Recife

Last night, I crossed two bridges to get to the area called Old Recife. For weeks, I had been calling the city Re-ci-fe, but it is actually pronounced Re-ceef. Reminds me of when I visited Lisbon and kept saying Obligado (thanks) when I should have been saying Obrigado.

I was tired last night and my equilibrium was not good. Sometimes I feel as if I am on the verge of toppling over. Maybe not taking my pills for hypertension has something to do with it. Notwithstanding, I kept walking. Bought cane juice (caldo do caña), of was it caldo da caña? This was at the other side of the first bridge, the bridge to Boa Vista, where I am staying.

The man who sold me got into a very animated conversion about the region. I can read a bit of Portuguese, just enough to get a sense of what happened. But if I concentrate hard on the speaker, sometimes I can understand a bit. For about 15 minutes, he told me a lot about what was worth seeing in the region, not just in Recife. I understood about 20 percent. A very likable man and I hope to see him again.

I left him to follow a band and a group of dancers in costume, called a Bloco. After about four blocks, I came into a square where there were a few more blocos, one dancing behind, as well as on a truck. I crossed the second bridge with this group and eventually found this area that I saw on the tourist literature.

I walked freely on the street and found a restaurant called Ballentines. With the sidewalk full of people at tables, I choose to eat inside the restaurant. By the time I returned to the street, it was impassable. Chock full of musicians and revellers. Group after group. There was no way to move, unless I joined a group to be carried away as if upon a wave. During a brief lull, I worked my way against the stream and sought fairly empty streets that I could use to get back to the hotel.

I probably got back to the hotel at about 11:30 PM, went to bed, and slept badly. At the moment, 10:56 AM, I am not feeling steady at all and think it would be a good idea to go back to bed. I would love to get back on the street, this time with my camera, but I get the sense my pressure has gone sky high.

Até logo, as they say in Brasil.

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