During a recent conversation about his hometown, Maceío, I casually mentioned Fernando do Mello Collor, the ex-president of Brazil, in a negative light. I presumed he was universally accepted as amoney-grabbing corrupt shit, but my opinion was immediately attacked by the Piauí boys, Rodrigo and Neto. They explained that he was, (and is, he is still a Senator of his home state of Alagoas), a good guy caught in a shit situation. Don't try talk about politics in a country where all you know of it is from one book. Rookie Mistake. Neto sooned showed there was no hard feelings by cooking up a delicious barbecue of his full moon fishing catch. Absolutely delicious stuff, and when I see Neto with a beaming smile giving the hand signal for food I know I'm in for a treat.
Those of you who were on my email list for my last visit to Brazil will remember I talked in great detail about the hand signals here. A beckoning had in front of your mouth: 'grubs up'. A bus driver giving you the bla bla bla signal: 'bus is full'. A barman with a closed fist apart from his thumb and babyfinger: 'Wanna drink?' And I do. Pipa is starting to liven up these days even moreso. A big motocross event took place the other day and riders were ramping and offroading all around Pipa willy nilly. Carnaval is coming up this weekend, and although Pipa is not famous for it's event, you can be sure that something will be going on.
The song of the moment, and most likely of Carnaval too is Michel Telo: 'ai se eu te pego', ('if I catch you', but listen to the better Portuguese version). This guy is everywhere, every channel, every ad, and was even in the Big Brother house for a night. I manage to stay away from BB Brazil, but I have found a Brazilain soap I can settle into. 'A vida da Gente' is a nice family affair, where rival teenage tennis daughters compete each week for there parents affection. They all seem to exist in a world consisting of only white Brazilan people, and even one of the kids is ginger, to ensure the show is completely removed from the real colour of Brazil. Angry, fast-talking women scream at their ashen-face husbands, and husbands find reasons to be ashen-faced. If you have an image of me settling in in the evening with a bowl of popcorn, and a kitten on my lap, I'm afraid this image is incorrect. Biscoitto was found dead the other day, and one can only presume that the hard life of garbage-sleeping and street knocks finally caught up with him. Very sad. And I don't like popcorn either, so you're very wrong.
I do however, slowly plough through my book on insecticides in the evenings. I talk to the biologists about it and shake my head forlornly, or nod my head vigorously at the right times. Then go into my room and give it another liberal dowsing of DDT, and sweep the mosquito carcasses from the floor. Lol.
At least I'm helping out with the vegetable patch and compost heap. The first shoots are springing up in the patch, and we all smile and pretend that one of the colonies of giant 2 inch ants won't eventually come and tear our dreams asunder. The compost heap is being aided by a rotting turtle, (he's only a shell of a man now!), which was obtained on my new turtle beat. A different stretch of beach to the night patrol, Madeiro and Cacambinhas, is walked in the morning to look for overnight nests. I do this 5km stretch twice a week, at 5 in the morning, on top of my 3 nights a week on the beach. The walk is absolutely beautiful. The cliffs change colour and shape along with the morning sun, and the views are spectacular. I have to walk high on the beach, on the soft sand, so as not to miss a trail, but it means I'm getting buns of steel.
A crocodile-dundee character came sniffing around the sanctuary today. Paul, who left England in 1970 at 23, has been in South America ever since. His large machete, outback hat, and gruff nature give him that chic jungle look that is so in right now. He reminds me that I need to do think about my future prospects, which I've started to look into in earnest over here. He surely has a great life story to tell, and you'll only hear it here first. Stay tuned.
G'day. And Happy Valentines day Sweetie.
Those of you who were on my email list for my last visit to Brazil will remember I talked in great detail about the hand signals here. A beckoning had in front of your mouth: 'grubs up'. A bus driver giving you the bla bla bla signal: 'bus is full'. A barman with a closed fist apart from his thumb and babyfinger: 'Wanna drink?' And I do. Pipa is starting to liven up these days even moreso. A big motocross event took place the other day and riders were ramping and offroading all around Pipa willy nilly. Carnaval is coming up this weekend, and although Pipa is not famous for it's event, you can be sure that something will be going on.
The song of the moment, and most likely of Carnaval too is Michel Telo: 'ai se eu te pego', ('if I catch you', but listen to the better Portuguese version). This guy is everywhere, every channel, every ad, and was even in the Big Brother house for a night. I manage to stay away from BB Brazil, but I have found a Brazilain soap I can settle into. 'A vida da Gente' is a nice family affair, where rival teenage tennis daughters compete each week for there parents affection. They all seem to exist in a world consisting of only white Brazilan people, and even one of the kids is ginger, to ensure the show is completely removed from the real colour of Brazil. Angry, fast-talking women scream at their ashen-face husbands, and husbands find reasons to be ashen-faced. If you have an image of me settling in in the evening with a bowl of popcorn, and a kitten on my lap, I'm afraid this image is incorrect. Biscoitto was found dead the other day, and one can only presume that the hard life of garbage-sleeping and street knocks finally caught up with him. Very sad. And I don't like popcorn either, so you're very wrong.
I do however, slowly plough through my book on insecticides in the evenings. I talk to the biologists about it and shake my head forlornly, or nod my head vigorously at the right times. Then go into my room and give it another liberal dowsing of DDT, and sweep the mosquito carcasses from the floor. Lol.
At least I'm helping out with the vegetable patch and compost heap. The first shoots are springing up in the patch, and we all smile and pretend that one of the colonies of giant 2 inch ants won't eventually come and tear our dreams asunder. The compost heap is being aided by a rotting turtle, (he's only a shell of a man now!), which was obtained on my new turtle beat. A different stretch of beach to the night patrol, Madeiro and Cacambinhas, is walked in the morning to look for overnight nests. I do this 5km stretch twice a week, at 5 in the morning, on top of my 3 nights a week on the beach. The walk is absolutely beautiful. The cliffs change colour and shape along with the morning sun, and the views are spectacular. I have to walk high on the beach, on the soft sand, so as not to miss a trail, but it means I'm getting buns of steel.
A crocodile-dundee character came sniffing around the sanctuary today. Paul, who left England in 1970 at 23, has been in South America ever since. His large machete, outback hat, and gruff nature give him that chic jungle look that is so in right now. He reminds me that I need to do think about my future prospects, which I've started to look into in earnest over here. He surely has a great life story to tell, and you'll only hear it here first. Stay tuned.
G'day. And Happy Valentines day Sweetie.
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