CHAPTER VIII
Brazil—Contrast between Portuguese and Spanish South America—Moorish traditions—Amazing beauty of Rio de Janeiro—Yellow fever—The Commercial Court Chamberlain—The Emperor Pedro—The Botanic Gardens of Rio—The quaint diversions of Petropolis—The liveried young entomologist—Buenos Ayres—The charm of the "Camp"—Water-throwing—A British Minister in Carnival time—Some Buenos Ayres peculiarities—Masked balls—Climatic conditions—Theatres—Restaurants—Wonderful bird-life of the "Camp"—Estancis Negrete—Duck-shooting—My one flamingo—An exploring expedition in the Gran Chaco—Hardships—Alligators and fish—Currency difficulties.
My first impression of Brazil was that it was a mere transplanted Portugal, but a Portugal set amidst the most glorious vegetation and some of the finest scenery on the face of the globe. It is also unquestionably suffocatingly hot.
There is a great outward difference in the appearances of the towns of Portuguese and Spanish South America. In Brazil the Portuguese built their houses and towns precisely as they had done at home. There are the same winding irregular streets; the same tall houses faced with the decorative "azulejos"; the same shutterless sash-windows. A type of house less suited to the burning climate of Brazil can hardly be imagined. There being no outside shutters, it is impossible to keep the heat out, and the small rooms become so many ovens. The sinuosities of the irregular streets give a curiously old-world look to a Brazilian town, so much so that it is difficult for a European to realise that he is on the American Continent, associated as the latter is in our minds with unending straight lines.
In all Spanish-American countries the towns are laid out on the chess-board principle, with long dreary perspectives stretching themselves endlessly. The Spanish-American type of house too is mostly one-storied and flat-roofed, with two iron-barred windows only looking on to the street. The Moorish conquerors left their impress on Spain, and the Spanish pioneers carried across the Atlantic with them the Moorish conception of a house. The "patio" or enclosed court in the centre of the house is a heritage from the Moors, as is the flat roof or "azotea," and the decorated rainwater cistern in the centre of the "patio."
The very name of this tank in Spanish, "aljibe," is of Arabic origin, and it becomes obvious that this type of house was evolved by Mohammedans who kept their womenkind in jealous and strict seclusion. No indiscreet eyes from outside can penetrate into the "patio," and after nightfall the women could be allowed on to the flat roof to take the air. Those familiar with the East know the great part the roof of a house plays in the life of an Oriental. It is their parlour, particularly after dark. As the inhabitants of South America are not Mohammedans, I cannot conceive why they obstinately adhere to this inconvenient type of dwelling. The "patio" renders the house very dark and airless, becomes a well of damp in winter, and an oven in summer. To my mind unquestionably the best form of house for a hot climate is the Anglo-Indian bungalow, with its broad verandahs, thatched roof, and lofty rooms. In a bungalow some of the heat can be shut out.
On my first arrival in Brazil, the tropics and tropical vegetation were an unopened book to me, and I was fairly intoxicated with their beauty.
There is a short English-owned railway running from Pernambuco to some unknown spot in the interior. The manager of this railway came out on the steamer with us, and he was good enough to take me for a run on an engine into the heart of the virgin forest. I shall never forget the impression this made on me. It was like a peep into a wholly unimagined fairyland.