A history of coffee in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and the best cafes to get some for yourself

by Jessica Festa on

Want to know where you can find some of the best coffee in the world? While your local coffee shop probably has some decent brews, you can find the really good stuff in São Paulo, Brazil.

Introduced by Francisco de Melo Palheta in the eighteenth century – from seeds smuggled in from French Guiana – coffee was Brazil’s greatest economy booster from the early nineteenth century until the 1930s. Concentrated in the Paraíba Valley between Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, and later around the red soil areas of the countryside of São Paulo and Paraná, it was the country’s main export for almost 100 years.Large coffee plantations

In the beginning, coffee plantations were small, isolated worlds of their own. They sat on expansive properties and incorporated slave work, which was later replaced by regular employees and immigrants. Today, coffee is produced in more factory-type farms, and these traditional plantations are no longer operational. They can, however, still be visited in the São Paulo countryside. The visits can provide a trip back in history, as traditional architecture, machinery and slaves’ barracks can still be seen on the properties.

One important aspect in coffee production was the size of the available workforce. To help create a higher output, the administration of the state of São Paulo made the immigration issue the focus of its activities, establishing a program that supported European immigration. Advertisements were run all over Europe, and immigrants were brought from their homes to the coffee farms. This allowed for rapid development in São Paulo.

With immigrant labor, the culture of coffee gained momentum and – for three quarters of a century – almost all of the country’s wealth was concentrated in coffee agriculture. Coffee farmers became the social and political elite and the new aristocracy in Brazil. This helped industrialization and allowed for the construction of large and beautiful farm houses and mansions in São Paulo.

The crack of 1929

The international crisis of 1929 had an immediate dual effect in the Brazilian economy: while it reduced international demand for Brazilian coffee and pushed prices down, it prevented the Brazilian government from borrowing international funds to absorb the surplus stocks of coffee. However, the government could not abandon the vulnerable producers and, from this period on, the Brazilian government began to play an active role in the economy. Coffee was something so important to the Brazilian economy, many began to call it the “green gold.”

Brazilian coffee today

Currently, Brazil is the world’s largest producer of coffee, accounting for 30% of the international coffee market. This is equivalent to the production of six other major producing countries. The coffee grounds are concentrated in four major producing states: Minas Gerais, Paraná, Espírito Santo, and, of course, São Paulo. So where can you get a little sip of heaven for yourself? Here is a list of the city’s top coffee shops and padarias (bakeries) where you can get the best brews that São Paulo has to offer.

Coffee Shops:

  • Arábia Café (pictured)- Opened in 2007, they serve coffees, sandwiches, and Brazil’s famous esfihas, savory pastries filled with meat, vegetables, and spices.
  • Coffee Lab– This roasting lab focuses on micro brews and features coffees with unique characteristics.
  • Nespresso (Nestlé boutique)– This famous brand developed exclusive capsules called Novo Dulsao do Brasil, which combine tastes of honey and malt.
  • Octavio Café & Bistrô– An official coffee evaluation done by the Universidade de São
    Paulo revealed that this venue serves some of the highest quality coffee in the area in terms of a full sensual experience.
  • Santo Grão– Here you will find select Brazilian blends, which are served fresh ground and roasted. You can even call the shop to see when the next round of coffee grinding will be, so you can watch the process for yourself.

Padarias:

  • Bella Paulista– This fusion bakery combines fresh coffee and baked goods with a pizza and snack bar, fulfilling every craving you may have.
  • Benjamin Abrahão Mundo dos Pães– This very traditional padaria has been open since 1952, and serves some of the best coffee in São Paulo.
  • Di cunto– Also very traditional, this padaria has been open since 1935 and has been developing their product over time.
  • Dona Deôla– This venue was opened in 1948 by Mrs Dona Deola, a Portuguese immigrant. Her hard work over the years has paid off, and her successful products have allowered her to open four bakeries.
  • Galeria dos Pães– If you want delicious coffee and great service at any time, this bakery has over 200 employees and 24 hour service.

[photos via anthony_p_c, DrikvdM, andybullock77, Arabia Cafe]

Meet the artists of Kanazawa, Japan

by Jessica Festa on

Kanazawa is an often overlooked destination in Japan, as travelers often assume the city has little to offer. In reality, the area has a breathtaking landscape, rich culture and a plentiful arts scene that has been around for generations.

Kanazawa’s thriving arts community dates back to the sixteenth century, when the powerful samurai family the Maeda clan brought hundreds of artisans from around Japan to the area. Over the following 500 years, the arts flourished — most notably in mediums of lacquer, gold leaf, ceramics, glass, silk and metalwork.

Today, Kanazawa’s artists and artisans still practice these traditional crafts. Furthermore, the city supports an active geisha culture, Noh theatre, an energetic poetry community, and a rapidly expanding network of contemporary artists. For tourists, this means the opportunity to visit working studios, meet the artists, understand the process, and in some cases, try a workshop for themselves. Kanazawa’s artists are proud of their community and feel the city’s small size encourages a strong support system that is hard to find in larger cities.

To learn more about art in Kanazawa and to meet some of the local artists, check out the gallery below.

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Vagabond Tales: Everyone wants to stay in a castle, even presidents

by Kyle Ellison on

I doubt there is anyone in the world that, if given the chance, wouldn’t want to stay in a castle.

It’s a shame that modern architecture has strayed away from castles, because there are few structures that possess the innate ability to be stoic yet romantic, welcoming and yet terrifying all at the same time. Castles conjure images of a bygone time of messengers on horseback, swords in stones, and fantastical mystery and lore.

They are the realm of princesses, knights, and royalty who swap principalities, fiefdoms, and duchies all with a flick of the wrist, a gnaw on an oversized drumstick, and a quaff from a jewel encrusted goblet, most likely made of solid gold. These are the people who spend nights in castles.

And now, apparently, so can you.

While planning a road trip across the northwestern reaches of Ireland, I stumbled upon a site like no other I had ever seen before: Celtic Castles — an entire site devoted to helping you live like a medieval badass while making your journey across England, Wales, Scotland, France, or Ireland.

Plus, they were offering steep discounts, which brought the price just low enough to make a one night stay a feasible splurge.

For those who have never visited the Emerald Isle, there are few places more stunning than the forested and perpetually soggy reaches of Connemara, the region located in the island’s northwestern corner. Connemara is the type of place where you throw on a flannel shirt and enjoy a hot cup of seafood chowder in a pub made of gloriously dark wood. Maybe have a Guinness, sit by a window, and watch the mist roll over the golden slopes of the Twelve Bens.

The only thing that would make it more perfect would be if you were wearing that flannel, drinking that Guinness, and eating that chowder from the cozy confines of a restored 18th century castle. Oh, and maybe if you were staying in a room that once housed a former U.S. president.Pulling into the driveway of Ballynahinch Castle was like pulling into a rural Irish utopia. A long,meandering ribbon of asphalt, which twists its way amongst deciduous trees and passes over stone bridges situated over gently babbling brooks — it almost looks fake.

Entrenched in a secretive plan to surprise my wife, who was certain we were staying in the hostel in the nearby town of Clifden, I chalked the foray down the driveway up to simply wanting to photograph some castles. Luckily, she bit, and the ruse was still alive.

Not more than ten minutes later we found ourselves ambling amongst the fireplace warmed interior of the Ballynahinch Castle lobby, black and white photographs of anglers adorning the walls of the adjacent pub.

As I attempted to check in on the sly, my wife found her way to the restaurant overlooking the 26,000-acre property and began discreetly taking pictures of the silverware. That’s what you do when you live a life of a traveling vagabond. You don’t own fine cutlery, but rather, you photograph it. Such is the life.

Finally, the exquisitely dressed woman occupying the reservations desk handed over our key for the evening and pointed me in the direction of one of their “classic” rooms upstairs.

“What are you doing?” questioned my wife, suddenly back from her foray into the dining lounge.

“I’ve gotten us a room for the night.”

The fireplace in the nearby living room crackled as a bearded gentleman read a newspaper in an overstuffed chair.

“No you haven’t. There’s no way we could ever stay here. Why do you have a key?”

Catching on for the first time that this was a surprise endeavor, the fine woman at the desk interjected with what to this day I consider to be one of the finest interruptions I have ever experienced.

“It appears as if this is a surprise,” she wittily quipped in a perfect Irish brogue. “Tell you what. We’ve just had a cancellation in another room. Would you perhaps prefer an upgrade? It’s on us.”

Now there were two sets of googly eyes occupying the dark wood foyer, those of my still baffled wife and my own face mystified at our dumb luck.

“Follow me. Our staff will grab your bags.”

For the record, when you backpack around the globe on endless walkabouts, never, ever, do you have people offer to carry your bags. This, it appeared, was beginning to be a window into how the 1% live.

Navigating a labyrinth of sunken passageways, narrow hallways, and simple staircases, I felt the only thing missing was a torch, a cloak, and a secret agenda. I couldn’t believe it. We’re in a castle being led to the best room in the house!

Finally reaching our destination, our castle chauffeur inserted a long brass key into a modern looking door and casually swung it open.

Before us lay a room of a substantially higher caliber than I feel most twenty-something international wanderers are accustomed to. A four-post bed and ambient lighting highlighted a room, which featured ground floor window views out onto the banks of a gently flowing river.

Stunned, and for lack of a proper display of my gratitude, my attention shifted to an old photograph I had seen hanging in the hallway en route to the room.

“Who was that guy in the photo we passed on the way here?” I asked out of the blue.

“Oh you don’t recognize him? I figured since you were American you would know. That was President Gerald Ford. He stayed in this same room. Have a good night and we look forward to seeing you both for dinner.”

Want more stories? Read the rest of the Vagabond Tales here…

What will you do if the Mayan calendar is correct?

by Jessica Festa on
Lately, there has been a lot of controversy surrounding the end of the Mayan calendar and 2012 marking the end of the world, as we know it. To help gain some insight, the people over at First Choice have created this infographic to give everyone a fun visual of where and how one could spend their last year on Earth. The group polled over 2,000 United Kingdom locals as well as some top travel bloggers. While 51% of participants said they would spend time with family, 22% said they’d want to see the world. How would you respond?

If you’re having trouble viewing the infographic, you can click here to see a larger version.

The 2012 Bucket List was created by First Choice – The Home of All Inclusive

Vagabond Tales: Scuba diving Nicaragua in a lightning storm

by Kyle Ellison on

In spite of being one of the poorest countries in the western hemisphere, many travelers list Nicaragua as their hands-down favorite country in Central America. The colonial heritage of Granada and Leon, the world-class surf of Popoyo and San Juan del Sur, and the relaxing feel of the islands, these are all highlights of Nicaragua that draw visitors back time and again.

Wait. Did you just say the islands? Since when are there islands in Nicaragua?

While a fair amount of travelers pay a visit to Isla de Ometepe, a volcanic island located in the middle of Lake Nicaragua which is home to some of the world’s only freshwater sharks, not as many people venture off the Caribbean coastline to Las Islas del Maiz, an isolated grouping better known as the Corn Islands.

Reachable via a short flight from the coastal outpost of Bluefields (or an all day/overnight ferry), the Corn Islands were originally colonized by the British and have a distinctly more Caribbean feel to them than the Latin influence found back on the Nicaraguan mainland.

They are also reputed to have some of the best scuba diving along the Central American coastline, which is what ultimately lured me into stuffing myself into a 15-seater prop plane for a flight to the middle of nowhere. Little did I know that heading into this dive trip, things were going to get just a little bit weird.

Having arrived in Big Corn Island after an uneventful flight, a brief taxi ride and fistful of Nicaraguan córdobas landed me on a 30-minute panga ride to Little Corn Island, population 800. With a land area that barely exceeds 1 sq. mile, Little Corn has no motorized vehicles and a single, sandy footpath, which serves as the island’s pedestrian highway.

Shacked up in a multi-colored, refreshingly rustic beach bungalow at Casa Iguana, arrangements were made for doing an offshore boat dive the following morning with Dive Little Corn, one of only two dive operators on the entire island. I was introduced to our dive master, a local Nicaraguan man who would be leading us into the crystalline waters the following morning. From his wide smile and affable demeanor he didn’t appear to be the type of person who would take pleasure in manhandling sharks. Apparently, I would be wrong about this.After an enormously satisfying dinner of locally caught barracuda, I rose the next morning to the sound of heavy raindrops crashing violently onto the bungalow’s tin roof.

The rainy season for Central America generally spans from May to December, often heaviest in September and October. On the bedside table of the bungalow sat my boarding pass from yesterday’s flight. The date read October 11th. A brief look outside confirmed that this rain meant business.

Throwing on an old blue rain jacket, I opted to skip breakfast and hustle down to the dive shop for an update. With each step I trod down the puddle-laden walkway, the rain and wind increased by ferocious leaps and bounds. As I emerged from the soggy bush and rounded the corner towards the dive shop, deafening claps of thunder and frequent blasts of lightning added an orchestra to the tempestuous sky.

There was no way we were going to dive in this.

There in front of me, however, stood our resilient dive master diligently loading tanks, BCD’s, and regulators onto a silver boat that bucked like a rodeo bronco atop the churned up sea.

Amidst the maelstrom that had momentarily engulfed this Caribbean paradise, it suddenly became apparent that this dive was still a go. Any momentary hesitation I may have once felt immediately changed to reckless excitement. I mean, why not dive Nicaragua in a lightning storm?

After all, as the sign above my desk reads, “all bad decisions make good stories.” I tried to keep this in mind as I watched lightning flashes strike nearby from the comfort of a soaking wet metal boat.

As it turns out, once beneath the surface of the water the lightning storm became completely irrelevant. The water clarity was on par with dives from Thailand to Hawaii, and for a moment I was finally able to relax and enjoy drifting weightlessly past colorful fan coral and vibrant underwater pinnacles.

That was, of course, until we started petting nurse sharks, which is an experience probably best left for an entirely different column.

Though the scene may have been tranquil at 80 ft. below the surface, the storm back where we had left the boat had reached incredible new levels of intensity. Surfacing from the dive amidst constant flashes of piercing white light, the hard metal boat bounced about the ocean like a toy boat in a tub.

“No te preocupes,” the captain warmly comforted me as he helped schlep my gear back aboard the soaking wet vessel. His calm demeanor stood in stark contrast to the atmospheric fury taking place all around us, and his broad smile revealed a number of missing teeth.

“Todo está bien,” he surmised. It’s all good. As the threat of being struck by lightning seemed to be an inevitable reality, however, all did not currently appear to be good.

As legendary travel writer Pico Iyer discussed in a recent piece on Gadling, often times while traveling we must accept that we are no longer in control. There are forces of the universe far greater than we are, which can determine our ultimate fate, and when we strike out on the road and remove ourselves from our comfort zone, we often are left with little more to do than sit back and enjoy the ride.

And what if that ride is on a rollicking metal panga with a shark stroking dive instructor while surrounded by electrically charged bolts of absolute and certain death?

Just follow the thinking of a Nicaraguan boat captain: todo está bien. Just roll with it and see where you go.