Awaken under the forsaken grey skies of Ulster, except that we are in the depths of Brazil. Yet it brightens quickly and, stuffed with white baps and ham and cheese and American mustard and ketchup and coconut water and coffee and cake, we decide to embark on a minor adventure back towards to the town centre. A good way to test out the resilience of Sarah's fut, and to see if we can find a supermarket.
Instead we discover the town square is hiving with youngsters enjoying a Saturday afternoon's beer and flirt. We have a quick drink and watch the locals, one dog-walker, many children sporting sunglasses even though it isn't very bright, a wee woman selling empanadas from a basket, all very straightforward. Walk and walk a bit more, find some churches, get some sun on us (still slathered in SPF 50 I might add, no sign of the melanin yet) but everywhere seems shut; barely anyone about at all except that square. Eventually figure the more-reasonably priced restaurants must be at the top of the hill, so mosey that way. Still nothing. By now we are a little hungry, which for us could mean all-out-war at any second. Step into a supermarket to pick up some basic supplies, and walk back out to another monsoon. Disaster has struck as we stand at the furthest possible point in the town from our accommodation. We spent an hour washing all our clothes by hand and hung them out, hoping the glorious weather would hold out for us. Apparently not. Fingers are crossed that some kind soul has moved out clothes under the porch to the other washing line.
There's nothing for it but to accept that we are wringing wet and no amount of waiting might fix it. Stumble back down the hill, Sarah cautious so as not to tempt fate and wreck her other foot, me in flip-flops, rivulets of rainwater sloshing around me, pleasant warm waves, and we make it back to the town centre. Decide we might need to take a minor cash hit today as cheap eats don't seem to have penetrated this far into the countryside (I may point out that Diamantina is a full functioning diamond-mining town, and the idea that it might be a little poor is verging on ridiculous). Find ourselves in what we think is a buffet restaurant, but it seems we missed our opportunity and only soup is left. Order a huge plate of spaghetti bolognese, plus chips just in case, and sit back. Sure enough, it was worth the wait. Two happy and full Norn Irish folk drip back to the Pousada, 7pm, and sit back for the evening, a wee tin of beer, bananas, fudge, me attempting to get some old arcade games to work on my laptop, Sarah watching a free Sex And The City 2 on the internet. Collapse around midnight for a restless night.
Instead we discover the town square is hiving with youngsters enjoying a Saturday afternoon's beer and flirt. We have a quick drink and watch the locals, one dog-walker, many children sporting sunglasses even though it isn't very bright, a wee woman selling empanadas from a basket, all very straightforward. Walk and walk a bit more, find some churches, get some sun on us (still slathered in SPF 50 I might add, no sign of the melanin yet) but everywhere seems shut; barely anyone about at all except that square. Eventually figure the more-reasonably priced restaurants must be at the top of the hill, so mosey that way. Still nothing. By now we are a little hungry, which for us could mean all-out-war at any second. Step into a supermarket to pick up some basic supplies, and walk back out to another monsoon. Disaster has struck as we stand at the furthest possible point in the town from our accommodation. We spent an hour washing all our clothes by hand and hung them out, hoping the glorious weather would hold out for us. Apparently not. Fingers are crossed that some kind soul has moved out clothes under the porch to the other washing line.
There's nothing for it but to accept that we are wringing wet and no amount of waiting might fix it. Stumble back down the hill, Sarah cautious so as not to tempt fate and wreck her other foot, me in flip-flops, rivulets of rainwater sloshing around me, pleasant warm waves, and we make it back to the town centre. Decide we might need to take a minor cash hit today as cheap eats don't seem to have penetrated this far into the countryside (I may point out that Diamantina is a full functioning diamond-mining town, and the idea that it might be a little poor is verging on ridiculous). Find ourselves in what we think is a buffet restaurant, but it seems we missed our opportunity and only soup is left. Order a huge plate of spaghetti bolognese, plus chips just in case, and sit back. Sure enough, it was worth the wait. Two happy and full Norn Irish folk drip back to the Pousada, 7pm, and sit back for the evening, a wee tin of beer, bananas, fudge, me attempting to get some old arcade games to work on my laptop, Sarah watching a free Sex And The City 2 on the internet. Collapse around midnight for a restless night.
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