Flugtag

On Sunday, the Marina Park Hotel hosted the Red Bull Flugtag, which can be loosely translated into "people doing stupid things for the chance at money."  Setup for the event began a few weeks before we arrived in the country, including an enormous temporary shelter to house the vehicles and the ramp pictured to the right.  The estimated attendance for the event was over 20,000 people and it was the talk of the city this weekend.

Thousands of people enjoying Flugtag outside the hotel

We awoke to familiar music filling up the air at 8:30 in the morning priming mostly just the working crews and Flugtag "flight" competitors for the day's activities.  However, by the time the event started two hours later, the place had been packed shoulder to shoulder and the overflow seating filled up as shown to the right.

We have a tendency to find the only people where we go that also speak English as the day before Flugtag, we found three yachts worth of men enjoying the company of a certain "Captain."  Somehow fresh fruit kept appearing from a mysterious black backpack and was carried via blender to the pool bar area (to spare confusion, I am considering rum to be part of the fruit section of the food pyramid).  Smoothies aren't my cup of tea (or is that smoothie?) so I didn't partake but my traveling companions can attest to the heavy handed nature of these sailors.  Most of these men were crew members of ongoing projects at INACE, with the captain of one yacht having been in Fortaleza for a while, supervising the construction of his respective owner's vessel.  However, of these new faces,  two were successful Dutch businessmen taking their newly purchased yacht on a year hiatus from work.  To their displeasure but our enjoyment, they have been trapped in Fortaleza for a month as their replacement sail pays tribute to the Brazilian customs agency.  Convenient timing had us invited aboard the 60 foot, twin masted sailing yacht, "Marcia" to watch the Red Bull event in unique company and comfort.

Enjoying canine company aboard "Marcia"

Flugtag lasted for hours, with speakers projecting Portuguese toward the hotel and away from our yacht, adding to the bliss of being aboard.  We watched several of the contraptions crash to the water, but the real memories came from the company and the experience aboard "Marcia."  For the first time in about a week, we enjoyed a very different and fresh meal.  As typical college students, we ate up all of the different culture presented in food form for lunch.  Between uncooked fresh fish and an interpretation of ceviche to the backdrop of people jumping after their planes 40 feet into the water, our palettes were satisfied until dinner.

While aboard, we made a new friend in the dog that the two Dutch men bought when they picked up the yacht.  The ironic part is that they picked the two up in Portugal, which means that the dog "spoke" Portuguese.  This meant that the only person who could regularly test her tricks was our Brazilian friend who came to see Flugtag at the hotel with us.  We heard about the dog becoming accustomed to traveling aboard and how she has gotten less nervous throughout the months of sea-based travel.  At one point we looked over to see her laying down in one of the built-in cubbies for storing gear below the seats in the helm, through an opening barely large enough to fit her small body.  The water has a way of mellowing people out, and the same must hold true for dogs.

Flugtag is a dangerous activity, and Red Bull requires all of those involved to sign liability waivers.  That was a wise business decision as there were two notable injuries during the competition.  One was a case where a man walked out of the boat but was taken away on a stretcher as a precaution.  Another more serious case was someone whose plane flipped on him and landed on top.  He was later taken to the hospital where he received 70 stitches in his head.  I can't imagine I will ever be crazy enough to take that kind of risk with my life.


Oh, and today Brady earned a new rating.  He shall henceforth be known as "Brady the Underground-Airport-Terminal-Train-Riding, Portuguese-Translating, Ladies'-Man, Flugtag-Piloting, Traveling Wolverbear."

Until next time,

-David Rood

A Hard Day's Night

The day started like any other work day, but little did we know that it would last for 23 hours non-stop.  This is how it went...

Yacht being lowered into the water

We woke up around 6, showered, ate breakfast, and headed to the shipyard for a regular day of work.  After we clocked in, we headed over to the boat lift to watch a yacht being lowered into the water.  By 4 PM the engineering office had emptied out as if it were memorial day weekend here as well.  Ready to go catch the final rays of sunlight for the day at the pool, Ben and I got ready to meet up with Matt and head home before getting sucked into a great conversation with Tatiana who we've nicknamed Dona Boba (silly lady in Portuguese)... jewish goodbye initiated.  Finally we got back to the hotel, swam for a bit in the always warm pool water, and got ready to head out to explore Fortaleza with one of our new Brazilian friends.

After trying Fortaleza's chinese food... it's no TK Wu, Flavio's cousin Felipe and his friend Pedro drove us to Órbita Bar, a club featuring a Beatles cover band that kicked major ass.  After arriving there sometime after 10 (not exactly sure because we left our watches at home to avoid the possibility of theft), we got through the entrance doors, paid the $R 20 cover charge, and bought drinks.  We enjoyed drinks (keeping this vague so I have plausible deniability) and listened to a local group opening for the Beatles.  Of course as we travel, we have a knack for finding the only people in a place who also speak English in three students working as cultural exchanges in local schools before continuing in their careers.  Of these, there was an Irish, Russian, and Italian girl but it was the rapport of the Russian (let's call her Becky for anonymity) with the bar tender that proved exciting.  The bar tenders are simply crazy at this club as they light fires, ring bells, and jump up on the bar to yell at people to "drink up mother fuckers" while wielding a beer bong used for hard liquor instead.  As Becky finished the bong of straight vodka, the bar tender told her she drinks like a girl, to which she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close to yell that she drinks like a Russian.

We've learned from our friends that in Brazilian culture, kissing is not seen as a same sort of commitment as it is in the U.S.  It is very acceptable to make out with somebody that you've just met and I saw plenty of people around the club going to town with each other's mouths.  It may seem strange and I certainly didn't partake because I would very much like to avoid losing my girlfriend, but Brazilians are much more comfortable with being close to people than Americans are.  The way of meeting females by kissing both cheeks in a social setting alone makes you feel instantly more comfortable as you've already violated a personal bubble in the first instance of greeting.  Similarly, men pat each other on the shoulder all of the time for all sorts of reasons, and it's endearing enough that I've been practicing whenever I have the chance.  As a whole, if you can get over the fact that a personal bubble only exists in a theoretical world, the physical closeness of this culture is very enjoyable.

By 3:30 AM we were getting pretty restless and headed out (with sober drivers) to Pedro's family's apartment where we hung out for about another half hour and hydrated for the long ensuing day.  A cab took us back to the hotel and we passed out by 5 AM for some much needed, albeit limited sleep.

Barefoot soccer at the shipyard's field

Ben and I woke up a mere three hours after we went to bed so we could play futibol (soccer in

Portuguese and pronounced foo-che-bol) with a group of engineers that we work with.  A bunch of glasses of water later and we were on our way to the shipyard to play a bit hungover.  We all met up after 8 AM, removed our shoes and kicked the ball around practicing taking shots on goal.

After two hours of shirts vs. skins 5 on 5 soccer later we were exhausted, not to mention the fact that we were still a little dehydrated coming into the game.  What was the remedy?  More cerveja as we watch Brazil dominate Denmark in a great soccer game.  We were taken by some of our coworkers to a small, very local outdoor restaurant/bar around the corner from the shipyard.  One of the guys ordered a chicken soup that seems like a Brazilian twist on a traditional tortilla soup and offered Ben and me a taste.  We had so many tastes, that he wound up ordering a second.  Perhaps it was a taste I will later regret as this wasn't the finest eating establishment, but well worth the potential use of Immodium.

Here the incorrect time zone placement means that they take the concept of "it's 12 o'clock somewhere" very seriously as they started ordering cerveja when we got there at 10:30 AM.  Our coworkers kept ordering pairs of Skol 40's, which was fine and refreshing for awhile but became difficult as you have to drain your filled cup (at least it's a tiny cup) every time Brazil scores.  They just so happened to have made three goals in the first half... so Ben and I left at halftime out of pity on our livers.

The following five hours in the pool area, swimming to cool down then sleeping under shade on a couch was what we needed to recover from a chaotic, sleep deprived 30 hours.

Until next time,

-David Rood

We No Skol Americano

I could tell you all you want to know about the shipyard, but in this post I thought it would be interesting to discuss some of the Brazilian culture that we're observing and drinking.  Let me start off by clarifying that the drinking age here is 18, so age challenged Michigan students considering this internship in future should consider this when choosing summer employment.  Nonetheless, we're all 21 so it doesn't make a difference.

Now comes out the inner Ashley's guru.  Fortaleza, and perhaps Brazil as a whole is not known for its great drinking water, so we were encouraged to just drink bottled water here.  It's not that they don't have clean sources, but that the piping isn't up to our usual standards.  With access to so much freshwater around the two peninsulas, Michigan is perfectly situated to be one of the country's best brewing states as good beer depends wholeheartedly on good water.  Since Ceara, the state where Fortaleza is, has mediocre water, there are no microbreweries and most of the beer comes from the southern regions of the country.  Every beer that we have had so far is some rendition of a super light pilsner, almost like drinking carbonated water that packs a punch after a few.  In a way it's actually quite refreshing as I have no inclination to sit down to a room temperature Irish stout if "room temperature" means the mid-80's.

Naturally, we have tasked ourselves with the important job of trying all of the beers they sell here and not in the U.S. (of which there aren't many).  One of them is just Budweiser bottled here and given a new local name, and other popular choices are Stella Artois and Heineken to give a frame of reference, but we are trying all of the other ones we don't recognize.  So far the favorite is Skol, the namesake of this article.  To take the name one step further, I included a fun loosely connected video.

The best place to try all of the beers in at Beira Mar, our regular work night destination.  On Thursday, we took the hotel shuttle there and perched at a table along the boardwalk to drink and people watch.  Matt was recently recovering from being sick out of both ends so it was up to Ben and me to take on Brazil's cerveja (beer in Portuguese).  

While we were keenly observed female Brazilian bodies, we also were constantly approached by street vendors trying to sell us a myriad of paintings and caricatures.  The caricature artist was very intent on our business and proceeded to make his business case by pointing out how we had great features for drawing, like Matt's big nose in particular.  We have learned that it is very difficult to avoid the attention of these vendors that walk about with their wares as well as setup camp in a big outdoor market area across from where the shuttle drops off.  It is important to just completely ignore the vendors and what they are selling because they will try to follow you and haggle even if you don't respond so long as you show a hint of interest.  I have developed a process for looking at stuff in passing as if I'm trying to look somewhere else just so they don't leach onto us.  From Foakley sunglasses, to Folex watches, and fauxball jerseys, there isn't something you can't buy cheap and fake from these vendors.

In the end of the night, it was an enjoyable evening, coupled with the entertainment of an older lady falling asleep next to her presumed daughter at the table behind us.

Until next time,

-David Rood

Dia um

Today was the first full day that I spent in Fortaleza following a night of a minor exhaustion-induced hallucination.  After passing out last night for about 45 minutes, I woke up around 9:30 PM asking Ben and Matt the whereabouts of the "fourth person of our group."  Perhaps I was asking about Brady but my guess is that it was a figment of my tired imagination.  I took a quick shower to remove the layers of sweat that the humid 85 degrees adheses to your body and slept for nine hours of pure uninterrupted dormance.

Wheelhouse of Far Far Away

This morning we woke up, had a nice breakfast at the hotel, got picked up by Flavio and drove around the shipyard.  He showed us the different ships in the yard which is a good size, though substantially smaller than HHI so there is a different production process.  Most of the work for each project is done at the respective build site rather than rolling out grand blocks from a centralized panel assembly shop.  This means that all of the work is centered around the ship and the steel cutting shops are quite small.

Between office visits with all of Flavio's family (his grandparents own the shipyard), we had the chance to go aboard the Brazilian Navy cutter, "Macaé" as well as an explorer yacht, "Far Far Away" about two months away from delivery.  During these tours, my height advantage finally came into effect as I could clear all of the doorways without ducking (yay genetics!).

From a non-technical standpoint, today was a great day for exploring Fortaleza.  This driving tour gave a fascinating perspective of the wealth disparity that exists in Brazil, as Matt talked about in one of his early blog posts.  In the U.S. there are typically clear indications of "good areas" and "bad areas."  From Cleveland and later Detroit (via Ann Arbor), I understand the issues with a downtown lifestyle.  I have traveled off the beaten path in Chicago and seen sketchier neighborhoods.  Fortaleza differs in that there is no "beaten path" per se.  The areas were impoverished people live are called favelas and I gather are somewhat akin to ghettos.  They appear directly across the street from some of the most expensive high rise real estate in Fortaleza and only magnifies the economic climate here.

Something that will take some adjusting is the sun's personal agenda.  Since Fortaleza is very far east and I believe that it should be one more time zone removed from EST, the sun sets around 5:30 every day.  It's not that the days get shorter because of the winter since we are so close to the equator, but that it is just that far east and there is no daylight savings time change permanently applied.  We figured we would need to rush to the pool after work to hang onto the last hint of a sunset, but since it is lit up and stays warm all the time from the intense sun during the day (the water would be charred if it were meat) it is a nice place to go for a swim even at night as long as a towel awaits your return so you don't have to cope with a breezy air dry.  My brain says that sundown = dinner time, but not only is that far from the truth, but Brazilians also tend to eat very odd times.  Dinner at the hotel is served starting at 7:00 PM (1.5 hours after the sun sets) and continues until midnight.  This means that working through lunch to get out of work early is rewarded with an evening of hunger.

Following our 7:20 dinner (we may eat early due to our American dining tendencies), we took the hotel's shuttle to the Beira Mar area where we walked along the beachside path.  I also earned my first Brazilian beer bottle cap although we decided to sit for this one even though Brazil has no open container laws so there is no problem walking along the beach with a beer in hand.  The one thing that stood out about the area is how many people were out running.  Presumably since the intense sun, which I swear is actively searing my retinas every time I go outside during the day, comes up so early it makes sense for the people to wait until after work when the sun is already set to go outside and run in a much cooler but still well streetlight lit environment to get their exercise on.

Flavio also told us that the purpose of ice in a urinal is that it keeps smells at bay because stinky things are typically intensified due to heat and they are more visually appealing than typical urinal cakes.  As a negative result, you can clearly see where the man before you has done his business in a very well defined hole in the ice chips.  On a final note, it has been pretty difficult to score well on the melt-the-ice game since we have sweat so much due to the heat so we will have to super-hydrate on a cool, breezy overcast day to set a high score (much like Whose Line, there is no real point system).

Until next time,

-David Rood

Bem-vindo ao Fortaleza

Landing alongside another plane in Brrasilia

We landed a little after noon in the Fortaleza airport which was a major step up from the Brasilia airport.  The final approach revealed an interesting perspective as the majority of Fortaleza was flooded with red clay roof tiles.  It was reminiscent of flying into Miami but felt more authentic.  Most of the city is comprised of small two-story buildings in the same South American style architecture, but there is a drastic change in buildings as you get closer to the ocean as most people there live in high rise buildings.  The drive from the airport to the final destination at the Marina Park Hotel revealed a struggling side to Fortaleza and that the fifth-largest city in Brazil is very much like Chicago in that it has some nice areas, but if you go off the beaten path, even as you travel from the airport to the city center, you realize that not all is paradise in a city that has no winter.

We arrived at the hotel and checked in with ease and surprised Matt during a nap.  Out of hunger, we quickly headed down for Ben's and my first full authentic Brazilian meal in the hotel.  The shrimp risotto was fantastic, but it was the assortment of desserts including flan that set the meal apart.  After two plates of entrees and another taste of all of the desserts, we were ready to ignore anything anybody ever told us about waiting a half hour between eating and swimming.  We rushed back up to the room, donned our swimsuits (that I am still wearing) and noodled it up in the naturally sun-heated pools.

We also noticed that the urinals in the hotel tend to be filled with ice for some reason.  Maybe it is some kind of urban legend for reducing spray, but it is a strange concept no matter which way you cut it.  Of course, this has led to a game for the next 13 weeks: how much water can you drink during the day to try to melt all of the ice in one session (if you've ever tried to turn one of the blue urinal cakes green, you know exactly what I'm on about).  I would post a picture of this scenario, but this blog would no longer be suitable for a public audience.

Tomorrow is day one of work so I'll be sure to follow up with notes about the shipyard.

Until next time,

-David Rood

Step 2,3: ATL ==> BSB ==> FOR

So today, Brady the Traveling Wolverbear leveled up to "Brady the Underground-Airport-Terminal-Train-Riding, Portuguese-Translating, Ladies'-Man, Traveling Wolverbear."  After landing in Atlanta, Ben and I did a quick terminal change using the airport's well-known underground interterminal train and got something to eat near our gate.  This was the last time for 13 weeks that my phone was on roaming... iPhone in airplane mode activated.

Ben riding on the train in ATL

The flight from Atlanta to Brasilia started in a memorable way.  The man sitting in the seat directly behind me had misplaced his passport and boarding pass somewhere between the plane door and his seat in row 23.  The FAA couldn't clear the plane to depart knowing that he didn't have the documentation he needed to return home.  This began an onslaught of bizarre sights to see while still parked on the gate.  After he put up a verbal struggle against the Delta representatives and had the entire area repeatedly check the surroundings for the missing docs, the pilot was publicly scorning the disturbance over the intercom and informing the rest of the passengers that the flight would be further delayed since the airline is also required to remove the passenger's luggage.  Although this was inconvenient, this served as Ben's and my introduction to the Brasilian concept of travel time, a southern hemisphere adaptation of "Michigan Time."  Ben's seat neighbor, Ivan made a point that in all of his Brasilian travels, he has never seen a flight take off on time, but to the fault of the passengers' timeliness and not airline passivism.  This trend was even more obvious as we boarded in Brasilia for our final leg to Fortaleza with plenty of time to fill up a relatively empty flight yet we still departed the gate at least 20 minutes late.

As for Brady the Traveling Wolverbear's Ladies' Man status, we may have to travel together more often because I enjoyed all of the attention.  As I boarded different flights throughout the journey, the Brazilian flight attendants said things in a tone in which I'm assuming they thought he was adorable and of course made me look manly (I couldn't understand what exactly they were saying, but I think this is a safe direction to go).  A lady sitting next to us in the Brasilia terminal was also enamored with Brady and asked about him... also using broken English.

Until next time,

-David Rood

Step 1: CMH ==> ATL

Welcome back to my international travels journal 2.0.  For those of you unfamiliar with my trip to South Korea two years ago, check out shameless plug #1.

This trip follows three University of Michigan students: Ben Sward, Matt DiTullio, and myself as we journey through airports to spend 13 weeks of our summer (their winter) working at INACE in Fortaleza, Brazil.  Before you take pity on us for leaving a midwest summer for the dead of a summer hemisphere winter, do keep in mind that the average temperature in Fortaleza right now is the mid 80's... not too shabby.  As one more piece of logistics before we get onto the usual sarcastic posts with hints at humorous racism rooted in cultural ignorance, I also want to include shameless plug #2 for Matt's blog.

Brady the Traveling Wolverbear

Although I introduced Matt and Ben, I think it's now appropriate to introduce my final traveling companion: Brady the Traveling Wolverbear pictured to the right.  As we travel he will accumulate formal business titles and more areas of expertise.  If you can't figure out why we named him Brady, here's shameless plug #3.

Right now Ben just strolled up to me in the Columbus airport wielding book bag and skateboard in traditional Benjarvian fashion.

I acknowledge that this isn't really witty or funny yet so we'll work on that as more interesting things happen.  I'll try to get back on when we're in ATL to blog about Step 2: ATL ==> BSB.

Until next time,

-David Rood