by Matt Lebeau

Created on: May 16, 2008   Last Updated: November 24, 2008

Observations from a Breakdown

Tumbling down the Brazilian highway seems more foreign than being on the moon. Even the pedestrian overpasses seem to resemble the lunar landscapes of science fiction and Hollywood cinema. The domed walkways painted fluorescent green and yellow decorate the highway in Martin dcor and the color combination is painfully bright next to the drab browns and grays of the favelas. The settlement of Rocinha is the largest and most renowned favela, with a population of around 150,000. Rocinha is so famous, in fact, that bus tours are offered on days when the resident drug lord isn't in a bad mood or warring against rivals. Rocinha and the rest of the shantytowns are tiny feudal societies financed by drug sales and protected by violence. Garbage lines the mud-packed streets. Kids in dirty flip-flops play beside open sewers, the stench rising as the day's heat builds. It is said that just off the main road, boys with guns lurk in the shadows, ready to question intruders and enforce the lord's rule. Ten minutes outside of Salvador, the slums dominate the banks of the highway, and yet the landscape is somehow still lost to giant billboards for baby food and soaring high-rise apartments. Escalating crime has encouraged the wealthiest Brazilians to flee to these expensive apartment complexes, surrounding themselves with electronically controlled fences and 24-hour guarded patrols. The once gracious entries to the city's skyscraper apartment buildings are now surrounded with elaborate gates and metal gratings to keep vagrants from camping on the steps.

Despite the poverty, sprawling car dealerships also begin to dot the landscape. Honda and Fiat seem to have a strangle hold on the local market, and no Suburbans or Jeeps can be seen anywhere. The monstrous sport utility vehicles that crowd the highways and parking lots in the United States appear to be completely absent in Brazil. Even the occasional mini-van is unusually out of place, in danger of being overrun by the swarm of super compacts that buzz through the soggy morning traffic.

With attention back on the road, the sights become more tropical and the smells more industrial. The trees begin to crowd everything. The stench is a musty combination of what smells like human waste, sulfur, and truck exhaust. It's a smell that completely fills the nostrils and can only be described as shit. Fortunately, the odor passes in waves like the sleepiness, both of which are gone for the moment. Factories

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