The Electric Coconut

Copacabana on a normal weekday

Taking cover from the rain under a barraca, one of those stands on the beach that sells everything, I felt a tingling on the back of my arm. "Ok here it comes," I thought, "my first stress-induced heart attack." My South American friends say I fit the stereotype of a New Yorker, hypocondriatic and prone to complaints (prices, rain, people, etc). I think the latter part is from my French side.

Anyway the tingling continued down to my fingers and up to my shoulder. I moved my arm a little and it suddenly went away. Well-versed in the scientific method, I returned my arm to the original spot and the tingling buzzed back across my flesh. I turned around, saw some coconuts on a shelf next to me, and thought I was crazy.

Crazy because I was being mildly electrocuted by coconuts.

My friend didn't believe me, but I have some experience with being electrocuted by strange things (computers, people, stoves) so I had to electrocute him, with the coconuts, to demonstrate. Standard beach occurrence.

The beaches are the reason Rio exists. The city would be nothing without them, and they are the center of daytime recreation and activities. "Oh, what will you do today?" is a normal weekend question in any city across the world, perhaps met with answers of reading, walking, museums, shows, cultural things, etc. Here, there is one answer: Beach. This has implications for culture and education we can get into another time.

Surfing fail

The attraction of the beach isn't necessarily the water, which is notoriously dangerous and often dirty. The beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana have had hundreds of tons of sand dumped onto them to make them wider, and this has messed up the sea's natural coastal currents.

The lifeguard system is top-notch and responds extremely quickly to any emergency. My friend's failed first surfing attempt, seen to the left, was quickly saved, and there are helicopters always in the air, never more than 5 minutes away, that can swoop in and pick up a distressed newbie.

So the beach isn't about the water; its about the sights. Rio's beaches and really quite beautiful, and while backed by hundreds of apartment buildings, on either side they are flanked by famous mountains and hills, and have several pristine islands offshore.

But again, many people don't care much for that either. What they go to the beach for is a central part of carioca mentality, what drives much of their everyday lives; to see and especially to be seen.

I'd be lying if I said that's not partially why I go myself. I spend most of my time there eating/drinking coconuts, watching the sea. However I actually enjoy swimming around, something many Brazilians seem unable to do. But they are rather good at doing nothing and posing for the perfect tan.

The beaches have quite a colorful cast of characters, and many of them actually make their living there. These are the Camelôs, the dudes who pack around drinks and snacks for us lazy beach folk to overpay for. After renting an umbrella or some chairs, you head down towards the water and set up camp where you think the people are most attractive. If you want something, you watch for the Camelôs.

There are the dirty-beach-mate guys, who lug around two large kegs with spigots, serving what is widely known as the best mate (a kind of tea) in town. There are the regular dudes, who pull or carry coolers with water, beer or mate, maybe ice-cream sometimes too. The guys with the worst job in the world are the ones who carry around a tiny stove to cook cheese sticks. Imagine open-fire cooking in 40 degree heat, and knowing that your customers will get sick from the rotten shit you sell them.

Ipanema at dusk

But it all gets better when the famous acai guy comes around. With his megaphone, he sounds like he should work for radio. "acai acaiii! gelado e saboroso! pontificoso!" I obviously can't type out what he sounds like, but imagine the announcer guys for TV pay-per-view events, in portuguese, and you get the idea.

My second favorite is the abacaxi guy, who many people rightly dislike. He carries around a tray of cut-up pineapples, yelling "abacaxi! aaabacaxi!" But then he goes silent for a while and that's when you need to watch out. He sneaks up on people sleeping or not paying attention and yells "ABACAXI!!!", freaking them out and selling a few pineapples to their laughing beach neighbors.

Overall, yeah, the beach is great. But it really can get boring after a few hours, and after a few days you find yourself wishing to actually do something. This is one of my greatest problems in Rio; if you don't absolutely love samba and doing nothing (on the beach, for example), then can be hard to live here, which I am. But for vacation, nothing's better!

Reveillon

Copacabana beach, pre-fireworks, 2 million people

Yeah, New Year's was a while ago, wasn't it? Kinda feels like...last year. And for me in many ways it was, as I have had to learn a new way of living since then. One that doesn't take for granted the most simple of things many of us carry with us every day and wholly rely on.

But before we get to that, a few words on Brazilian New Year, or Reveillon. The name itself sounds to me like a pagan ceremony to awaken an ancient sea-beast like a kraken or something, and indeed there is an idea similar to that behind it.

So basically there are remnants of African religions in Brazil, Rio especially, like Macumba (of which I am terrified) and Candomble. Spooky voodoo/wichcraft shit to my gingo sensibilities. Wiki says, Macumba "is secretly practiced all over the world where there are Brazilian communities. Many Brazilians continue to practice their traditional religions (Christianity, Judaism, etc) but also practice Macumba secretly, usually at night or the weekends." They kill chickens and dance around and use special herbs and become possessed.

Iemanja

Anyway so Candomble is more like a real religion with priests and temples and whatnot. One of its goddesses, Iemanjá, is the protector of the ocean and closely associated with Rio. Kinda like a patron saint. This informs many traditions, practiced all around Brazil, that people perform on New Year's eve to please Iemanjá so she might bring them luck and fortune. Off the top of my head these are:

1) Wearing white. This rule is far more strict than wearing green on St. Patrick's day and is more about symbolic purity than anything else.

2) Throwing shit into the ocean. Iemanjá, being a woman, likes flowers. She likes other "objects of female vanity" as well, however toxic for the waters.


3) Floating candles. Little boats with offerings and candles, floated out to sea. Neat.

4) Eating grapes whole. Not sure what the deal is with this one, but they say you're supposed to do it and make a wish for each one you swallow. Could pose a health risk.

5) Jumping over incoming waves 7 times. My friend told me to do this with no explanation so I just did it.

6) Wearing certain color underwear. Yeah, apparently white is for luck, red for love, yellow for money, green for something else, probably health, and other things people wish for in the new year.

So that's all nice, but what most people go for is the fireworks and massive party. I got to Copacabana with some friends about 5 hours early, encountered a mostly empty beach, drunk people, and some sweet airplanes, then shacked up in a nearby apartment to load up. At around 9PM we headed to the beach. The streets were packed, busses and taxis whizzing people to their destinations, revelers crowding the sidewalks and singing, gringos awkwardly dressed in white trying to make their way to the beach. We found a good spot to set up camp next to a bunch of passed out fat people who made holes in the sand to pee in.

This story should be prefaced with a note that two years ago I had reveillon in another part of Brazil and it was a blast. I expected as much and more from Rio. As with many such expectations of the city, they where not totally fulfilled. In any case when the fireworks started we were blown away. Best fireworks ever. 20-minute show from 5-6 synchronized barges off shore, massive finale, lots of colors and sparkling. I wish I could remember more of it, but everyone said it was great and my video (almost 1,200 views!) proves as much:

Yeah! Woo! 2011! Time for drinks and doing traditional Brazilian things, like making out. I looked around and realized I was in a proverbial desert, surrounded by gringas not privy to the Brazilian way and couples already way into it. Hmm...the RedBull jamming hard in my brain, I said, 'Let's go swimming!' Not the best idea.

Imagine 2 million people on a beach, drinking. Where do they go to the bathroom? It was relatively easy for me, as I had to just saunter in and go, but the girls had less options. My suggestion to go swimming was for them a chance to relieve themselves, and the drinks worked well to help us forget that we were walking into a sea of frothy, salty urine. I was up to my knees and happy, totally not wearing clothes appropriate for the water, bringing in the new year with cheer and good will.

Until disaster struck. At least it didn't rain!

I had given all my pockets' content to a friend to hold while I waded in. I forgot to safeguard the most important thing, what I cannot live without. My glasses. A wave came out of nowhere, hit me in the back and sent me tumbling. Adenir told me these are called 'jaca' waves, alligator waves that snatch things away, but I'm pretty sure he made that up. Underwater, my hand immediately went to my face to discover my loss. Upon emerging from the break, I notified the girls, who were pointedly disinterested and unsympathetic. Unfriend!

Despair and aguish rolled over me harder than any wave. The loss of my glasses rendered me functionally blind, unable to see detail a meter past my face. Imagine wearing a scuba mask greased with a centimeter of Vaseline in the visor, all the time. Night=ruined.

pew pew pew! I don't have any pictures of what happened after.

Or was it? I thought to myself, "well, pretty much the worst thing of 2011 already happened, so it can only get better! Reveillon in Brazil is no time to be emo!" I set out to party my way deep into the the night, which I did, leading my friends along the path to fun. At points I was the most festive, dancing and singing and running about.

At around 4, once we had our fair share of avoiding people having sex on the beach, we decided to head back. We went to the metro, me leading the way since no one else knew. At the nearest station, my friends said that about 10,000 people were lining up to get in. It looked like a giant snake to me. "Let's walk home!"

And we did, about 7km through spooky tunnels and empty streets, soaking wet, unable to see, burdening my wonderful friends who took great care of me. I would have been doomed without them, they stuck by me while all others left. Here is their blog.

I got home at 5:45 or so, too tired to take a shower. The next day I put on my prescription sunglasses and have been wearing them ever since. Blessing in disguise? Adenir dubbed me 'BatNestor' in honor of my excursion, but someone else told me a 'batman' is slang for a drug trafficker. So I dunno what he meant, kinda like how an ex-boss of mine recently complemented me as 'energetic.'

Buzios

My neighborhood in Rio. Not in Buzios yet.

So Buzios was pretty nice. I think I went the day or so after Christmas. Back in 2010, remember? I woke up an hour before the bus ticket place opened, which was pretty brutal, 9AM, so walked around my 'hood for a bit. Its a really nice, quiet residential neighborhood with few or no gringoes, but has its fair share of cracked-out (literally) little kids and aggressive mendigos one would be wise to avoid. A long city bus ride to the inter-city main bus station later, I settled into a very comfortable coach next to some random woman from London, who wasn't much for conversation. Nap time!

Arriving at my hostel in Buzios I found it totally empty. Not exactly what I expected, given the stories about meeting all kinds of great people in hostels, and especially not given the 'high season' price I paid. 'Whatever,' I thought, determined to have an adventure on my own. At least I had a 6-bed dorm to myself! ("Room to bring six women home with you, eh? Ha ha ha!" an acquaintance of mine said. Yeah right, that'll be the day.)

Buzios main port or something. Don't swim there.

'Downtown' Buzios is really like any other beach or island resort town. Two main streets, lots of bars and restaurants, high prices and tourists everywhere, mostly rich, unpleasant Cariocas who won't give you the time of day and friendly Argentineans (role reversal as per Brazilian perception?).

I hit up some beaches with the remaining daylight, paranoid about leaving my stuff while I swam, always glancing back at the shore as I chilled with the fishes. I think I saw a lionfish or a stonefish or something like that. I walked back to the hostel, showered and got read to go out on the town. A pizza (what all Brazilians eat all the time), two beers, and many futile glances later, the experience finished by reinforcing my prejudice against going out by myself.

The next day I started out early to rent a scooter, a real hog, 49CCs. Burning up the asphalt, actually mostly dirt and stone, I explored Buzios' beaches in what was a wonderful day on the road. Freedom! Flexibility! This is why people get drivers licenses and motorized vehicles, I realized.

The first two beaches I saw were praia Tartaruga, which was pretty meh, and then praia Ferradura, which was family-oriented and had interesting geography as a sort of bay with a relatively small, long channel to the sea. I think I ate something there and walked around a bit. Hopping back on my ride, I braved some nasty dirt roads to check out the pocha das Tartarugas. There, I finally felt like I had 'arrived' in Buzios, as someplace with natural beauty that I could enjoy. The pocha did not have tartarugas but was pretty wild, uninhabited and seemed raw. I liked it, and it set me in a good mood for the rest of the day.

The view of Ferradura from a mansion construction site

On the mountainous, steep, pitted 'roads' to the next series of beaches, I saw mansions sprouting up everywhere. One, at the top of a hill, had only the concrete foundations poured but had an amazing view; I could tell it would be easily a R$7 million home. Buzios in general seems like the playground of the rich, and seeing all the fancy houses and hotels and especially the nightlife gave me the impression that this was not exactly a 'virgin natural peninsula' of any sort.

The authorities of Buzios take pride in the geology of the area, which is admittedly kind of interesting, calling it the 'ancient Himalayas of South America,' whatever that means. Several bays and points along the south shore have unique and beautiful features, jutting out against the waves like a mad king's fortress. Spear fishers and regular fishermen line the coast, in between the beaches. Praia do Forno and praia da Foca were pretty awesome, I had a coconut on one of them while some Americans made fools of themselves, drinking and getting sunburned. The guy who opened my coconut seemed like some crazed German gringo expat, but his Portuguese was pretty fluent so maybe he's just from the south. A group of Brazilians listened to really terrible loud music down the beach, prompting some nasty notes in my journal. I think I was just lonely.

Buzios

I wrapped up the day with a look-out point, way up on a hill I had to use my feet to get the scooter up there. And man was it worth it, with a pretty full 360 view of the peninsula and all its weird mountains and coves. From there I saw a trail leading from a nearby beach, praia Brava, to another secret beach. I vowed to check it out as soon as I could.

My friend arrived that night, and we set out, with a random American, to have a good time in town. For me, this means drinking beers and that's about it. For my friend, this means chasing girls. I suppose I could learn something from him, but he was having a tough time with the Buzios crowd. After a coked-out crazed Frenchman accosted us while we were sipping our beers, we wandered the streets, my friend calling out and trying to talk to nearly all the girls we passed. None replied. Matters were made worse when a troupe of models in extremely skimpy lingerie strutted by, promoting a local club. "Bunda! Bunda!" I could almost hear him begin to scream.

The next day I met up with the guys and they recounted a night of frustrations leveled at Carioca women. All the others - Paulistas, Mineras, Argentineans - would at least chat with them for a bit, but not the Cariocas.

Praia Brava from the top of the trail

Later, at praia Brava, which was inhabited mostly by the super-rich at a super-fancy resort right on the beach, predictably filled with French people, I explored the 'secret' trail. At the far south end of the beach it shot up into the hills, all slippery red clay and angry pointy plants. At the top of the hill I was afforded a great view and a little break to check my map.

"Great, right on track to see the 'nature beach,' like the map says" I thought. Ohh boy, what a mistaken translation that was.

At the bottom of the hill, I came upon the beach. Tiny, nestled between steep hills, with no buildings and only the trail to access it, it was a perfect natural paradise. Then two things happened. First my eyes were drawn to a sign, which struck me as strange just for being there. On the sign, it said "Praia Naturista." Ok, natural beach, that's cool, but why do they need a sign? Then, the next part: "Por favor tirar as roupas." Hmm, I thought, why would the sign ask me to take my clothes off? A sign has never asked me to do so before, and I was immediately reminded of Terminator 2.

However, those happy thoughts were shattered when the second thing happened. I scanned to the left and saw several fat naked dudes. Ah. So that's what 'naturista' means. A Paulista who had been walking behind me turned the corner and said, "I did not know about this." I agreed and we both made our way back up the hill. I felt bad for the two girls walking on the rocks along the shore, fully clothed, garnering all the attention.

My last few hours in Buzios were spent cruising around, watching old guys deliver single 'long neck' (the name for a bottle) beers to their buddies by leaning out of a moving dune buggy, and waiting for the bus, which was right on time at one and a half hours late. I'm glad I went, but of course it didn't live up to the hype and I didn't have a real 'hostel experience' as I've been told about so many times before. Is that but an elusive dream, to want to meet educated, interesting, fun people and hot girls in hostels in beach paradises around Brazil? Regardless, I am looking forward to many more solo adventures. I just wonder if I'll ever get enough!

Rio’s ‘Internal Armed Conflict’ and Counter-Insurgency

Lucky you, you get to read my article for the Rio Times before it's published on Tuesday! Enjoy.

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The end of 2010 was a busy time for Rio. Between Dilma’s election, the discovery of enormous pre-salt oil fields, and preparing for a massive Reveillon, one could almost forget Rio’s most important systemic concern. The favelas remain a central part of the city’s identity and a major source of many of its problems, and accordingly drew a good deal of attention from the U.S.’s Rio de Janeiro Consulate.

Late 2009 saw a flurry of activity in the favelas as the Favela Pacification Program and the UPP finished their first full active year with plans to expand (singling out Complexo de Alemao as the ‘epicenter of the fight’). However, foreshadowing the Navy APCs and marines in Zona Norte a few weeks ago and belying public confidence in the pacification efforts, retired Brazilian Army General Alvaro de Souza Pinheiro said in September 2009 that the Army was fully prepared to “occupy and maintain control of favelas,” given their experience in UN Peacekeeping operations around the world.

Acknowledging the lawlessness of the favelas, Pinherio said the Army is well suited for pacification, as “many officers and units were specifically trained and prepared to undertake operations related to public security and general policing in communities lacking state control.”

Wealth and poverty are not far apart here

It is significant in itself that a former high-ranking military official admits that the favelas, situated inside a megacity of one of the world’s strongest democracies, need a military occupation like those in Haiti or Sierra Leone. He is definitely not the only one to say so behind closed doors.

In November 2009 the Principal Officer of Rio’s U.S. Consulate met with an unnamed source in the International Committee for the Red Cross (ICRC) in Rio. The source explained what he could not disclose publicly because of ‘Brazilian sensitivities;’ that the situation in the favelas as of November 2009 was “for all practical purposes, a full-blown ‘internal armed conflict,’” with all the implications that such a weighty characterization entails.

While not exactly the definition used in the Geneva Conventions, Protocol II, the main features of Rio’s violence closely resemble situations around the world widely recognized as ‘internal armed conflicts.’ These include “organized factions holding the monopoly on violence in their areas while in an open conflict with rival factions or/and state forces, the humanitarian impacts on innocent civilians trapped by violence in favelas dominated by gangs, and the need for ICRC to operate as though in a war zone.”

The Consulate tentatively agreed with the source’s assessment, noting that it describes Rio’s violence better than simple urban crime. To this extent it took special interest in the Favela Pacification Program’s ‘clear and hold’ approach, which “closely resembles U.S. counter-insurgency doctrine in Afghanistan and Iraq, and highlights the extent to which favelas have been outside state authority,” reads a diplomatic cable from November 2009.

Largely a problem Rio created for itself, the favelas present a unique environment of state failure within a successful state, more similar to Fallujah or Marjah than the Ipanema and Copacabana neighborhoods next door.

Rio State Secretary for Public Security Jose Beltrame explained to the U.S. Consulate, “you cannot imagine what government neglect of the favelas have done to this city. It is a failure of public service” that the city is now paying for with blood. Although the beginning phases of the Pacification Program have gone well, it is only the beginning of the fight.

"The cat." Electrical theft is rampant

As with U.S. counter-insurgency doctrine overseas, the ‘center of gravity’ in the favelas is the population. Success wholly depends on winning the ‘hearts and minds’ of the residents, who must be made to trust and depend on the authorities, not an easy task for a government lacking legitimacy as a relative newcomer to the favelas. The crucial task is to deliver the services and benefits promised, which depends on civilian and NGO components of the Pacification Program following through after the UPPs.

Yet as of late 2009, during a visit to the pacified Dona Marta favela, U.S. representatives noted that “police officers are doing everything from assisting residents with requests for utilities to coaching sports. There is no cadre of civilian government and NGO personnel to handle those tasks, nor evidence of systematic programming for additional services.... If such a vacuum persists, it will wear down police capacity and lead to frustration among residents in pacified favelas, threatening the initial gains in those areas.”

The U.S. Consulate fully supported the Pacification Program and was enthusiastic about the results, saying they “could remake the social and economic fabric of Rio de Janeiro.” But however much U.S. support is genuinely humanitarian and good-hearted, there is no denying the enormous economic potential in the favelas.

According to José Luiz Alquéres, the president of Rio’s electric company Light, the economy of Rio de Janeiro could grow by 38 billion Reals (21 billion USD) through increased economic activity and new jobs, and 90 million Reals (45 million USD) in property and service taxes could be raised if the favelas were integrated into the rest of the city. Not a bad deal for the price tag – data from the Rio State Secretariat for Security show operations to pacify and reintegrate favelas would cost from 90 million to 340 million Reals (48 million to 183 million USD).

If Iraq is any example, we should realize that the road to favela pacification will be tough and bloody, but doable. What helped keep Iraq together was a history of strong central government and the promise of massive oil revenues. The favelas are a totally different situation, but if the authorities can coax the residents with commercial and educational opportunities, the hope of a better life, and then actually deliver that promise, perhaps Rio won't remain a city of millionaires surrounded by slums.

Happy New Year, btw.