Meeting Foreigners; Finding a Beach

While we were in Curitiba for two days more than we intended we did find ourselves sort of back on the tourist route.

This part of Brazil, Paraná State, is t know to foreigners but it is an industrial hub and a crossroads of sorts for Brazilian travelers. Our tour guide at Iguazu Falls is from here and Jessica said there was nothing to see in her hometown, which is a slight exaggeration. We did meet one Brazilian van lifer of note called Rafa who got a lot of attention in his country after visiting 17 states in his VW van. He has a lot of posts on his Instagram called Mapa Nomade but stopped posting in 2024 which is a shame. 

It was an all too brief encounter but the Kombi van is a popular van life vehicle  as it is widely available and it is hip. They built them in Brazil until 2014 and parts are everywhere. I struggled mightily with a 6 volt van from the 60s in my youth which did get me to Mexico and back, and later  a Vanagon in middle age which blew up repeatedly. But I do admire Brazilians and their Kombi love, wherever we see them:

In our campground at So Trailers in Curitiba we met a fascinating couple

He is Taiwanese (“not communist” he said with a laugh) who came to Brazil 40 years ago and married a Brazilian of Japanese descent. I first met her at the bathroom in the Curitiba campground while I was looking at all the stickers posted by South American travelers, no one we knew.

She had a Chihuahua next to her unleashed and her eyes boggled when she saw Rusty, leashed per campground rules. I hate when people ask me if he bites because when I say no they ignore me. That was her protocol so I never got to talk to her even in mangled Portuguese. I chatted with him a bit but communication was difficult as he couldn’t seem to read Google translate and I don’t know what language to translate into. But they were very sweet and helpful. Language barriers are such a pain.

I have no idea how they communicated, most likely I suppose in Portuguese. Love overcomes all obstacles they say.

Our plan was to leave the capital city of Paraná Stare and drive two hours to the coast. 

The weather has been much cooler and drier inland in the hills but we figured it might be time to get some sea air.

First we had to drive across this city of 1.8 million people. With railroad crossings included. 

Thereupon in the fullness of time appeared a classic Niemeyer structure: 

Layne thought it looked like a mushroom. 

Rusty thought nothing of it.

We left him in the van with the rooftop a/c cooling him nicely and walked up the ramp to go inside.

The signage is useless and when we go to the top of the ramp a security guard told us it was exit only. 

We turned around and found the ticket office where we got free tickets as we are over 60. Then we got a couple of magnets to decorate our home from the souvenir store. 

When I asked where to pay for monkeying I was directed to a blank wall with a self pay booth. Only later did I see a small sign saying credit cards accepted. The usual way is bank transfers. So I asked to pay in person and  they directed me to a booth across the rear lot.

When I got there I discovered it wasn’t a fixed price but I would have to come back to pay after we left. Then we were told no bags are allowed in the museum. So after we finished we’d have to wander around locating the parking payment booth and the bag lockers and in and in…

In a fit of ill tempered pique we paid the five bucks for the parking and scuttled back to Rusty and left. 

We regretted our hasty decision at our leisure as we started down the freeway to the beach. 

Like everything in South America when you know you know but the learning curve is steep as signage is feeble and no one knows how to explain procedures clearly. 

The road to the beach wound through the mountains with our fair share of road works in our direction and broken down vehicles in the opposite direction but somehow traffic kept moving.

Above you see a typical Brazilian mannequin waving its electronic arm to warn traffic of what’s ahead which is below: 

There were no gas stations or truck stops on our side of the highway to encourage us to stop early for the night. Boo hiss. 

The beach town looked like any typical community on the water, this one a bit rundown but with beach buns and odd characters hanging around well worn by the sea sun and sand lifestyle. It reminded me of Fort Myers Beach in the 80s.

There’s a vet if you need one! Good to know. 

We found our spot in a surprisingly crowded beach campground, with ocean glimpse. 

Rusty found his place observing the traffic flowing by and the joggers and his tail went up in a string sign of approval as we explored the facilities. 

There is one vehicle apparently from Argentina otherwise we are the only foreigners. Our neighbor turned out to be a Swiss emigre who has lived in Brazil for forty years, recently sold his company and at age 75 doesn’t know what to do with himself in retirement. 

Our neighbor had a problem with his Starlink account which to my surprise I helped him fix. He offered me his water hose to fill our tank. It’s $16 a night with all facilities but swimming is dangerous apparently owing to the undertow so we are thinking about driving back to Curitiba to the museum and from there turning back south to more well known tourist beaches. Maybe they are well known for a reason.