Thursday, March 04, 2004

Maceió

THE TIP

To make up for not tipping the cab driver, that night I tipped a waitress 100%.

I sat outside the restaurant called Bahia Café at about 9:30 PM and about 12 minutes later she came outside and took my order.

Half an hour later I asked for the check and she said one Real. I gave her two and said goodnight.


THE LAND ENDS HERE

I visited the easternmost tip of South America. It is in João Pessoa, just in case you get on a quiz show that's not rigged.

From that point, if you go east without fishing gear you probably have Africa on your mind.

I took a bus, walked about 200 yards on a lonely road with two sets of barriers, with a stone just in case dogs or pirates appear ... and, suddenly, there it was. There were people, there was a commemorative searchlight, if that's what it's called. Farol in Portuguese, maybe in Spanish too. Those people had taken a more conventional route by car and tourist bus.


TRICK OR TREAT

Brasilians always seem to correct me when I introduce myself:

"Patrick."

"Oh, Patricky!"

In fact, rather than being tricky, I'm just about the most naive person you can find at this age.

But the truth is that I find it charming to be called Patricky.


WALK DON'T RUN

If I look through my hotel window at 5:30 in the morning, I am bound to see health-nuts walking and running.

And if I look through the window again at 11 PM, I can see some weird guy lying on his back pedalling away as if he were trying to get to another city.

These people are quite sane, because if the sun dares them to their antics during the day. You can hear the sun actually saying: I double-dare you.

Yesterday, I saw a man tempting the sun to send a sun stroke flying down from the heavens.

PBB
Maceió, Alagoas, Brasil

I arrived here on Monday evening after a 6-hour bus rise from João Pessoa, during which I amused myself by taking photos of the fingers of the young woman sitting in front of me. She slung them both behind her head and I found the nail polish and the different configurations of her fingers interesting.

Go ahead, say it! I am weird.

We pulled into the station at 4:20 and I realized that I missed tourist information by 20 minutes. A woman in a shop gave me a map and I took a cab to the Ponto Verde area. For the 25 minutes that I spent in the cab, the driver flipped the bonnet five times to remove a little tube from the filter area and suck on it with all his might. I was annoyed.

He barely pulled into a hotel and I was more annoyed because I felt he went to that hotel because he couldn't trust his car to go any further. When they told me R$70, without hesitation I picked up my backpack and walked out.

My mom always said that when I got angry I wanted the world to know. In such situations, I use body language to show that I am insulted.

Found a pousada whose name my brain will not retain. The moment I entered room number 4, I started killing mosquitos. It cost R$35 or R$45, I forget. That night I turned on the noisy air conditioning for two reasons: to drown out the Chinese torture of the constant drip...drip...drip of the toilet and so that I could cover myself like a mummy to ward off the mosquitoes. They would have to filter my blood through the sheets.

I survived the night quite well and must say I was surprised at the quality of the breakfast served. It came with the cost of the room, as is common in Brasil.

I then went off in search of tourist information. I met and talked with Elisabeth, whose picture I wanted to take the moment I saw her face. We spoke in English. More about her later.

She directed me to another office across the street, where they helped me get a room at the Hotel Paraíso das Aguas.

I walked back to the pousada, got a cab, and went to the new hotel on Avenida Gouveia. Neither on entering, nor on departing, did the driver do as much as move a finger to help me with two backpacks and two plastic bags.

I handed him R$5 for a trip that cost R$3.80. He sat there, playing solitaire with a wad of money, hoping that I would walk away. But I didn't. I said to him in plain English:

"You didn't do shit to help me. Give me one Real."

He didn't need a translator.

Imagine sitting on his ass and expecting a 32% tip!

PBB

Monday, March 01, 2004

Maceió, Alagoas, Brasil

I arrived in Maceió about 4 o'clock today, but we still have unfinished business, of the time travel sort.

Fortaleza, Ceará, Brasil

I spent many hours on 4 and 5 February with from four to six women, but, because of the language barrier, we couldn't communicate ... that is, until the bill was presented.

Don't get me wrong. I'd do it again tomorrow, but I just have to tell the truth and the truth is that some women haven't heard that the 21st century has arrived. But I am not going to let that get between me and my friends.

Sonia always drove, with a cool confidence. She is tall and slender and has lips less pronounced than that Spanish actress who is seeing that American actor who was married to Nicole Kidman. I found her sometimes uncontrolled laughter a joy, like the time at the beach when I had her friend sit on my knee so that we three would be close for a photo. The friend's boyfriend was in California, for the past two years.

Valdira, I had met a year or so ago on a trip to northern Brasil. It was on a boat ride up some river and it had stopped for a while at some very white sands. She is a quiet, full busted woman with two children who speak English but who I never got to meet.

Carmen is a teacher and at the pre-Carnaval event that we attended the first night just couldn't stop moving to the music. Continuous motion. She might call herself overweight but most men would find her just right.

Sylvana is small-bodied and simply erupts on the dance floor. I was observing her while I danced with somebody else. Surreptitiously, of course, so as not to appear disrespectful.

I was presented with two opportunities to be gallant on Sylvana's account. It had been raining when we arrived, the second night, at a club noted for its live band. The entrance to the club was flooded and we were quite close since I held the umbrella. I have been wearing sandals so I simply lifted her with my free left hand while I walked through the water. My trousers got soaked but it was not a problem.

Another opportunity presented itself when a man, obviously tipsy since he had been playing with my beard, asked her to dance. She willingly obliged but after about 15 minutes decided to return to the table. He refused to release her hand while continuing to press his attentions. She failed to get free for a couple minutes. Finally, I got up and took her hand. I didn't need to say a word. He released her.

A few minutes later she reached over to me and shook my hand. Not a word was spoken. We understood.

PBB