The Men in Black

February 23, 2012:  Today is the day I said “Adeus Brasil!” and “Hello Guyana!”  When I was at the Brazilian border crossing I had to see the Federal Police to get that magical stamp for my passport that I am always talking about.  Entering the office, I made my way to the desk of a Tommy Lee Jones look-alike who was dressed in all black attire with his gun holstered at his hip as he was standing there with another man in the same attire.

Not even in 0.345 seconds after grabbing my passport he asks me, “Where is your immigration form?” in Portuguese.  This was almost word for word on what I was hoping not to hear, as soon as THAT form decided to go separate ways while I was down south in Salvador.  This itsee tiny piece of paper that is the size of two book marks placed side-by-side has a cost of around $100 USD and a long day of going back and forth to the nearest town to pay a fine.  I smiled and responded to his question in broken Spanish, using the proven; I don’t understand your language strategy – thus limiting their questions.  But…he responded in English, as I was later sent to the corner to sit as he decided what to do.

Time moved slowly as Tommy Lee sat at his computer terminal taping away, searching for something.  About 6 others came and gone as I patiently sat there hoping not to hear the words,”you need the form.”  After a little more squinting at the computer screen and a few more looks at my passport, he grabs the exit stamp and slams it into my passport, authorizing me to legally leave the country without me needing to make a dash out the door for the Guyana border.  There was a long stretch of road between the two and with the size of my bags…I wouldn’t have made it too far anyhow. 

Walking across the border of Guyana and into the small cowboy town of Lethem (2,500 people), I could not have arrived at a better day because today was the annual festival celebrating Guyana becoming a Republic in 1970. 

I must say that is great to be somewhere that English is there first language but I unfortunately I don't at the momment understand them very well with their strong accent - if they could only have subtitles...

Is it only illegal to club baby seals?

February 21, 2012:  I walked around Manus today during Fat Tuesday in search for food.   This was not a good time to walk alone in the empty streets looking as if most people evacuated the city.  Everyone that was mingling by the port today seemed like they had criminal intentions.  The people were a mix of escaped fugitives, future fugitives, drunks, drug users and those who are not mentally stable.
 

One man thought it was acceptable to throw a large 2x4 piece of wood at parked cars, crosswalk signals and even me while he was ranting about something as he stumbled down the middle of the empty main street.  What I should have done, would be to pick up the 2x4 when it came tumbling by me and club him like a baby seal to teach him a lesson about manors – but, this is not in my job title as a backpacker to do what this sad man’s parents should have done at birth. 

How can people think they can get away with behavior like this?  But, the real question is…how do we let people get like this?

I wanted to self punch myself right in the ear

February 19, 2012:  This year I chose to celebrate Carnival in the Amazonian metropolis of Manaus. I ended up inviting myself and joined a nice group of 10 or so backpackers plus two Brazilians for the evening.  I didn’t expect a gigantic celebration here due to being in the Amazon, but it was huge to my standards.

Our first stop took us to a stage where I was mesmerized watching one of the main samba dancers who was loaded with so much energy.  She was there to help keep the general public in step to the samba line dance, which seemed to be much more faster and 1,344,595,302 times better than the line dance to the gosh forsaken song, “Achy Breaky Heart” by Billy Ray Cyrus .  Even the tattooed gangsters were line dancing samba and they still somehow maintained a tuff look about them – it was hilarious.  I myself did not have much physical energy tonight to learn the steps in 2 minutes. 

Our next and last stop was at the parade grounds to see a gargantuan parade.  It started at 8pm and didn’t finish till about 5am.  Some of the floats were unbelievably large, complex and expensive.  I may never look at a parade in the same way ever again after this.  By the time we left, there was still many families watching the floats go by as they were putting their kids through homeless school, having them practice making a temporarily bed out of a wooden bench seat. 

While at the parade, I wanted to self punch myself right in the ear because I didn’t bring my good camera do to fear that it was going to get stolen.  I need to loosen up a bit…if not, I will continue to miss great opportunities for some decent urban photos.

Pink Dolphins, Trees and “The Quicker Picker-Upper”

 February 17, 2012:  I stood at a bus stop at 6am this morning so that I could make the 1 hour journey it was going to take to join 3 grown kids wanting to climb trees and swim with pink dolphins.  Just because I was writing it up for an internet travel site, didn’t mean I too didn’t want to do it.

I learned when living in Washington State that when you are at a bus stop, you must raise your hand in order to get the attention of the bus driver for them to stop.  This morning, this basic rule was ignored so I reverted to running in the middle of the street trying to get him to stop.  He looked right into my eyes even…and kept going.  I have never heard of bus rage but I think I got a little case of it this morning.  If I had a bazooka I might have just used it on the bus…the innocent would have just been collateral damage.

While on a bus that decided to pick me up, we passed someone freshly hit by a car.  A pool of blood was leaving his oval capsule forming a river, pooling about 3 feet away.  Someone placed a newspaper in the pool of blood so that it didn’t look as awful, as he was motionless with his eyes closed as he laid in front of a car.  Where is Bounty, “the quicker picker-upper” when you need it, I so inappropriately thought.  After seeing this, I had no concerns on being late…there are more important things in life than climbing trees or swimming with dolphins.

I was told a few days ago that feeding pink dolphins has become illegal due to it not being good for them interacting with humans.  But, I must admit that feeding these mutated looking dolphins can be so much fun!  Well, I didn’t actually feed them…someone else did and I just watched – next to him.  I was told backpacker lost her finger doing this sort of trip from the woman at my hostel.  This is why it was important for me when they got a little aggressive going for the food to have one hand in front of my personal “goods” just in case it wanted a miniature toothless sardine to snack on.

The tree climbing today was a nice different, yet more expensive way to climb a tree.  After climbing to a branch about 70 feet (just a guess) above the forest floor I stood on it and enjoyed the first time I “safely” climbed a tree.  I must say that when I was little…tree climbing was never so complicated with all of the ropes and metal pieces connected to my body. 

When I was getting organized on the branch, preparing for my decent…I noticed that the man who descended before me had some complications once on the ground.  Then it happened…to help pull him up he used my rope almost pulling me off the branch.  Fortunately I was locked in, though nothing would have happened except for me getting pulled off and causing me to hang there.  This made me think that if this company was not so completely entrenched into the safety of their customers, there could one day a need for Bounty, “the quicker picker-upper.”

Ninja of the jungle

February 14, 2012:  The obvious thing with observing wildlife is that you can only place yourself in good location and hope for the best.  You cannot be guaranteed to see anything, unless of course you visit a local zoo.  With this said, I went on a 4 day Jungle tour a few hours outside Manaus but unfortunately didn’t see much wildlife besides some pink dolphins, fascinating spiders and a new species of Toucan. 

During the hikes and boat trips exploring the area, my guide was like a ninja of the jungle as he would whirl around his machete; cutting, dicing, decapitating and maiming almost anything in his path.  Fish, trees, plants and even the spiders felt his cold steel if they crossed his path.  Staying at an eco-lodge with solar power and such, you would think that the guides would also be at least a tiny bit eco-friendly.

Though my guide seemed to know an ample amount of what the jungle provides for survival…I did one day question his knowledge about the medicinal plants of the Jungle.  When he found out that another tourist and myself was suffering from some sort of stomach ailment, he pulled out his trusty machete and scrapped some bark off one of the trees…making some drinkable concoction with it. 

Not even 1 minute after I drank it, I saw the guy who drank his a few minutes prior to me make a dash to the edge of the deck, violently vomiting.  “Oh noooo,” I thought, maybe my guide scrapped the bark off the wrong tree or maybe he gave us too much?!  He didn’t even ask me for my weight, age, shoe size, previous health conditions – nothing.  And here I just drank something he hands me without even knowing what type of tree it came from!  Seconds slowly ticked away as I was bracing myself for my body’s turn to reject this root…which thankfully never came.  My guide’s explanation about the other tourist was that he didn’t eat enough breakfast.  Today, I am very glad that I am one of those people who capitalize on all-you-can-eat breakfasts. 

When I was piranha fishing, I ended up catching the most amazing looking sardine – not realizing until I grabbed it, that sardines in the Amazon have fangs.  I would have passed it to my guide to take out the hook if I knew prior to grabbing it.
 

I was invited back to this lodge as a guest to see it again when the water level is higher.  I am hoping that I can take the owner up on this offer in a month or two and I also hope that he realizes that it might be hard to make me leave.

The Gang of Amazonia

February 9, 2012:  Again I jumped on another riverboat, with this time being for 3 days as I made it further up the Amazon River to Manaus.  I was clearly much more relaxed arriving at the dock about 1 ½ hours before departure and didn’t even buy my ticket till I got there.  Once on the boat I carefully chose my hammock neighbors who ended up being perfect companions for the duration of the trip.  One was a mother and her 2 children and the others were a couple in their 20’s.

The boat I was on was well equipped for those traveling with electronics due to all of the power outlets scattered throughout the vessel.  The cell phone seemed to have turned everyone into zombies - standing silently next to one of the many outlets, as they charged the phones so they can continue to talk to everyone but those on the boat.  Remembering my phone addiction that I had in the past, I am really glad that I no longer use one at the moment. 

Fortunately for me I didn’t have to fight those with their phones for access to one of the power outlets so that I could charge my iPod, since I didn’t need it.  I was lucky enough to be on the floor that played music for the hearing impaired from the wee hours of the morning to the wee hours of the night.  At the end of the trip I was almost certain that I lost some hearing.  I wanted to plug my ears every time I passed in front of the speaker putting out decibels as loud as a jackhammer, but I had a high school relapse being too cool to do so. 

The toilet situation was bad - much worse than Alter Do Chao and almost unbearable even before the ship left port.  A quite a few times when I entered the toilet on this trip there seemed to be terds from different people floating in the same pool.  Some were so large floating in the already brown river water; I couldn’t believe it even came out of a human hole. 

The problem is that when you enter a bathroom, is that you claim whatever is in that toilet when you leave - whether you did it or not…it is that simple.  You will be put to blame if someone see’s you go out and then enters the bathroom after you, so the only thing you can do is keep flushing as I did and hope for the best.  And, if your best doesn’t work…just lift up the seat and make it out of there fast so they think you just took a pee.  I might be use to public toilets by now, but there is no way I will add to a toilet with islands or mountains fecal matter - no way.

I had 6 kids attach themselves to me for the entire 3 day trip in which we formed the Gang of Amazonia.  From being an art and craft center to their English and Spanish teacher, it was really nice to be around them.  They were not just my Portuguese teachers or the source of a lot of my smiles, but they were also wonderful reminders of two kids who I haven’t seen for quite some time.

As I sat on the boat, I watched the cowboys of the wild, wild not so wild Amazon.  The houses on this stretch of the Amazon from Santarem to Manaus seemed to be the ranches of the waterway.  With the abundance of cattle here, there had to be a choice…trees, or cattle? – looking as if the cattle won.  This region was definitely more developed that my first days on the river, but still amazingly beautiful.

I took a direct hit to the head by a kamikaze...

February 3, 2012:  In Alter Do Chao I searched for a budget tour to Tapajos National Forest and I found someone selling a three day tour for 1/5^th the cost of other companies.  Paying this little, I expected nothing but bread, water and a ride to and from the National Forest, even though he was offering the same list of activities. 

A five hour boat ride down some river brought us to his house, which was in dire need of some cleaning.  The toilets here were completely nasty…with fecal matter that climbed up the porcelain and was strong enough to cling there for 3 entire days.  I cleaned the hammock area, but I don’t do fecal matter and I don’t do bathrooms that would cause me to evict 1 healthy sized cockroach, 4 frogs and an enormous amount of flying insects.

I think the ants in the Amazon are getting more and more ferocious the deeper I go in.  The fire ants attack from the ground and even from the trees as they leave almost cigarette sized burns on your body.  They made me doubt my love of nature last night when I laid down to go to bed, as my feet felt like they were on fire.  

Sitting at the kitchen table the other day, our guide’s wife was joining us in discussion and BAAM – she flips out her 47 year old grandma boob to feed her baby.  Being from the US I am not use to seeing someone’s wife’s exposed boob while eating.  I tried not to look, but it is when you try not to…you end up doing it.  This woman has her very own internal baby factory, whom has miraculously just popped out baby number 13 only 4, 5 or 6 months ago.  It is insane how she could have babies at that age without the assistance of medical technology.  This reinforces the need to play it safe even when my future wife is almost 50.

For one of our meals, tapioca was being served.  Picking up a piece I saw it had bite marks in it…perhaps someone didn’t care for it the other day.  As long it wasn’t the portion they spit out, I was okay with it, as I cut off that portion and ate the rest.  As I originally said, for the price I am paying, I am happy to have more than just bread.

In order to attempt to catch caiman, we had to leave our place at 3:00am taking a motorized long boat down a channel to a distant beach.  In route we were ambushed by flying fish…some fish reached at least 8 feet in height as they bounced off of us such as kamikaze pilots minus the explosion and certain death.  I could not stop laughing as I hid behind the long haired man and his girlfriend in front of me.  I laughed and laughed even after I took a direct hit to the forehead, almost knocking my headlamp off.

On the way there we caught 40 fish and on the way back we added another 50 fish plus the 1 that I tossed out to reward him for being still as I took his photo.  In total, we caught 91 fish that morning and didn’t even need to use a hook.

When I arrived I expected bread, water and a ride to and from the National Forest, but I left with so much more.  From the hikes in the forest, a boat trip to the mangroves and all the extra visits I made to the toilet from the food…this trip clearly exceeded my expectations.

Traveling up the Amazon River

January 30, 2012:  For the past 4 days I had my first trip of many more to come as I left Belem and headed up the Amazon River on a riverboat, taking myself and tons of tomatoes to my first stop, Santarem.  

I arrived over 5 hours early at the dock and I still somehow found myself next to where you don’t want to be…the bathrooms.  My mistake was that I hesitated for just a moment while there was confusion on where some people were setting up there hammock, squeezing me out.  It is numerically amazing on how many people they managed to fit in such a small area when we started and even more amazing on how many more hammocks they added after each stop to pick up cargo and more bodies.  It would have been nice for a little more room, but others had less than me so I shouldn’t complain about a set of questionably clean feet that were only 1 foot away from my face – I should be use to this by now you would think since my memorable bus trip to Jericoacoara.  As the days passed I mastered my ability to move like a monkey on all fours as I would go in between the hammocks to reach mine.

My goal on this boat trip was to think about important yet mind draining items and to study Spanish, preparing me for reentry into the Spanish speaking parts of South America.  But when traveling through what seemed to me, one greatest places in the world…I was overwhelmed with observing the way people live on Amazon River along with watching what was taking place to the right, left, above and below me, as we slowly moved upstream.

I didn’t see many animals besides 1 turtle, 2 parrots and what was inside my bag of animal crackers that I purchased before coming on the boat.  I didn’t expect much though so this was good.

One evening I was a bit startled when I heard kids screaming.  Our boat seemed to run into a wall of insects.  Beetles were falling from the sky as if they were being dropped like bombs landing on you and sticking like napalm…causing a panic amongst the children and those who suffer from beetle phobia.  The spiders that lived along the ceiling caught the mosquitoes and other smaller flying insects like commercial fisherman in there webbed nets filtering them from the wind, but the webs were not strong enough to handle the Beetle bombs

The days evaporated faster than anticipated.  Arriving at the dock in Santarem I was shocked.  The city seemed huge.  I am glad I didn’t look on Google Images at this destination, as I quickly left by taking a bus to the town named, Alter do Chao.

Oh noooooooo….it can’t be!

January 26, 2012:  When you rent a bike from the local bike shop you would think that it would be in excellent working condition.  That is a silly assumption I know…and yes, I was wrong.  The bike sounded as if someone was grinding a mouthful of pulled teeth into a microphone.  It was a horrid sound that kept me from standing up while peddling the bike as I explored Marajo Island.

During the ride there was a woman peddling her mom and even a little girl, whom I desired to pass though I was already struggling to keep up.  I blamed the bike at first but when I stopped putting the blame on other things and simply turned on the juice – I slowly and eventually crept passed her.  Looking back at them, I internally repeated a saying that I said when I was a child, “eat my dust!” as I laughing once again at my maturity.

I took the bike to a few beaches and I saw a huge group of some pink flamingo looking birds that were…scarlet ibises – oh noooooooo!  I can’t believe I just remembered its name.  It can’t be!  I am getting to know the names of the birds now – I just can’t become a birder – I can’t!  I am just too young.  Oh God, please - please - please let me not learn any more bird names!

I rode about 30km today in total - keeping it in kilometers since it is a bigger number than in miles.  Once back in the town of Soure, I decided to replenish my body with what this area is famous for, buffalo meat.  I can safely say that it doesn’t taste like chicken…it simply tasted like meat.  When I finished my meal, I could barely stand up on my legs of rubber. 

It was a nice day today…except now having to figure out how to clear my mind of bird names.

Calculating my options and the risks…

January 22, 2012:  “Readers have reported armed assaults on the night bus between Sao Luis and Belem, so consider flying as an alternative” my travel book states.  Doing some more research into it on the internet, I found blogs and travel site postings about the slew of armed robberies that take place on this road - one driver even claimed to be robbed 6 times.  It would be nice if you could rent a gun at the bus station when traveling through zones such as these.  Calculating my options including the risks and rewards of each…I took my chances last night and chose the night bus.

Between 1:00am to 4:00am in the darkness of the morning, where nothing man made existed except for the road we were on, I was awaken by the bus sharply swerving on and off the pavement.  Coming to an abrupt stop, I looked out the window but I was unable to see anything.  At first I thought that perhaps someone was lying in the road or we hit someone, but then it all “clicked” - we were being set up by bandits to get the bus to stop.  I am not sure how many brain cells where loosely floating around in the bus drivers head and why he ever stopped or ran outside the bus in an area that is so prone to armed assaults.

Happily, I can say that there was nobody with guns, machetes or spears that entered our bus - perhaps just a few mosquitoes.  Maybe I should stay off the movies for a while and limit my internet searches to strictly porn.  When we came rolling into Belem, unscathed, a smile cracked along my face as we passed the wooden huts along the road and crossed the small rivers that went under the highway…I made it to the Amazon, but even better…the Amazon River.

A gun is a gun…

January 21, 2012:  Walking back from the dock in San Luis after the 8 ½ hour trip visiting the old colonial town of Alcantra, I noticed some people peeping around the corner at something that was taking place a block away from my hotel.  It originally looked like there might have been a motorbike accident since a man with a helmet on was laying on the ground.  But it was strange since there was no motorbike around him to justify him wearing a helmet on such a hot day. 

I decided to get closer to see what was going on – thinking that someone might need some help.  This is when I saw the man wearing the helmet sit up with a gun waving in the air before whacking the man he was on top of with it.  He ended up being a police officer that enjoys running (no so smart) and fighting (very smart) with his helmet on. 

A gun is a gun no matter what size it is because you will have to see a doctor no matter how big or small the hole it makes.  But, I must say that the officer’s revolver was so small it was not even threatening – if anything it looked cute.  Is it possible for a handgun to be cute and not a Beretta?

1 second = 5 lives…I love seconds

January 20, 2012:  I have been traveling with a group of backpackers ranging from anywhere from 7 to 11 people the past 5 days – a rarity for me.  In some aspects it can really make travel a lot easier traveling in a flock of sheep, there is no need to think about anything if you don’t want to…you just follow the person in front of you. 

I really enjoyed my trip getting to Atins – a fishing village with a population of 250 people.  From the bus, to the 4x4 then transferring to a local fishing boat…it was all quite amazing.  We came here to visit Lencois Maranhenses National Park which contains about 500 square kilometers of rolling white dunes.  I cheated before coming here and did a search on Google Images of the park to help me decide if I should come here or just continue on to San Luis.  This defiantly ruined the anticipation but also creating a higher expectation, since it is not common for someone to post their worst photos of somewhere they go - unless they are legally blind, under the age of 6 or past the age of 80.  With this said, when visiting the national park, it looked nothing like the photos on the internet - sort of like certain individuals profile photos on facebook.    

Separating from the flock, I took the local 4x4 leaving at 4:00am.  By the time we left Athins, we had 10.8% of the population in the 4x4.  The vehicle was designed to fit perhaps 14 people comfortably…there was 28 people - that includes those on the roof and hood of the truck.  Fighting not just to stay on, but to take my whipping like a man as the branches would tear across the side of the truck down the narrow road when not in the open dunes.  To reduce the odds to not have any detours to the local medical facility, I placed my backpack with my computer and camera in front of me to protect my internal organs.    

When reaching the ferry, the 4x4 Toyota was like a real life Transformer, transforming from a truck into a submarine as it submerged itself in the water to make it to the ramp of the vessel.  I never knew a vehicle could go that deep in the water and continue to run - I wonder how deep I could get in my Volkswagen before needing an insurance claim. 

Once in the town of Barreirinhas I took a 3.5 hour ride in a collective taxi to San Luis – the reggae capital of Brazil.  During our ride the driver seemed to be catching brief moments of sleep.  I asked another passenger in the car who also spoke English, if they could speak to the driver to keep him awake.  Two seconds after saying that the driver leans over, grabbing his sunglasses and puts them on.  For someone who claims that he doesn’t understand English, I wondered the validity of his claim.

I don’t know if I will ever understand the need for someone to perform a pass on a blind curve.  My driver didn’t do it…it was someone else that was performing this feat of stupidity.  If it wasn’t for 1 extra second, we would have been in major accident.  Today 1 second = 5 lives.  I really like seconds - actually, today…I LOVE seconds.

There are boat capacities for reasons

January 17, 2012:  “When a boat can only fit a max of 6, why are we trying to fit 9?” I said to myself as we were piling in the bodies, about to set off into one of the small channels of the Delta outside Parnaiba.  Not knowing how unstable the boat was going to be prior to departing our main vessel, I had all 3 of my cameras with me and only one of them is waterproof.  

Our boat was so overcapacity, when anyone made a sudden or unexpected move, water would flood in from the sides.  Fortunately though, there was a man scooping water out the boat to help keep the water level in the inside from not getting as high as it was on the outside.  This really added to the excitement level on what could have been a peaceful float down the channel.  If I didn’t have so much photography equipment this would not have been a problem, but…I did.

Feet with no Borders

January 12, 2012:  After all the hours that I logged on various land shuttles that I have taken from one distant station to the other, my trip to Jerioacoara was by far the most unusual one.  At one point, I thought that I was being filmed by a Brazilian TV show, but with nobody approaching to tell me I was set up, I just figured that I was lucky to have front row entertainment.

Moments after taking my seat in the bus, I overheard the conductor having a “tough man talk” with the guy behind me, thinking that perhaps he was impaired due to something he consumed or mentally challenged.

Not even 20 minutes after departing the bus station, a foot came thru the space along the window next to my face and another foot plopped on me from above, as he chatted away on his phone.  From my gentle requests, shakes, squeezes and pushes to move his feet….nothing seemed to faze this man’s conversation on the phone - until I rotated his foot to the point it resembled the neck of an owl.

This was my first of many interactions with the man throughout the night - all dealing with his feet that seemed to have no borders.  At one point he became such a disturbance that the conductor eventually came up from the depths of the bus to the second floor to sit with him for a while before going back down to keep the driver awake.

When sleeping, I was abruptly awaken with the man now towering over me, possessed and speaking in tongues as he then tried to scale my chair coming over the top of me.  I was able to push him back into his chair as I could not stop think how unbelievable this was.  When he was done climbing my seat he obviously wasn’t done making this an unforgettable experience for me.  He now showed his great ability to pull off long draw out world record breaking farts laughing as a child after each and every wet one.  This had almost the entire bus laughing - encouraging the man in his 40’s to continue his childhood antics. 

Eventually the conductor said it was too much and came up to take the man down to the first floor of the bus to sit with him and the driver.  The harmless man looked so sad, as if he was being sent off to detention.  During this whole trip, I could not get the smile off my face on what was going on. What are the odds of me ever getting a more entertaining bus ride?

If I could just be a doctor, married to a golddigger…

January 11, 2012:  While studying Spanish on my Kindle (e-book reader), 3 boys approached me and wanted to see what it was.  I let them push some buttons and test the durability of the keys from the great force the put behind each push.  With over 5 hours till my next bus to Jericoacoara, I had an ample amount of time to try to teach them Spanish and a little bit of English while they helped me with my Portuguese.

We talked about cartoons such as Cars, superheroes and animals - things that a 4 year old and two 8 year olds would enjoy no matter what country you’re from.  One of the boys, who I was staring at earlier, was burnt so badly at some point in his life.  His mother kept a bandage on his nonfunctional hand while his face showed some scaring along with his leg that looked as if it was out of some Hollywood horror film.

If I could just be a doctor, married to a golddigger and able to create miracles, I would have loved to have given him the surgeries it would take to make his hand functional again and to minimize the residuals of a horrific burn.  Instead, I am just a mangy backpacker.  None of the jobs I have performed in my life has really helped anyone so I ask myself this…”what have I brought to this world?”  I guess this is what people think about when they approach 40 or on their death bed - I would like to think it is the first of the two.

The sounds and actions of a madman

January 9, 2012:  I am now in Pipa - amazing Pipa. I traveled to this town because I read that the dolphins swim near the coast here during low tide making it possible to swim with these grey wonders.  I was so excited when I arrived at my hostel last evening, knowing that today I was going to possibly swim with some wild dolphins.  At night, I even dreamt of not just touching a dolphin, but holding one in my arms like a baby, petting its belly as I stood in the water - what a dream that was.

After a 15 minute walk along the beach, I turned the corner after a rocky cliff to the area that they are commonly seen and I saw…nothing.  I was ready to spend as many days it was necessary to swim with the dolphins.  Seeing a fin rise and fall I dropped my gear, as I ran into the cold water hoping that the dolphin was going to swim near me.  

The dolphins sometimes would catch a wave darting forward as it would attempt to catch a fish or just ride the tube to just show off a bit I suppose.  After missing every photo when the dolphin would raise its head, I eventually just put my camera away giving up on my futile attempts for a Kodak moment. 

Being so close to the dolphins was great but I wanted them closer to me.  I remembered when swimming with dolphins in New Zealand many years ago, the company I was with told us that dolphins are curious animals and if we made these funny noises in the water you might be able to draw their attention to you.  So there I was, making these noises in the water and splashing around as the other 16 people near me stood silent, looking in my direction and probably thinking I was a madman.

Where is there a good drug dealer when you need one?

January 2, 2011:  For the 3^rd time I tried to get anti-malarial medication for when I enter the malaria infested areas in the northern part of South America and again I failed.  The doctors here in Brazil informed me I don’t need anything until I contract the virus.  Then when I read the website for the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) they recommend that I take an anti-malarial medication.  Different countries…different solutions.

It is obvious now that I am not going to get these pills through the proper channels.  Testing a few pharmacists here to see if they can be swayed on giving me just a week’s worth of pills without a prescription, it too didn’t work.

Where is there a good drug dealer when you need one? 

2012 New Year’s Resolution

January 1, 2012:  On New Year’s Eve while walking down the main street in the Barra district of Salvador, we were drawn to the magnetic pull of the large speakers and stage that some must-be-famous musician stood creating an unbelievable amount of noise pollution.  Every second that passed, the streets would become more and more congested, until the point it became impossible to go anywhere without great difficulty.  Standing there with all of the other sardines, we patiently waiting for midnight as the last minutes of the old year ticked away. 

As midnight struck, the music stopped and the controlled explosions shot up into the night.  It started slow…really slow, as if kids were shooting off some store bought fireworks from a nearby Indian Reservation in their backyard.  Once it did pick up, it eventually peaked and oddly got smaller and smaller, fizzling out with no well defined grand finale.  It was if someone was confused on what cords to pull at what times pulling the grand finale well before its time. 

Once the last series of fireworks went off, the music started back up making me feel as if we were now obligated to stay longer just because we made this big effort getting here.  The older I get the more and more I see pleasure in watching the walking corpse Dick Clark pull off another production at Time Square via the television.  

Cecile took a flight back home this morning not many hours into the New Year.  I tried to send her home with as much as I could so that my dream of having a light backpack would become a reality, but when the time came to get rid of my stuff…I could only part with a few items - not at all as much as I originally planned.

After this visit, I thought that perhaps my New Year’s resolution should be to learn how to forecast my future destinations better so that I can get more visitors.  So far I have my Mom and possibly my Dad lined up…anyone else?

“I am going to phuck you up” he tells me…

December 25, 2011:  At night while Cecile and I sat on the stairs outside a church, this man came up sitting close next to me requesting money for food.  With the size of his eyes, looking as if he was missing his eyelids, the money was probably going to feed something, just not his stomach and more like a habit.  The addicts are so creative to get a fix that I read they will sell the food you buy them, so that they can purchase more drugs.

Since asking nicely for the money didn’t work he decided to be more aggressive by doing an air punch towards my face saying, “I am going to phuck you up” making it clear that he wanted money.  I was for certain that there were police officers close and said loudy, “ahhhhh, you want the policia – policia?”  Grabbing my arm, it was obvious that he didn’t want me to go to them, perhaps permenantly banning him from the plaza where just yesterday my pocket was picked.  Breaking it free, I shuffled Cecile off as I pretended we were going to get the police.

People can at times be so predicable.  It is dogs that are unpredictable.

Unknowingly a hand slides in my pocket…

December 24, 2011:  Seeing some temporary friends after a failed attempt to go to a midnight mass, Cecile and I sat down with them for a drink at these makeshift bars in the Praca da Se in Salvador.  Not going over my two drink limit, yet I failed to realize the power of a Caipirinhas - a popular yet potent drink here in Brazil.

While sitting in the Plaza, the sharks (thieves) were circling us sardines (tourists).  It started with a kid walking up to the table and casually grabbing someone’s cigarettes and walking away…assuming that nobody was going to do anything – and, nobody did.  Next it was a dirty drug user asking for money standing around the table.  Oddly she leaned over my shoulder as she was reaching for some object on the table – remembering that I was happy at that moment that I don’t have hair in case she had a nice colony of lice living in her crusty unkempt hair.

Later that evening after getting back to the hostel, I was laying there replaying the night in my head and something accrued to me.  I normally don’t carry money in my top shirt pocket but tonight was the exception, holding it for Cecile when we went out.  Getting up and going to my shirt, I reached into my pocket and no money was in there except for perhaps the fecal residue from the woman’s fingers as she quickly slid them into my pocket.  I could do nothing but smile and say Merry Christmas because she was good.

I have not been so fortunate the past month.  It all started with my camera, then my computer and now this.  Even though events like this will add to my water cooler stories when I am working again 10+ hours days under the florescent lights, I just I hope this doesn’t become a new trend.