Another Day On The Move

Sunday 11 March

Our alarm clock went off on time this morning, but there was a gentle knocking on the door about a quarter of an hour later, which was the guard checking we were up for our early getaway. All the breakfast offerings were laid out when we arrived just before 05.00, but even Colin couldn’t face his usual scrambled eggs and jam. Cereals and fruit had to suffice.

A Renault Clio complete with driver waited to take us to Campo Grande – a drive we had been told would take about four hours. We had to squeeze all our luggage in – but at least there was only three people, so some bags could rest on the other passenger seat. As we left at 05.30, daylight was just breaking on the horizon and I wondered if getting up early at Rio Negro had been unnecessary. But once we were underway, the sunrise was hidden behind hedges and trees lining the red dirt road, so we missed the most stunning views. At intervals the road traversed small streams by means of wooden planks, not all in the right position, and we seemed to creep over the boards with our fingers crossed. I snoozed for part of the journey – across green plains and undulating hills, with lots of skeletal white cattle grazing in the rich grass, into areas of fruit orchards and small towns like Miranda and Aquidauana, as we left the Pantanal behind.

The airport at Campo Grande is situated on the edge of the sprawling city, where as many as three million people live. Most live in rented houses and apartments as wages are low and people describe buying a property as needing to live two lifetimes to earn sufficient money. Here most goods, like clothes, electrical goods and furniture are quoted in two prices in the shop windows – one the cash price and the second the credit price – there is no such thing as interest free credit here - and Ariane admitted that she and her family bought most items on credit. Families live together – new rooms added to a house as more offspring come along – and the children only move out when they get married. They tend to have an arrangement that Mum and Dad pay the mortgage or rent, while the children, once they go to work would pay (on credit) for the washing machine or fridge, or if there are enough of them, the car. Colin checked his mobile and we were in touch with the wide world once more.

We arrived at Campo Grande airport at 08.30 – in record time from Caiman Lodge - but there was very little traffic out early on Sunday morning and the roads had been clear. Our flight was the second plane of the day, at 11.25. The first – late again – was supposed to go to Brasilia at 10.15, and only a few passengers – not many people go to Brasilia – the capital. As the time neared for our flight, more and more people arrived – there was not another flight for until two hours after we were due to take off – and the queue stretched outside the main entrance doors to check-in – it was a blessing we had arrived early. There was only half an hour between our flights at Sao Paulo, and seeing the first plane touch down more than half an hour late, didn’t inspire us with too much confidence that we would successfully make our connection.

But the Tam plane surprised us by arriving only a minute or two late, and the expected departure time was shown as “on time” – perhaps there were others who had short transfer times to meet. We had been hoping to see Ariane here today, to collect a CD of the wildlife we had seen at Rio Negro, but by the time boarding was announced she had not arrived. We had asked to have seats near the front, so that we could make a quick escape after landing, and we had duly been allocated row 2. People occupying seats in row 1 seats on Brazilian airlines always seem to be asked to move to the back so that the disabled, families with young children and whingers could sit there. We had the crying baby this time, but once the flight was underway, she was much quieter. We were fed the usual hot ham and cheese rolls – they should make this the symbol of South American flying – during the one and a half hour flight – we lost an hour again, and returned to being just three hours behind London.

It was a miracle – probably our first flight on this continent to land on time – 13.50 – but the pilots always seem to park way out on the runway so that a bus is needed to take you to the terminal. We were obviously quickly off the plane and it wasn’t long before the coach was crammed full and we were taken on a tour of the airport, eventually arriving in the basement at some far flung point. We raced through baggage control – with fingers crossed that our cases would have time to follow us – out and back in the building and up the escalator to the first floor, through security – I had remembered to remove all sharp objects today – to find that Gate 3 was nearby – and our plane was already boarding. We had seats in row 2 again, so didn’t have far to go to find our seats, although there were many people who just don’t seem to understand numerical rows – or don’t look at the seat numbers on their tickets. They stand just inside the door, peering at the small numbers above the rows of seats and look around for help from the hostesses, before choosing to sit in a completely wrong seat that just happened to be empty and then have to move later as the real ticket holder arrives – I think this has been worse in Brazil than anywhere else on our travels.

This flight also took off on time (two in one day!) at 14.20 and was uneventful – another hot ham and cheese roll, with soft drink on our way to Porto Seguro, a seaside resort, a couple of hours up the coast from Sao Paulo. When we landed, most of the passengers decamped, and the cleaners arrived with hoovers and pink rubbish bags and proceeded to clean the aircraft as best they could. Surprisingly the plane was full again by the time we took off – we had been told that Brazilians love the beach and go there as often as possible, so presumably most of these passengers had spent the weekend enjoying the delights of the seaside – there were many couples with children and all the attendant bags. We were given a bag of peanuts and a soft drink on this leg of the journey.

Arriving in Salvador Bahia (means “bay”) at around 17.30 we had a long wait for our luggage to appear on the carousel, all the time hoping it had made the transit safely. The airport was chaotic as three planes with two hundred plus passengers each, had all trundled up the runway together, and the disembarked passengers were all trying to find their luggage. It was with a great sigh of relief that Colin espied first my pink case, and then a few minutes later, his blue one. Maria, our new guide, was waiting outside – thinking we had missed the flight as we took so long – and soon had us loaded into yet another Renault Clio – much too small for all our luggage and four people – and on our way to the convent.

The airport is more than half an hour’s journey outside the city and we seem to travel though industrial areas and high rise apartment blocks to reach the Historical Centre and the Convento do Carma – an old 17th century convent, now converted into a wonderful hotel – the equivalent of the Copacabana Palace in Rio. The staff were just as attentive as we stepped out of the car on to a cobbled road and into a front receiving hall, tiled and painted in the ancient Portuguese style. Inside we passed through the first cloisters – long lengths and arches of wood covered in white plastic were littering the grass so we thought they must be doing renovation works – and entered the second cloister and reception room – an extremely high ceilinged room with stone walls and furnished with beautiful arm chairs and lots of dark wood. There was monastic chanting playing quietly in the background and the whole feeling was of walking into a cool, tranquil sanctuary. The male receptionist reminded me of Rowan Atkinson, with a slightly squeaky precise voice and he immediately offered us drinks as he welcomed us to Salvador – champagne, fruit juice or other drinks of our choice – I chose champers of course. The receptionist explained the layout of the hotel with the use of a map, including the two chapels for our use if required. We were given a conducted tour by the porter in a smart purple colonial uniform whilst conducting us to our room. We were on the 3rd floor, in a room in the eaves looking out over the second cloister with its blue circular pool in the middle, from which fountains all round the edge spurted inwards. It was a largish serene room, with a dark wooden apex ceiling, a huge bed, and the best chaise lounge I have ever sat on – once I tried it, I didn’t ever want to get up again - and an internet connection! The porter finished his monologue and went away to find our cases. We found the bathroom through two small French wooden doors, which pulled towards you. It was ‘divine’ – sorry about the pun – with a huge walk in shower – where you could hold a cosy party for twelve at least – with a huge round silver drenching spray and black and gold granite tops. There were lots of mirrors and different lighting effects to ensure the right effect was achieved.

The convent belonged to the Carmelite order, but built in the Jesuit style, at the start of the 17th century, with a bold neoclassical interior. From 1624 to 1625 it housed a quarter of the Dutch troops trying to wrest this area from the Portuguese. Eventually they signed the surrender document in one of the rooms. Apparently it is possible to tour the Sacristy and the Church, so we may take up that option in the days to come. The alterations into a hotel had been carried out with style, ancient building meeting minimalist modern interior to great effect – I loved the huge plate glass doors with glass knobs, and the chrome railed balconies suspended by wires from the ceiling that made up the corridors on the third floor. The rooms on the ground floor – the reception, library, reading room, and dining room - still appeared to be as they were centuries ago, with just the addition of luxurious, rich-coloured furnishings and pictures around the creamy stone walls. The windows were still small, and high up on the walls so that the outside world could not peer in. It is very easy to imagine the nuns in their black habits prowling the cloisters, studying in the rooms and eating in the refectory – it would be so easy to go back in time.

By now it was after 19.00 and we just had time to whiz off a couple of emails and shower before going down for dinner. Maria had given us a list of recommended, restaurants. but as time was passing quickly, we decided to eat in the hotel. We sat along the cloister walk in sumptuous armchairs, shielded from the pool by huge pots of greenery, and ate superb food – steer for Colin and doe for myself – my meat came seated on a long, very thin flaky pastry apple tart! Colin couldn’t resist dessert, and chose a passion fruit mousse in the hope that I might have a spoonful – I didn’t disappoint.

There was time then to publish some entries on the blog – to let those at home know we were still in the land of he living. After our early start this morning and needing to be ready for a city tour at 09.00 tomorrow morning, it then seemed wisest to sink into what appeared to be a sumptuous bed – there were enough pillows for about six people on each side – a duvet without a cover just the under sheet (very strange) and a small throw across the bottom of the bed – sheepskin on one side and blankety on the other. And it was sooo comfortable. We both fell asleep almost immediately.