I pointed to the drying rack and used one of the most important words to know in a local language: thank you, which in Portuguese is "obrigado"*. She said something back which I had to guess was the equivalent to you're welcome. Then, since she was done cleaning the room, the only thing left to say was "Ciao". Not the most sophisticated of conversations, but it got the point across.
*For women, it would be said "obrigada". For more on how to express your gratitude in Portuguese, see HERE.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Chasing Cars
It's something I've heard about more than I've actually seen. The other day I saw two stray dogs, a white one and a brown one, and they were out playing in the street together. They were actually chasing cars. I saw a car approach, and as it did their faces lit up. Then, as the car passed, I lost sight of them for a moment, but then they appeared behind the car, running at full speed, tongues wagging. The white dog gave up first, and skidded off to the side of the road, almost sliding into a ditch. The brown dog slowed down and then trotted over to the white dog and trounced playfully. Then another car approached and they were at it again.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Don't Drink the Water
Today, during the power outage at the office, I went to the shopping center with our translator Ary. We are about the same age, and although he speaks a few "European" languages, he says it's amazing that I can speak Japanese, which he insists would take him 20 years to learn. Nevertheless, his English is outstanding, and he translates documents like an efficient machine; churning out 5 pages in a couple hours at times. After we finished exchanging money, we headed over to the bookstore because I am looking for some books or software to start learning Spanish. I was looking for the Rosetta Stone series, but the tiny book store at Millennium Shopping Center didn't have it so he suggested the large, two-level bookstore inside the Manauara Shopping Center, so we headed over there. The bookstore there was, indeed, rather impressive, but they didn't have that particular series. I looked at a few others, but ultimately decided I would just order it from, yes, ironically, Amazon.com.
After we finished at the bookstore, we headed over to the food court. They have McDonald's there, as well as two Brazilian fast food joints, one called simply Bob's and the other Girafa's. Ary said both of them were terrible and if we were going to have a burger to get Micky D's Big Tasty. But we decided to bypass the heart attack food and, instead, go the an Italian restaurant in the food court. Ary ordered a fillet mignon parmigiana with pasta, and I ordered a vegetarian spinach lasagna. We also both ordered fresh juice, and I got the orange with acerola (a.k.a. Barbados cherry). Lunch was great, and afterwards we headed back to the office.
On the way, we were talking in the car, and Ary was telling me that he is also working as translator on another project to contract for a water treatment system in Manaus. He reminded me not to drink the tap water in Brazil, as it's probably full of who-knows-what. He said you have to be careful with ice cubes and juices, and that restaurants will sometimes claim they have a private well or something, but don't believe them. I'm pretty careful with that sort of thing usually, but then I reminded Ary that we'd just ordered fresh juice at the Italian place. He told me, "Oh, well, that's a big shopping center so they probably have their own private well." "But you just told me not to believe anyone if they told me that!!" I said, almost laughing from the irony of it.
Luckily, over 12 hours later and I've experienced absolutely no ill effects, so I suppose the juice at Manauara was safe.
After we finished at the bookstore, we headed over to the food court. They have McDonald's there, as well as two Brazilian fast food joints, one called simply Bob's and the other Girafa's. Ary said both of them were terrible and if we were going to have a burger to get Micky D's Big Tasty. But we decided to bypass the heart attack food and, instead, go the an Italian restaurant in the food court. Ary ordered a fillet mignon parmigiana with pasta, and I ordered a vegetarian spinach lasagna. We also both ordered fresh juice, and I got the orange with acerola (a.k.a. Barbados cherry). Lunch was great, and afterwards we headed back to the office.
On the way, we were talking in the car, and Ary was telling me that he is also working as translator on another project to contract for a water treatment system in Manaus. He reminded me not to drink the tap water in Brazil, as it's probably full of who-knows-what. He said you have to be careful with ice cubes and juices, and that restaurants will sometimes claim they have a private well or something, but don't believe them. I'm pretty careful with that sort of thing usually, but then I reminded Ary that we'd just ordered fresh juice at the Italian place. He told me, "Oh, well, that's a big shopping center so they probably have their own private well." "But you just told me not to believe anyone if they told me that!!" I said, almost laughing from the irony of it.
Luckily, over 12 hours later and I've experienced absolutely no ill effects, so I suppose the juice at Manauara was safe.
Battery Power
This morning we arrived at our office and began work as usual. However,
after about 30 minutes, the power suddenly cut out. About 10 minutes
later it came back on for only a split second and then cut out again.
Everyone unplugged their computers for fear of an electrical surge, but
the power still didn't come back on. After a couple hours, our laptop
batteries had just about been drained, so our project manager announced
that we'd go back to the hotel to work, where they have a generator, and
if the power at the office came back on to call us. Our office is in
such a large complex, it would probably be difficult for them to have a
generator to run electricity for the entire place. It's not surprising
though because, what with the weather here--in the upper 90s F (30s C)
everyday--people have the air conditioners running full blast in every
room.
Instead of going back to the hotel, I went with our translator Ary to
the Millennium Shopping Center to exchange some traveler's checks. I was
relieved to see the shopping centers all had generators, and thus were
operating normally. Apparently Manaus is currently in the process of
getting an underground natural gas pipeline installed. It should be
ready soon, and once they have that, it will supposedly solve the power
outages. Otherwise, I was told that it's not uncommon for this to happen
every so often until the end of the year!
Later, around 2pm, we did finally get a phone call and headed back to
the complex where our office is located. The power stayed on for the
rest of the day, although on the way there we noticed another government
office was shutting down for the day, apparent from all the people
getting on federal buses to take them home at the end of the day. So we
wondered, maybe they got to have power in the morning and then we took
their power for the afternoon?
after about 30 minutes, the power suddenly cut out. About 10 minutes
later it came back on for only a split second and then cut out again.
Everyone unplugged their computers for fear of an electrical surge, but
the power still didn't come back on. After a couple hours, our laptop
batteries had just about been drained, so our project manager announced
that we'd go back to the hotel to work, where they have a generator, and
if the power at the office came back on to call us. Our office is in
such a large complex, it would probably be difficult for them to have a
generator to run electricity for the entire place. It's not surprising
though because, what with the weather here--in the upper 90s F (30s C)
everyday--people have the air conditioners running full blast in every
room.
Instead of going back to the hotel, I went with our translator Ary to
the Millennium Shopping Center to exchange some traveler's checks. I was
relieved to see the shopping centers all had generators, and thus were
operating normally. Apparently Manaus is currently in the process of
getting an underground natural gas pipeline installed. It should be
ready soon, and once they have that, it will supposedly solve the power
outages. Otherwise, I was told that it's not uncommon for this to happen
every so often until the end of the year!
Later, around 2pm, we did finally get a phone call and headed back to
the complex where our office is located. The power stayed on for the
rest of the day, although on the way there we noticed another government
office was shutting down for the day, apparent from all the people
getting on federal buses to take them home at the end of the day. So we
wondered, maybe they got to have power in the morning and then we took
their power for the afternoon?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Surreality
Being jet lagged makes regular, everyday phenomena seem slightly surreal. Yesterday, my 3rd full day in Manaus, we had a weekly meeting of all the members of our project; over 20 people, so we met in a large auditorium where they have a U-shaped row of desks in front of the stage for small conferences. People use microphones to speak because the room is so large that the sound is dissipated quickly. The meeting started from 3pm, at which point I was already feeling a little tired, and by 4 o' clock my eyelids began to feel as heavy as lead (if you'll forgive the pun: eye-leads).
Most of the project members were speaking in Portuguese, and discussion had become so heated that our translator had pretty much given up covering every word and would just give us summaries at the end. That meant 10 minute stretches of people speaking back and forth in Portuguese on microphones, sitting in this dimly lit auditorium. And to make matters worse, I had forgotten to wear my glasses so that the people facing us sitting on the other side of the desks were slightly blurry, which made them look like frenzied talking heads. My head began to spin and I could barely hold it up any longer; as the jet lag kicked into high gear, my body clock was signaling that it was 5a.m.
Luckily, the meeting wound down and I shook myself awake for the last 10 or 15 minutes. I found my legs and stood up as they announced the meeting over and shuffled back to our project office. It was time to go home.
Most of the project members were speaking in Portuguese, and discussion had become so heated that our translator had pretty much given up covering every word and would just give us summaries at the end. That meant 10 minute stretches of people speaking back and forth in Portuguese on microphones, sitting in this dimly lit auditorium. And to make matters worse, I had forgotten to wear my glasses so that the people facing us sitting on the other side of the desks were slightly blurry, which made them look like frenzied talking heads. My head began to spin and I could barely hold it up any longer; as the jet lag kicked into high gear, my body clock was signaling that it was 5a.m.
Luckily, the meeting wound down and I shook myself awake for the last 10 or 15 minutes. I found my legs and stood up as they announced the meeting over and shuffled back to our project office. It was time to go home.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Beachfront
Yesterday, after a couple hours of tennis, we went to the "Black Port" beachfront area near the Rio Negro, just down from the Tropical Hotel. Monteiro, our driver, led us around the area and showed us the sights. The river is still too high for there to be any real beach, but there is a promenade that runs along the river where families were gathered, couples cuddled together, and groups of teenagers goofing around. One area featured a wooden deck that protruded out over the river, and a group of boys were jumping off the railing, some doing flips, others just flailing in the air for a bit, before they were caught by the black waters of the river.
We didn't head all the way down the promenade, so instead we swung around the upper parking area, where there were a number of small shops selling souvenirs and snacks. One shop was selling
t-shirts, another had hand-carved wooden goblets, pestle & mortar, and bowls. One shop had a massage bed and there were three attendants wearing white lab coats under a sign that said "shiatsu massage". The port looks like a popular spot for people to hang out day or night,
and certainly a central feature to the city of Manaus.
We didn't head all the way down the promenade, so instead we swung around the upper parking area, where there were a number of small shops selling souvenirs and snacks. One shop was selling
t-shirts, another had hand-carved wooden goblets, pestle & mortar, and bowls. One shop had a massage bed and there were three attendants wearing white lab coats under a sign that said "shiatsu massage". The port looks like a popular spot for people to hang out day or night,
and certainly a central feature to the city of Manaus.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Looping into a New Rhythm
Day two in a new time zone and the body begins to adapt to the new sleep cycle that it is confronted with. To do this, I try to balance my sleep time on the flights and, after arrival, push through any fatigue during the day. As long as I can get a decent night's sleep, it's usually just a couple days until I adapt.
I've heard that, if near a large body of water, getting in for a swim will help you adapt because you feel the rhythm of the tide. Other people insist that it's best to just take a sleeping aid and knock yourself out. However, I feel that the best way is to simply drink a lot of water, eat light meals and get some exercise.
I've heard that, if near a large body of water, getting in for a swim will help you adapt because you feel the rhythm of the tide. Other people insist that it's best to just take a sleeping aid and knock yourself out. However, I feel that the best way is to simply drink a lot of water, eat light meals and get some exercise.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Latin Kite Runner
I go out on my balcony and survey the scene before me. It takes me a
moment to realize that, with the backdrop of buildings, there is a kite
flying just a couple hundred meters away. I can't see who is flying it,
but the long tail streams to the side as the kite dips down and then
floats back up over the rooftops.
moment to realize that, with the backdrop of buildings, there is a kite
flying just a couple hundred meters away. I can't see who is flying it,
but the long tail streams to the side as the kite dips down and then
floats back up over the rooftops.
Domestic Flight in Brazil
I was surprised to speak to a colleague of mine who flew in on Japan Airlines to Sao Paulo and was scheduled to fly the 9:10 on GOL airlines to Manaus when he told me that it had been canceled. He was moved to another domestic airline, TAM, and flew out on their 9:30 flight. At least in theory, I could have made the TAM flight since I was at the check-in area 22 minutes before they took off.
Getting Settled In
When I got to Manaus, I collected my luggage and headed out to the general airport area, where Monteiro, our driver, was waiting. After a reciprocal thumbs up (which serves as communication between Monteiro, who doesn't speak much English, and myself and my colleagues) he dashed off to bring the car around. Once in the car, though, I found Monteiro had been studying English and had a bilingual dictionary in the car for us to work through a few sentences, say some greetings and have a few laughs.
Not much later, we arrived at Slaass Flat Hotel, where I'll be staying during my trip. I got put into a corner room, which is slightly larger, has a better layout and double the balcony space than their normal apartment-style rooms. Not that I will really use the balcony; it's hot as hell out there.
Monteiro told me that it had been about 36 degrees (about 96F) the day I arrived, so I was sort of happy to have arrived in the evening, where it was still pretty muggy, but nothing to formidable. Anyway, I've currently got the A/C cranked and it feels cool in here as we rapidly approach noon.
I was able to get a pretty good night's sleep and wake up around 7:30 this morning. After a run on the 8th floor treadmill (which provides a decent view of the city), I showered and got some breakfast. Slaass Hotel does serve a heck of a good buffet breakfast, complete with pineapple, mango and other fruits, lots of breads and sandwiches, eggs and chouriço sausage, coffee, juice and yogurt, etc. Then I sat back and read the Rolling Stone magazine I'd bought in Newark and drank a couple cups of Brazilian coffee, and then I headed over to the grocery store nearby.
Thirty minutes later I was back in my corner room with 7 bags of groceries, including a few bottles of Santa Claudia agua mineral com gas, a few ripening pears, a package of almonds and cashews, a box of raisins, a bottle of Argentine red wine and a cheap corkscrew. I also bought a bucket and laundry soap so I can do some washing here when I don't have time to run to the laundromat. So I should be all set for a little while at least.
Apparently my colleagues have reserved the tennis courts uptown this afternoon. I'm not sure I'm up for it after all the travel, but it's probably better to get out and move around, and get some exercise. Unfortunately, when I play tennis, the exercise usually comes in the form of chasing the balls I lob into the stands and other courts.
Not much later, we arrived at Slaass Flat Hotel, where I'll be staying during my trip. I got put into a corner room, which is slightly larger, has a better layout and double the balcony space than their normal apartment-style rooms. Not that I will really use the balcony; it's hot as hell out there.
Monteiro told me that it had been about 36 degrees (about 96F) the day I arrived, so I was sort of happy to have arrived in the evening, where it was still pretty muggy, but nothing to formidable. Anyway, I've currently got the A/C cranked and it feels cool in here as we rapidly approach noon.
I was able to get a pretty good night's sleep and wake up around 7:30 this morning. After a run on the 8th floor treadmill (which provides a decent view of the city), I showered and got some breakfast. Slaass Hotel does serve a heck of a good buffet breakfast, complete with pineapple, mango and other fruits, lots of breads and sandwiches, eggs and chouriço sausage, coffee, juice and yogurt, etc. Then I sat back and read the Rolling Stone magazine I'd bought in Newark and drank a couple cups of Brazilian coffee, and then I headed over to the grocery store nearby.
Thirty minutes later I was back in my corner room with 7 bags of groceries, including a few bottles of Santa Claudia agua mineral com gas, a few ripening pears, a package of almonds and cashews, a box of raisins, a bottle of Argentine red wine and a cheap corkscrew. I also bought a bucket and laundry soap so I can do some washing here when I don't have time to run to the laundromat. So I should be all set for a little while at least.
Apparently my colleagues have reserved the tennis courts uptown this afternoon. I'm not sure I'm up for it after all the travel, but it's probably better to get out and move around, and get some exercise. Unfortunately, when I play tennis, the exercise usually comes in the form of chasing the balls I lob into the stands and other courts.
Getting to Manaus
The flight from Sao Paulo was transferred from Gate 20 to Gate 14A, and although there was an announcement, it was made in Portuguese. It certainly would have saved me some stress and running if I had understood the announcement. However, as luck would have it, I noticed that boarding was not happening in a timely fashion at my gate, not to mention the fact that a lot of people had disappeared from the area I was in. So, duh, I realized it was time to get offline and figure out where the heck I was supposed to be.
Check monitors. Flight 8696. There it is. Gate: 14A. Where the heck is that?
Luckily it was just a short shuffle down a hallway, to the left and down a flight of stairs. The bus was waiting as people boarded and they told me there was still plenty of time before they moved us out to the tarmac.
Check monitors. Flight 8696. There it is. Gate: 14A. Where the heck is that?
Luckily it was just a short shuffle down a hallway, to the left and down a flight of stairs. The bus was waiting as people boarded and they told me there was still plenty of time before they moved us out to the tarmac.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Dog Owner Update
Thought I might as well give a quick update on the dog owner I mentioned earlier that stopped for her little dog to poop in the hallway at the airport. As I headed back down through Concourse B, I saw her again and her dog had a diaper on! I'm not making this up. Also, the spot where she had left her puppy's deposit, had been cleared of the offense. So I don't know if she was stopped by the fezes policia and her doggy ordered to wear Pampers, or she rectified the situation on her own accord, but I felt it worth commenting that the airport is actually fairly clean and the people polite after all.
Next in Line
After grabbing a sandwich and double espresso for lunch, I decided I might as well check in for my domestic flight and wait by the gate, (where I am now). I suppose it's a good thing (or maybe not, read on) that I left plenty of time to do this because it took an hour to complete the process.
I don't know if it's Brazil in general or just GOL airlines, but waiting in line, it seemed like the only thing moving was the clock. Sure, there was some movement behind the counter, where GOL staff milled about, but nothing that looked overly purposeful. Except every once in a while, someone would announce that a flight was boarding, so the ground staff would call out, "Is anyone in line for flight 123 leaving in 10 minutes?!" and a few people would raise their hands. These people were ushered to the front of the line so they could check in and catch their flight. Effectively, this gives zero incentive to check in early and lots of encouragement to wait until the last minute, when you'll be dealt with promptly.
Sadly, it took me 30 minutes to get to the counter and there were only four people in front of me--and one of them was later removed from our line for "express processing". So that puts the per passenger processing time at 10 minutes per person, compared with, say, the minute and a half it took me to check in at Narita in Japan.
But I digress. Actually, once I got to the ticket counter, it didn't take long at all for her to check my confirmation number and issue my ticket, then check in my bag. And all that was done without knowing a word she was saying in Portuguese. Maybe that helped move along the process??
After that, I went through security and then a police check of some sort (not really sure, but it was similar to going through Immigration, but for domestic travel), and all that seemed to go fine. Then I strolled on down to Gate 20 and, luckily, found a power outlet to plug in my laptop (44% and charging).
I don't know if it's Brazil in general or just GOL airlines, but waiting in line, it seemed like the only thing moving was the clock. Sure, there was some movement behind the counter, where GOL staff milled about, but nothing that looked overly purposeful. Except every once in a while, someone would announce that a flight was boarding, so the ground staff would call out, "Is anyone in line for flight 123 leaving in 10 minutes?!" and a few people would raise their hands. These people were ushered to the front of the line so they could check in and catch their flight. Effectively, this gives zero incentive to check in early and lots of encouragement to wait until the last minute, when you'll be dealt with promptly.
Sadly, it took me 30 minutes to get to the counter and there were only four people in front of me--and one of them was later removed from our line for "express processing". So that puts the per passenger processing time at 10 minutes per person, compared with, say, the minute and a half it took me to check in at Narita in Japan.
But I digress. Actually, once I got to the ticket counter, it didn't take long at all for her to check my confirmation number and issue my ticket, then check in my bag. And all that was done without knowing a word she was saying in Portuguese. Maybe that helped move along the process??
After that, I went through security and then a police check of some sort (not really sure, but it was similar to going through Immigration, but for domestic travel), and all that seemed to go fine. Then I strolled on down to Gate 20 and, luckily, found a power outlet to plug in my laptop (44% and charging).
Getting into Sao Paulo
It helped that I was seated near the front of the airplane, but never before have I gone through Immigration, baggage claim and Customs in less than 15 minutes! This was, nevertheless, extremely pleasant and frustrating at the same time. The reason being that I had a domestic flight booked from Sao Paulo to Manaus. I knew that the early flight--which was originally slotted for 9:30 but had been moved up to 9:10am--was highly unlikely, so I had already changed my ticket for the 2:30pm flight; leaving me with a 5.5 hour layover. However, getting through the entry process so quickly, I actually made it to the domestic check-in counter at 9:08! I looked at the attendant standing near the back of the line and asked her, already knowing the answer, if there was any way (in hell) I could get on the 9:10. She just looked at me and said, "No."
Fair enough. Luckily I found a seat in the airport hallway near check-in where I'm getting a good wireless signal and can fool around online for a bit. At least until my battery fades out: 48% and counting.
The flight from Newark to Sao Paulo was pretty good; even entertaining, to say the least. I sat next to a hyperactive German businessman who had flown into New York from San Fransicso and made a quick phone call on his Blackberry to a colleague in Singapore before the cabin doors were closed. Before making his call though, he made some small talk with me, became buddies with the flight staff and had ordered champagne. He was obviously a very frequent flyer, and in the next few hours pulled off a fine balance of barking orders at the staff to get what he wanted and flattering them with praise for how wonderful everything was; a real sign of a true businessman, I suppose, is being able to do this properly. Anyway, while on the phone, in pseudo-multi-tasker mode, he circled what he wanted on the menu and handed it to the flight staff. After take-off, when the seatbelt sign was off, before dinner, he made a quick stop to the lavatory, and 5 minutes later was getting plied with the best champagne on offer, which he knew by name. At that point I hadn't even gotten the beer I ordered, and when I did it was a Corona and not the Fosters that I'd requested. The flight staff poured him the last of the champagne by dessert and then he ordered some port with his cheese, crackers and grapes, and finally, before turning in to sleep for the remainder of the flight, he ordered a congac and bottle of water; and then we was out for the duration. When he ordered the cognac, he was emphatic that I try it as well, ("Really, they are so wonderful here," he exclaimed, well within earshot of the staff), but I declined.
As he drank his cognac and readied for slumber, I was sipping a decaf coffee topped off with Baily's and reading an article in the Atlantic about "intelligence augmentation", using technology--like cell phones and web clouds--and even drugs like modafinil--a prescription drug for narcoleptics and, increasingly, frequent business flyers--that are basically stimulants that the author claimed can make you smarter. I looked over at my seat neighbor and decided then and there that this was exactly the type of guy the article was describing. I don't know if he was on modafinil, but I wouldn't have been surprised, although I don't know how well that mixes with champagne, port wine and cognac. But he was a nice enough guy, professional looking, polite, direct and--maybe most importantly, very smiley. And since the movies on the flight were of no interest, he provided me with some entertainment during the flight.
I also managed to sleep through most of the flight, and then awoke 2 hours before landing to have breakfast, read the NYTimes and have coffee--my chosen "intelligence augmenter"--sans Baily's, con caffeine this time. Since I still have 3+ hours before my next flight, and the PC battery is now at 25%, I suppose I'll go exchange some money and see if I can't find a good article to read on Brazilian dog owners letting their puppies poop in the middle of Concourse B and then walking away (I wish I was kidding).
Fair enough. Luckily I found a seat in the airport hallway near check-in where I'm getting a good wireless signal and can fool around online for a bit. At least until my battery fades out: 48% and counting.
The flight from Newark to Sao Paulo was pretty good; even entertaining, to say the least. I sat next to a hyperactive German businessman who had flown into New York from San Fransicso and made a quick phone call on his Blackberry to a colleague in Singapore before the cabin doors were closed. Before making his call though, he made some small talk with me, became buddies with the flight staff and had ordered champagne. He was obviously a very frequent flyer, and in the next few hours pulled off a fine balance of barking orders at the staff to get what he wanted and flattering them with praise for how wonderful everything was; a real sign of a true businessman, I suppose, is being able to do this properly. Anyway, while on the phone, in pseudo-multi-tasker mode, he circled what he wanted on the menu and handed it to the flight staff. After take-off, when the seatbelt sign was off, before dinner, he made a quick stop to the lavatory, and 5 minutes later was getting plied with the best champagne on offer, which he knew by name. At that point I hadn't even gotten the beer I ordered, and when I did it was a Corona and not the Fosters that I'd requested. The flight staff poured him the last of the champagne by dessert and then he ordered some port with his cheese, crackers and grapes, and finally, before turning in to sleep for the remainder of the flight, he ordered a congac and bottle of water; and then we was out for the duration. When he ordered the cognac, he was emphatic that I try it as well, ("Really, they are so wonderful here," he exclaimed, well within earshot of the staff), but I declined.
As he drank his cognac and readied for slumber, I was sipping a decaf coffee topped off with Baily's and reading an article in the Atlantic about "intelligence augmentation", using technology--like cell phones and web clouds--and even drugs like modafinil--a prescription drug for narcoleptics and, increasingly, frequent business flyers--that are basically stimulants that the author claimed can make you smarter. I looked over at my seat neighbor and decided then and there that this was exactly the type of guy the article was describing. I don't know if he was on modafinil, but I wouldn't have been surprised, although I don't know how well that mixes with champagne, port wine and cognac. But he was a nice enough guy, professional looking, polite, direct and--maybe most importantly, very smiley. And since the movies on the flight were of no interest, he provided me with some entertainment during the flight.
I also managed to sleep through most of the flight, and then awoke 2 hours before landing to have breakfast, read the NYTimes and have coffee--my chosen "intelligence augmenter"--sans Baily's, con caffeine this time. Since I still have 3+ hours before my next flight, and the PC battery is now at 25%, I suppose I'll go exchange some money and see if I can't find a good article to read on Brazilian dog owners letting their puppies poop in the middle of Concourse B and then walking away (I wish I was kidding).
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Back to the Amazon... on Continental Airlines
I'm headed back to Manaus this week for a nearly 40 day assignment. Last time I flew on Japan Airlines, but due to various new regulations put in place by our government contracting agency induced by the "economic downturn", I am flying on Continental this time. It's my first time to fly this airline, and instead of flying into JFK, I'm at Newark Airport at the moment. Continental has a huge hub here at Newark, so I'm currently in their "Presidential Lounge" looking out a window at a half dozen jumbo jets with their insignia emblazzoned on the tailwings.
Continental also offers a special "J Support" service for special Japanese travellers, and since I'm on an official "technical cooperation" project, I automatically qualify for this. It entails attaching big yellow tags that say J SUPPORT to your luggage and carry-on so that (a) your luggage comes out first at the baggage claim (it did!) and (b) an attendant meets you as you disembark from the aircraft. This second benefit, however, did not go quite as smoothly as one would hope.
The attendant is meant to assist Japanese travellers through the US customs and transfer process, and a brochure I received about the service assured that the attendant speaks Japanese and English. Well, I figured I really did not require such service since I would be transfering in my own country in my native tongue afterall. Well, when I got off the airplane, there was a woman holding a sign that said my name on it, so I stopped and she said she would meet me by the baggage carousel. I said okay, headed on to Immigration, which went smoothly, and I was at the baggage claim some 10 minutes later. My bag came out right away and I picked it up and then waited for about 5 minutes. I didn't see her so I thought, "Meh, I'll just go on my own," and headed for customs. Note to self: "When offered a special service, stick around for it!"
I was almost immediately stopped by a customs officer (homeland security?) for a special inspection of my luggage. He quized me about my trip, how much cash I had on me, went through my bags, my papers, asked if I speak Japanese, wrote down my company name, etc. Then, at the end of it, I was told to repack my things and shown the exit. Now, on the other side of customs, I heard an announcement of my name on the loudspeakers. The attendent was likely looking for me, but there was no way I was going to get back IN to customs, so after craning my neck a bit looking for her, I carried on.
After dropping my check-in luggage off to be sent on to Sao Paulo, I headed to check myself back in so I could get to the lounge. The line was loooong and looked like it would take at least 30 minutes, if not more. I pulled out a magazine, but was soon told to head off to Check-in Counter C-1 for a shorter line. Of course they don't mention that it takes 10 minutes to walk there and another 5 to wait in that line. But still, I suppose it was faster than waiting where I was, and besides, my flight wasn't for another 5 hours anyway!
So now here I am in the lounge, camped out in a corner chair with a glass of complimentary white wine and wireless Internet. So far the trip is going well, I suppose, considering I was able to sleep comfortably on the flight for at least 6 hours, and that was after watching Annie Hall (had never seen it before!), and Pretty Woman (a classic, but now classically outdated knight-in-shining-armor movie). Upon getting to the lounge, I tried to talk to the receptionist about the J Support attendant, since I sort of felt bad at that point. However, no one I spoke to had ever heard of the program, and probably couldn't figure out why I was talking about a service for Japanese travellers anyway.
Well, it's now 8pm and I can board for my next flight in a little over an hour. I'll get to Sao Paulo in the morning and then have a 5 hour layover there before I can take a 4 hour flight to Manaus. This is far too much travel time to feel like the 21st century, but I suppose in the meantime, I'll make the most of the complimentary wine to pass the time.
Continental also offers a special "J Support" service for special Japanese travellers, and since I'm on an official "technical cooperation" project, I automatically qualify for this. It entails attaching big yellow tags that say J SUPPORT to your luggage and carry-on so that (a) your luggage comes out first at the baggage claim (it did!) and (b) an attendant meets you as you disembark from the aircraft. This second benefit, however, did not go quite as smoothly as one would hope.
The attendant is meant to assist Japanese travellers through the US customs and transfer process, and a brochure I received about the service assured that the attendant speaks Japanese and English. Well, I figured I really did not require such service since I would be transfering in my own country in my native tongue afterall. Well, when I got off the airplane, there was a woman holding a sign that said my name on it, so I stopped and she said she would meet me by the baggage carousel. I said okay, headed on to Immigration, which went smoothly, and I was at the baggage claim some 10 minutes later. My bag came out right away and I picked it up and then waited for about 5 minutes. I didn't see her so I thought, "Meh, I'll just go on my own," and headed for customs. Note to self: "When offered a special service, stick around for it!"
I was almost immediately stopped by a customs officer (homeland security?) for a special inspection of my luggage. He quized me about my trip, how much cash I had on me, went through my bags, my papers, asked if I speak Japanese, wrote down my company name, etc. Then, at the end of it, I was told to repack my things and shown the exit. Now, on the other side of customs, I heard an announcement of my name on the loudspeakers. The attendent was likely looking for me, but there was no way I was going to get back IN to customs, so after craning my neck a bit looking for her, I carried on.
After dropping my check-in luggage off to be sent on to Sao Paulo, I headed to check myself back in so I could get to the lounge. The line was loooong and looked like it would take at least 30 minutes, if not more. I pulled out a magazine, but was soon told to head off to Check-in Counter C-1 for a shorter line. Of course they don't mention that it takes 10 minutes to walk there and another 5 to wait in that line. But still, I suppose it was faster than waiting where I was, and besides, my flight wasn't for another 5 hours anyway!
So now here I am in the lounge, camped out in a corner chair with a glass of complimentary white wine and wireless Internet. So far the trip is going well, I suppose, considering I was able to sleep comfortably on the flight for at least 6 hours, and that was after watching Annie Hall (had never seen it before!), and Pretty Woman (a classic, but now classically outdated knight-in-shining-armor movie). Upon getting to the lounge, I tried to talk to the receptionist about the J Support attendant, since I sort of felt bad at that point. However, no one I spoke to had ever heard of the program, and probably couldn't figure out why I was talking about a service for Japanese travellers anyway.
Well, it's now 8pm and I can board for my next flight in a little over an hour. I'll get to Sao Paulo in the morning and then have a 5 hour layover there before I can take a 4 hour flight to Manaus. This is far too much travel time to feel like the 21st century, but I suppose in the meantime, I'll make the most of the complimentary wine to pass the time.
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