Day before the day before the Day of the Dead!

National Holiday November 2nd - Dia de Finados (Day of the Dead)

Hello Peeps!
As destiny would have it, tomorrow October 31st is a regional holiday in the state of Para, Northern Brazil and Friday is a National Holiday called Day of the Dead, and I have every intention of participating, from this side! The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and family members who have died. Traditions connected with the holiday include building private altars honoring the deceased using sugar skulls, marigolds as well as the favorite foods and beverages of the departed and visiting graves with these as gifts. They also leave possessions of the deceased.
With Saturday off, I should be able to take in the celebrations on Friday night.

Not too much else to report. I'll take advantage of this lull in excitment to post some random pics and hopefully by Saturday, I'll have a new adventure to report on.  :)

Local Kal Tire

Yours truly hitching a ride on the local taxi service to retrieve my bike, which was locked to a tree on the other end of town...

The Municipal Marjet I discovered in Ourilandia

Abacate avacados for sale...

Beans and corn for sale...

Corn...

Bananas by the bunch!

Roadside sales

Arivaldo's "Piella" dish he cooked last Sunday night...

 

 

 

Pineapples now in season!

 

Where I eat breakfast every morning... Granola and mangos!

 

The daily (day after day after day) selection...

 

Damn weeds (on the way between my room and breakfast every day)

 

My room, my wheels... :)

 

Every saint has a past and every sinner a future...

Forgive me, faithful readers, for lagging behind.  My friends who know me, the good Saint Kevin, will testify to the fact that I rarely partake of life’s vices.  I am just that angelic and until this weekend (with Saturday off to recuperate), I was working on perfect karma for my next life. But now, any illusions of a better life in the next is shattered.  For this, I blame my two amigos (an English Brazilian named Peter and a fun loving kiwi named Chris) for demolishing my good name in this town… I am starting all over again.  That confession complete, and with an aching head, I do admit we went out to a resort called the Muiraquita on Friday night where the beer and the spirits flowed easily. I hereby deny anything that happened after that. There was a musician singing Portuguese love songs to the accompaniment of his acoustic guitar and we had the benefit of a wood fired oven from which delicious piping hot pizzas came to our table via a delightful waitress named Lara.  Pizzas in this region are baked on a thin crust without tomato sauce and ingredients include the standard onions, mushrooms, cubed ham or bacon, as well as mystery meat, kernels of corn, dried tomatoes and either basil or oregano leaves all held together with generous gobs of melted mozzarella.  When the draft beer ran out, we turned to bottled and when that started getting old, Peter (who is a good friend with the owners) started mixing us “caipirinhas” made with distilled sugar cane alcohol, lime and cinnamon.  Very tasty but apparently potent, because everything is foggy after that. I have vague flashbacks but some memories are best left hazy.  The important thing is that I left my bicycle padlocked to a tree and got home safely.  One is best advised not to pedal drunk through a town with no stop signs and no drunk driving laws in the late hours of the night. I have no explanation for the donkey named Rosey still tied outside my hotel…

 

Here are some pics of the resort we went to:

 

Amigos Peter, Chris, and yours truly...

 

The local beer (Cervesa - Para = Cerpa!) Goes down all too easy... :)

 

Our musician and maestro for the evening...

 

The wood fired pizza oven. 3 minutes is all it takes.. Delicioso!

Pizza prep area...

Ahhh the Caipirinhas...

The resort in the daylight...

Poolside

 

Love these rain forest picnic tables!

 

 

 

 

Now, that's a bar!

A quote, probably from "A Midsummer Nights Dream" about the importance of dreams...
 

 

 

Midnight in Paris

Midnight in Paris

Chapter 4

It was unnaturally warm for a late summer night. Brakes squealed, cars accelerated, glass bottles rattled in wicker baskets on bicycles going by. Neighbours were still yelling friendly banter at each other through the windows of their apartments across the cobbled streets far below. It was midnight in Paris, a late September evening and the “City of Romance” was showing no signs of going to bed anytime soon. He was hungry, hungry but not for food that comes on a plate; he had eaten a bowl of French onion soup on the Champs Elysees just a few hours ago. No, his hunger was for sights and sounds and scents to add to his collection of memories, along with as many smiles as he could find.

He nodded at the clerk and stepped out of the lobby of his hotel onto the tiled sidewalk following the natural slope of the city south towards the river Seine. He strolled leisurely down the Rue de Louvre where he could walk in any direction for hours and never grow tired of entertaining his senses. After all, these were the very streets that Hemmingway walked. As he walked past Les Halles, he wondered about “The City of Romance” and what creates such an ambience that the whole world talks about it. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was no doubt about it, Paris had it, and by the end of the night he would know why. Along the way, he enjoyed the sounds of party-goers in the apartments above the shops, laughing happily drunk people spilling out onto cobbled brick streets where they sipped their wine and blew cigarette smoke up into the night sky. He walked past restaurants, shops and cafes. Straight and gay candlelit conversations at sidewalk tables blended with the soothing jazz he heard on outside speakers. Lovers joined hands, lips and bodies on park benches, in horse drawn carriages and while walking, a nice contrast from England where public displays of affection are rarely seen. Beautiful women, tall and slim in their hip hugging skirts walked towards him meeting his glances, their hips swaying no less than if they were on the runways of Milan, their matching outfits with designer heels, belts, purses and perfumes. He began collecting smiles.

Noticing the Eiffel Tower off to the south west, on the other side of the wide river, he returned to the Louvre, the most visited if not largest art museum in the world, where he had spent the better part of his day until closing time. Memories of Antonio Canova’s “Psych ranimee par la baiser de l’Amour”(Psche Reviving Love) and Michelangelo’s “Dying Slave” still floating through the theatre of his mind. He continued west, along side the closed but aromatic public garden named Jardin des Tuileries, it’s delicate perfumed flowers, ivy’s and manicured shrubs inviting him back when it is open. He came to La Place de la Concorde, the largest public square in Paris, and along with dozens of tourists still milling around, he watched the cars and taxis zip around the largest traffic circle he had ever seen in his life. Awestruck, he took a picture of the rotating light on the top of the Eiffel tower in the shadow of the Egyptian obelisk. He stopped to admire the fountains and statues of long dead French kings and sat for a few minutes on the steps of the famous luxury Hotel de Crillon, formerly the headquarters of the German High Command during the occupation of WWII. Many years before that, King Louis XV, Queen Marie Antoinette, Princess Elisabeth and a dozen other members of royal families lost their heads to the guillotine here, along with over 1300 commoners, in this very spot!

From there, he strolled up the Champs Elysees, the widest retail street in the world with all its top name brand glitter and bling. Eventually he came to the Arc de Triomphe at the west end of the Champs Elysees, another one of the most famous monuments in all of Paris. 164 feet tall and 148 feet wide, this imposing four sided arch sits in the centre of La Place Charles de Gaulle, yet another gargantuan traffic circle. The Arc de Triomphe honours French war veterans and beneath its vault lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I.

Strolling back to towards the Louvre he found an open liquor store where he selected a chilled bottle of French champagne and bought it, leaving it in the paper bag. As he walked back towards the Louvre, he sipped on the gassy liquid, belching happily as he continued exploring the French capital block by block. He took his shoes and socks off and crossed the wide lawn south of the Louvre, he took note of the couples sitting on the grass having late night picnics, checkered red and white tablecloths spread out on the ground with lit candles and baskets of cheese, long French loaves, wine bottles and glasses scattered here and there. Lovers lay sprawled in intimate embraces and from dark corners in the hedges came ecstatic grunts and moans. He smiled, sipped on his champagne and walked across the street to the banks of the Seine, where an esplanade runs for miles up and down both sides. Hundreds of happy people, mostly young adults, sat in the moonlight, laughing, drinking, dancing, groping and listening to musicians who play saxophones, clarinets and drums under the streetlights. As he watched, a group of giggling teen girls ran hand in hand past him, down the esplanade. One quickly broke free and ducked under a tree, hiking her skirt up and leaning back against the trunk, giggling at him as she spread her legs and peed in the dirt.

Half drunk, he walked on until he came to the Pont del'Acheveche, one of 37 bridges which cross the Seine, and took the stairs up to street level, where vendors were selling vintage art collectibles, comic books and novels from their carts. He wandered across the bridge, its sides heavy with lover’s padlocks gleaming in the moonlight. He smiled at the thought of returning one day with a sweetheart, and locking their names to the bridge forevermore.

After another hour of walking towards the Eiffel Tower, he finally came to it, though it’s lights were turned off at 1:00 am. It lost none of its majesty sitting there in the moonlight, presiding over the sleepless city. He satisfied his sense of disappointment with the purchase of a fresh and delicious Nutella crepe on the street and walked back across the Seine over the Pont des Invalides. Realizing it was 4:30 am, he walked east on the river side of les Tuileries, past the Louvre before heading north again on the tiled sidewalks of Rue Saint-Denis hoping his hotel would be where he left it.

Senses dulled by the now empty bottle of champagne, he….

 

Amazon Fishing Adventure

Saturday October 20, 2012

Forgive me Father, for it has been at least a week since my last confession... Not too much to confess!  The monotony of getting up just after 5 am and getting home around 7 pm has all but overtaken my sense of adventure.  I do have the benefit of Saturdays off and today I was able to meet with my Aussie Amigo Chris and our Brazilian interpreter Peter and we went fishing at the confluence of the misnamed Clearwater River and the misnamed White River, both of which would be better named Muddy River No. 1 and Muddy River No. 2.  They do however flow on to join the Amazon which ends up in the Atlantic Ocean which is about a thousand kms northeast of here.
For those who don't know about the Amazon River, and in the interest of improving your education, the Amazon is the second longest (but has the most volume) river in the world.  Do know that the Amazon is between 1 and 30 miles wide (over 50 miles wide where it flows into the Atlantic and up to 120 miles wide in high water!), with an average discharge into the ocean of more than the next 7 biggest rivers combined. The volume of water flowing through the Amazon accounts for 1/5th of the fresh river water on the entire planet. It is 4200 miles long!

Anyhow, I got up early and after some much needed bicycle maintenance including air for the tires and chain lube  (I don't fill the tires up with just any air!), I went over to the other hotel where we waited for an hour and a half for Waldo to bring the pickup back. You can imagine how many people we asked, "Where's Waldo?" just because it was funny everytime we said it. Finally he returned and we headed south (I was nominated to drive, hence not so many pics) on a dirt road for about 30 kms through "slash and burn" areas, until we finally hit a river bottom which was natural for the most part.  I bought myself a bamboo fishing pole this morning and used hooks, sinkers and line that I brought with me. Unfortunately, and notwithstanding the mosquitos, our only bait was kernels of sweet corn and try as we might, we didn't get a bite.

To add to the adventure, we decided to add the prefix "Amazonian Killer..." to the name of any animal we saw.  This included Amazonian Killer Iguanas, Amazonian Killer Turtles, Amazonian Killer Parrots, Amazonian Killer Cows, Amazonian Killer Blue Winged Hornets and several herds of wild Amazonian Killer Dogs and Wild Amazonian Killer Cats!

After a bit, Peter's buddy Bruno joined us with his girlfriend. Bruno was saying he shot a leopard right near our fishing hole just this week. He also said he hunts crocodiles (actually Caiman) in these very rivers for meat.

 

Amazonian Killer Iguanas 

 

 

Amazonian Killer Turtle

 

Amazonian Killer Blue Winged Hornets

 

Amazonian Gravel Washing Operation

Amazonian Killer Cockroach (At work the other night)

 

The Romance of Chess and the Transvestite Pawn...

 

 

Dark and evil forces gather on the horizon.  The loyal white army advances turn by turn, ready to lay down and die in defense of their good King and Queen. A black bishop readies a diagonal blow on an innocent pawn while a white comrade steps forward to protect him, unintentionally exposing his majesty like an open target.   Oops but a life is spared! Cheers!  Enemy pawns step forward and aggressively take their positions.  War is imminent.  One particularly courageous White Knight jumps over the front line positioning himself to protect his beautiful Queen but is also ready to destroy evil forces with a defensive leap in any direction.  The enemy’s cavalry joins the fray.  The White Queen moves forward to protect her White Knight and then nervously back again beside her king.  A black ninja pawn slips quietly across the board, readying to kill the white lady; but he forgets about the White Knight and is crushed to death under the hooves of our hero’s mighty steed.  But there is no time for celebration for it has begun… brave soldiers fall with each alternating parry and thrust, in a blood bath that lasts for several minutes.  Over and over again, the White Knight defends his Queen with his life, and she his with hers.  Bodies pile up on the sides with every cheer, curse and gasp.  When the gory dust of war settles,  a couple scattered pawns stand trembling around the Dark King, the taste of life and death still in their mouths.  Our courageous and rather handsome Knight still rides the white horse, valiantly protecting  his beautiful Queen.  Now side by side, the two take up strategic positions against the Dark King, retreating into a corner while his last pawn, obviously a transvestite, runs for the border with dreams of becoming a Queen.  But he/she never makes it…  Calling “Check” on the black bastard, our beautiful heroin slides under the protection of the White Knight and takes aim.  Oh shit.  The evil coward narrowly escapes, sliding into his one remaining square as he tries impotently to flee across the board.  But alas, the brave and gallant White Knight slides up a square and jumps two to the right, protected by his amour.  He takes aim and with a wink to his one true love, he calls “Check Mate” slaying the dark king with a single blow.

 

Tucuma by Bicycle!

Saturday October 13, 2012

Good day!  Planning on taking full advantage of the day off, I slept in as late as I could, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in our open air restaurant and had my coffee on my front step as I sewed up a couple torn beltloops in my jeans. I got ready to go fishing with my amigo and biked over to his  hotel but he had left me a  note cancelling so I kept right on pedalling the 12 kms to Tucuma.

I always regret that I can't put scents and sounds on my blog.  You must imagine a long stretch of road, the sound of crickets chirping and bull frogs croaking. Cars and motorcycles come along every few seconds and to survive a bicycle trek here, one must take to the dirt "bike lane" on the sides of the roads or get hit, especially when oncoming traffic forces the traffic in your lane even closer to you! Given the heat, you smell the sweet sickening smell of dead animals before you see them and often, on corners and at the crest of a hill, there is a representative sample of the whole food chain flat as pancakes, as carnivores cleaning up the road kill become road kill themselves.  Today I saw what was either a large black cat, or a young black panther dead on the highway.

Fransa always greets me with a smile at the market!

Brazil Nuts. I bought a bag ($5 Reals ($2.50 can)

 

 

 

Tyical bar in this area... includes lazy dog sleeping on the verandah!

 

Yours Truly!

Myth Buster!

 Tonight's agenda included a classic science experiment that I have been thinking about ever since I got here. All my life I have been told that the water spirals one way north of the equator, and the other way south of the equator.  I improvised a plug for my bathroom sink, filled it up with water and sprinkled a few leaves of Yerba Mate in so I could see which way it spiraled when I pulled the plug. Just to ensure that I was scientifially accurate, I did the experiement three times and I am able to report that it spirals counter-clockwise. Now, if I could only remember if it goes clockwise up north. I believe it does! (Somebody help me!)