A sort of zen calm descends over me now when I get onto those long distance coaches that whip us across the country. You get comfortable, get our your mp3 player and e-reader, and find as comfortable position as possible, before getting started on your latest tome, or staring out the window as your brain re-engages and you start to think again, a sort of thought that can only happen when all responsibility for your awakened or slumbering state is take out of your hands, and you can properly wonder about things that, most of the time, life is simply too intense for.
Not little futtery questions like 'where do we go next?' or 'what is for dinner?', but enormous questions like 'Why does Brazil feel so homely?' and 'What exactly am I feeling at this time?'. What I concluded, with regard to the latter, is that zen calm, which I have not felt since I first came up with the idea of this trip nearly eighteen months ago. Quite simply, I feel a little satiated. Sometimes I feel like this with regard to a physical object (this laptop I am writing on right now was one such object) and there is quite simply nothing I can do but buy it, common sense of its usefulness be damned. But this trip ate me up for such a long time, and now I am actually here a little part of me, which I could not find if I tried, seems to have finally shut up and left me in peace.
The road from Sao Paulo to Foz Do Iguacu is like a 12 hour version of the trip to the Northwest City in Norn Iron. Except for the Glenshane Pass bit. Its flat, oh so flat, and dotted with trees and more flatness, in fact its almost mundane except to note that it is Brazil. You have no need or want to see this, other than to note 'This looks a lot like mid-Ulster'.
Doesn't stop us getting pulled over by the Tactical Drug Squad as we leave Sao Paulo. They were looking for Tactical Drugs apparently, and couldn't find any. A man who looked like Lovejoy showed overt interest in my Russian visa, and the fact that we were from Northern Ireland, but apart from that it was very straight forward. A long, long, straight as a die road for miles and hours, eventually interrupted by a roadside diner with a crap buffet. Much as you would expect.
Pulled into Foz at 10am, a heady heat surrounding us and making my waterproof coat more like a sweat-inducing plastic sheet than anything. A short walk and some directions later and we are in Hostel Klein, a very pleasant and friendly establishment, more like Rio's hostel than anywhere since, with lots of varying nationalities, and the international language of football spoken loud and proud. Lots of Brazilian musica populare too.
We consider a journey out and about, but weariness from travelling is fierce, and decide a day lazing might be more productive, so get some supplies from the local mercado, including some epic buns that I think will help my onset of sympathy-diabetus. There are lots of buns here.
Finally agreed that a bus from Asuncion to Montevideo is the most sensible route to take, not least because then we can settle for a week or so, and enjoy New Years in a city, rather than a backwater. After that we have a few weeks up the coast, mostly sunning ourselves and being tourists, which is exactly what we are.
Time for a sociable beer here, yet more Brahma, which is yet to become boring in this delicious, sticky, Brazil evening heat.
PS - We have a mango tree here in our garden. Today I picked a mango from the tree and ate it. I don't even need to describe it.
Not little futtery questions like 'where do we go next?' or 'what is for dinner?', but enormous questions like 'Why does Brazil feel so homely?' and 'What exactly am I feeling at this time?'. What I concluded, with regard to the latter, is that zen calm, which I have not felt since I first came up with the idea of this trip nearly eighteen months ago. Quite simply, I feel a little satiated. Sometimes I feel like this with regard to a physical object (this laptop I am writing on right now was one such object) and there is quite simply nothing I can do but buy it, common sense of its usefulness be damned. But this trip ate me up for such a long time, and now I am actually here a little part of me, which I could not find if I tried, seems to have finally shut up and left me in peace.
The road from Sao Paulo to Foz Do Iguacu is like a 12 hour version of the trip to the Northwest City in Norn Iron. Except for the Glenshane Pass bit. Its flat, oh so flat, and dotted with trees and more flatness, in fact its almost mundane except to note that it is Brazil. You have no need or want to see this, other than to note 'This looks a lot like mid-Ulster'.
Doesn't stop us getting pulled over by the Tactical Drug Squad as we leave Sao Paulo. They were looking for Tactical Drugs apparently, and couldn't find any. A man who looked like Lovejoy showed overt interest in my Russian visa, and the fact that we were from Northern Ireland, but apart from that it was very straight forward. A long, long, straight as a die road for miles and hours, eventually interrupted by a roadside diner with a crap buffet. Much as you would expect.
Pulled into Foz at 10am, a heady heat surrounding us and making my waterproof coat more like a sweat-inducing plastic sheet than anything. A short walk and some directions later and we are in Hostel Klein, a very pleasant and friendly establishment, more like Rio's hostel than anywhere since, with lots of varying nationalities, and the international language of football spoken loud and proud. Lots of Brazilian musica populare too.
We consider a journey out and about, but weariness from travelling is fierce, and decide a day lazing might be more productive, so get some supplies from the local mercado, including some epic buns that I think will help my onset of sympathy-diabetus. There are lots of buns here.
Finally agreed that a bus from Asuncion to Montevideo is the most sensible route to take, not least because then we can settle for a week or so, and enjoy New Years in a city, rather than a backwater. After that we have a few weeks up the coast, mostly sunning ourselves and being tourists, which is exactly what we are.
Time for a sociable beer here, yet more Brahma, which is yet to become boring in this delicious, sticky, Brazil evening heat.
PS - We have a mango tree here in our garden. Today I picked a mango from the tree and ate it. I don't even need to describe it.
All that way for a beer you can get in Nandos!!
ReplyDeleteI know it sees that way, but Brazil makes excellent 'holiday beer'! Plus this Brahma is made here - check the details on the side of the bottle in Nandos next time!
ReplyDeleteGreat pics kiddo.
ReplyDelete