Recife (pronounced heh-ci-fe in Brazilian Portuguese) is named after the offshore reefs. It's a fairly large city of about 2.5 million and will be my point of departure in 10 days or so. There aren't really any must-sees in Recife but it is just next door to Olinda, which is supposed to contain some architectural gems from colonial Brazil so most travellers go there instead. Although the Dutch women thought it was overrated and worth only a day. Anyway I'll report on that in due time and not prejudge. But first to pick up the story upon leaving Pipa...
I decided to skip João Pessoa, the capital of the tiny state of Paraiba, sandwiched between Rio Grande do Norte and Pernambuco. There doesn't seem to be much there for a traveller except maybe some chilling out. The attraction of visiting the easternmost point of South America wasn't enough. First I took a shuttle bus from Pipa to Goianinhas which is on the main highway. After waiting about 30 minutes at the bus stop, the intercity bus from Natal to João Pessoa turned up. The girl at the roadside stall was kind enough to confirm that I was at the right place. During that time I was propositioned by taxi drivers, both registered and not. I didn't think there were any benefits, probably more cost and risk (not covered by travel insurance as the unregistered ones are not an official form of transport) so I declined.
What with the Brazilian anti-Global Fried Chicken stimulus of improving the highway and slowing down the traffic with the construction sites, the bus reached João Pessoa rodoviaria about 1230. I had just an hour to buy a ticket to Recife and eat lunch at a short-order lanchonete.
The bus to Recife reached the rodoviaria about 1700, after first dropping off most passengers at a Praça Derby, which I discovered later is near the centre, but not near enough to the central station so I am glad that I stayed on the bus until the rodoviaria about 17km outside the city. My plan was to take the Recife metro to the centre, change lines to go to the airport. There is an Aeroporto metro stop. I was a bit on guard against pickpockets but the metro wasn't very crowded so this wasn't really a concern. It was a bit crazy that I had to backtrack but that's the crazy logic of transport sometimes.
The Aeroporto metro station is a bit of a con, I discovered. It is about 10 minutes walk to the airport terminal, and you have to cross a busy road and also an airport access road. Not hard, but obviously not encouraged. No walkway or anything. Obviously the people who matter arrive by car or taxi. The next day I discovered that the bus is only slightly better, you have to cross the airport access road and is about half the distance as from the metro station. Come on Pernambuco, you have to do better than this if you hope to attract tourism. I hope you have plans to link up the metro station to the airport, otherwise it doesn't deserve to bear its name.
After buying the plane ticket, I decided I was too tired to use the bus to reach the hostel so I asked the airport people to arrange a taxi for me.
The area containing the airport and the eponymous main beach is called Boa Viagem (Good Journey) and there are canals along some of the streets. You can smell the putrefaction from the canals. It reminded me of the Singapore my father used to take us to when I was a kid. I remember that Sungai Road, where many second-hand dealers could be found, also stank like Recife. (My dad liked to trawl through trash for "treasure".) And the thundering traffic flowing down many of Recife's one way streets is also Singapore-like. But there the resemblance ends because Singapore is squeaky clean, not a dab of chewing gum to be found anywhere while Recife is typical urban Brazil with broken pavements and rubbish in the gutters.
Even the taxi driver got lost in the maze of one-way streets and had to ask people at street corners for directions a few times.
The hostel was occupied mostly by Brazilian travellers, so no travel story swaps or meal buddies. For the reasons already mentioned most international travellers go to Olinda instead. But all I wanted was a night in a place convenient to the airport the next day.
The next morning I explored Boa Viagem beach a little. They have tried to turn it into a smaller version of Copacabana beach in Rio de Janeiro, but the sharks in the water (the reefs may have something to do with this) and the murky water discourage most swimmers. Lots of joggers and volleyball players though.
There are lots of high rise apartments for the people who can afford to live in such places.
On the way back to pick up my backpack from the hostel to go to the airport, I spotted a sugar cane vendor on the street and indulged in this treat, found in countries that cultivate sugar cane, like Cuba, Malaysia and of course, Brazil. His cart says Caldo de Cana do Amigo Bigode (Sugarcane Juice from the Moustached Friend). Yes, he had them.
I decided to skip João Pessoa, the capital of the tiny state of Paraiba, sandwiched between Rio Grande do Norte and Pernambuco. There doesn't seem to be much there for a traveller except maybe some chilling out. The attraction of visiting the easternmost point of South America wasn't enough. First I took a shuttle bus from Pipa to Goianinhas which is on the main highway. After waiting about 30 minutes at the bus stop, the intercity bus from Natal to João Pessoa turned up. The girl at the roadside stall was kind enough to confirm that I was at the right place. During that time I was propositioned by taxi drivers, both registered and not. I didn't think there were any benefits, probably more cost and risk (not covered by travel insurance as the unregistered ones are not an official form of transport) so I declined.
What with the Brazilian anti-Global Fried Chicken stimulus of improving the highway and slowing down the traffic with the construction sites, the bus reached João Pessoa rodoviaria about 1230. I had just an hour to buy a ticket to Recife and eat lunch at a short-order lanchonete.
The bus to Recife reached the rodoviaria about 1700, after first dropping off most passengers at a Praça Derby, which I discovered later is near the centre, but not near enough to the central station so I am glad that I stayed on the bus until the rodoviaria about 17km outside the city. My plan was to take the Recife metro to the centre, change lines to go to the airport. There is an Aeroporto metro stop. I was a bit on guard against pickpockets but the metro wasn't very crowded so this wasn't really a concern. It was a bit crazy that I had to backtrack but that's the crazy logic of transport sometimes.
The Aeroporto metro station is a bit of a con, I discovered. It is about 10 minutes walk to the airport terminal, and you have to cross a busy road and also an airport access road. Not hard, but obviously not encouraged. No walkway or anything. Obviously the people who matter arrive by car or taxi. The next day I discovered that the bus is only slightly better, you have to cross the airport access road and is about half the distance as from the metro station. Come on Pernambuco, you have to do better than this if you hope to attract tourism. I hope you have plans to link up the metro station to the airport, otherwise it doesn't deserve to bear its name.
After buying the plane ticket, I decided I was too tired to use the bus to reach the hostel so I asked the airport people to arrange a taxi for me.
The area containing the airport and the eponymous main beach is called Boa Viagem (Good Journey) and there are canals along some of the streets. You can smell the putrefaction from the canals. It reminded me of the Singapore my father used to take us to when I was a kid. I remember that Sungai Road, where many second-hand dealers could be found, also stank like Recife. (My dad liked to trawl through trash for "treasure".) And the thundering traffic flowing down many of Recife's one way streets is also Singapore-like. But there the resemblance ends because Singapore is squeaky clean, not a dab of chewing gum to be found anywhere while Recife is typical urban Brazil with broken pavements and rubbish in the gutters.
Even the taxi driver got lost in the maze of one-way streets and had to ask people at street corners for directions a few times.
The hostel was occupied mostly by Brazilian travellers, so no travel story swaps or meal buddies. For the reasons already mentioned most international travellers go to Olinda instead. But all I wanted was a night in a place convenient to the airport the next day.
No comments:
Post a Comment