from 14.02.: Sao Gabriel / RS

14.02.:

tailwind, bright blue sky, and the temperatures suggest that maybe I should put on something warmer.

Today I am early and hope that the bakery is already open. I enjoy the breakfast culture one more time with lace doilies and proper dishes.

At half past nine I sit on the Vespa with mixed feelings. What's the hissing all about? Unfortunately, Wilfried's suggestion to check if the screws for the suspension are loose leads to the result that everything is tightly fastened. The trim piece is my last hope, as it has no firm attachment, but even its screws do not allow any further right-hand turns. Is it the cause? I have no patience for further investigation. It's time to move on.

I am surprised how well I can navigate out of Porto Alegre. I expected traffic jams and rush hour scenarios, bumpy roads and motorcycles passing on both sides, but nothing like that is stressing me. Porto Alegre says goodbye with numerous trips of the Rio Jacui, all of which flow into the spacious bay and later into the Atlantic Ocean. The bridge that spans the whole scene is showing its age.

A few kilometers to the north, the new bridge is already visible, with its fragments standing tall in the sky and not yet completely closed.

I would love to stop and take photos. But I'd better not. It's still just two days since the Puerto Maldonado anniversary - I don't want to provoke an accident.

I notice again and again signs that say "frontera". I keep looking at my navigation system to make sure I'm traveling west and not south toward Uruguay. But then I realize that the sun is behind me and I'm heading west. Then the kilometer indication for the border town of Uruguayana comes and a few kilometers later the turn-off to Pelotas, the border town of Uruguay.

The Vespa is happy that it's riding with the wind and sings to itself. Throughout the journey, I see trucks loaded with logs coming towards me. Soon after, I see large deforested areas that are only interrupted by the stacked and perfectly straight pine tree trunks. I sincerely hope that reforestation will begin as soon as possible. Or is corn going to be planted here? The terrain becomes hilly and the landscape becomes more varied, but BR 290 is the real eye-catcher. The heat of the past season has caused fresh patches of asphalt to form, which are only visible shortly before encountering them. It becomes particularly critical when they have formed in the direction of travel and want to take control of the Vespa away from me. Potholes also require my undivided attention. What a pity. I would like to take a closer look at my surroundings.

Later, there are signs for the sale of grapes. Grapes? Here? But then, a few kilometers later, I actually see vineyards that can be recognized as such. Row after row.

Right on time for the halfway point, I find a cantina that offers rice pudding with fresh papayas for dessert. Since the dessert bowls are very small, I have a second one.

My hostel owner casually cancels my room for the next two nights. But booking.com is on the ball and offers me a replacement at the same price in a following email. One good thing is that when I enter the address in the navigation system, I realize that the offline access is not working. A glance at my offline map shows me that I need to download the next section of the map to access the road network offline again.

The wifi reception here is perfect. As it is throughout my tour of South America.

I arrive in Sao Gabriel around 4 PM and experience a similar situation as in Porto Alegre two days ago when looking for accommodation. Fortunately, the city with its 60,000 inhabitants and the neighborhood where I am looking for my hostel are manageable.

In the end, I find the house number, but no doorbell. I call there, say who I am and who sent me, but the man on the other end is probably annoyed during his siesta and hangs up. I make a few more phone calls, but he doesn't answer anymore. But there was a positive outcome to my search. I meet a thin, gray-haired man in his seventies - both are unusual here - and when I mumble something in German, he becomes attentive and asks me in German if I come from Germany.

Unfortunately, he cannot tell me which part of Germany he comes from. His great-grandfather immigrated here with his family. His last name is Schütz, but his first name had to yield to local traditions. He tells me that he also offers rooms for rent. Good to know, but the booked room has priority.

I'm glad that after the phone terror, I still have the option with Mr. Schütz.

It's a single-family house and truly connected to German culture. The interior matches the taste that people of his age have in Germany.

All in perfect order

They have many rooms, filled with beds. They mainly accommodate vacationers from Buenos Aires who are heading to the beach in Florianopolis and stop here for an overnight stay halfway through their journey.

Is Brazil so much cheaper that the long drive to the east coast is worth it? Uruguay is skipped because, as the blogs say, it has European prices.

I booked with breakfast here, which costs only 5 reals!

15.02.:

Here, I find myself in two worlds: on the one hand, the well-kept atmosphere of the house and garden, on the other hand, the South American flair of my room and the city of Sao Gabriel, which reminds me a lot of Pto Maldonado.

The breakfast is entertaining. Edy - that's the host's name - speaks a mix between German and Portuguese and is happy to have some variety. He proudly tells me that he is 85. I would have guessed 10 years younger, straight posture, no cane, no limp, and good physical condition. During breakfast, he stood in the kitchen, and that must have been at least half an hour.

His grandparents leased land here when they arrived and made their money with rice. It went well for two generations, but then the lease was terminated overnight. Anyway, he has his livelihood and another house in Sao Gabriel, which he has rented out.

Despite the German influence, this house is remarkable. In one half, the son and his wife live, in the other half, the parents. The layout is determined by the guest rooms. The living rooms are probably also reserved for guests and are located right at the entrance, where normally the hallway or foyer is. I still haven't figured out where the hosts have their private area. I live in the son's half of the house. He is around fifty, Sandra, his wife, maybe five years younger - I haven't seen any children. Last night he offered me to get water from the kitchen.

The kitchen looks unused, the fridge is empty - unfortunately, no water - on the dining table, colorful plastic fruits are arranged in a bowl....

Where and how they live? Could this be the kitchen for the guests? But that can't be, because family photos are distributed everywhere.

After a post-breakfast nap, I go into town. And there, the contrast reveals itself in its full breadth. Here in the neighborhood, everything is tidy, the gardens well-maintained, and the houses in good condition. But as soon as I leave the neighborhood, I am greeted by decay. Crumbling facades, dripping air conditioners, and stumbling blocks on the sidewalks.

The plaza - the living room of every city - also leads a sad existence. Over and over again, Puerto Maldonado pushes into this picture.

Tonight, on my way to my hostel, to make up for it, I see a very colorful rainbow. Otherwise, its colors are rather faded and the arc is incomplete. None of the passersby pay any attention to it and they only notice it when they see me looking at it.

It has rained a lot during the day. Temperatures are around 20 degrees. The forecast for tomorrow? 30 degrees.

I have Rio Uruguaiana in sight for tomorrow. That is the border town to Argentina. I have booked 3 nights there to calmly complete the border crossing.