Bossa Nova in Boa Vista
Grazi puts on the music and asks me if I know what it is. I know the beat, girl from ipanema and then she reminds me bossa nova and she shows me the steps to dance to it. I cannot do the steps, but I dance anyway and the french guy Jerome, laughs.
I had a choice, go back to Georgetown for Phagwah or head to Boa Vista. I decided for Boa Vista much to the dismay of many who know me. I cannot explain why I like running away from Phagwah.. in 2008 Phagwah day was in the mountains behind Ocho Rios in Jamaica, and this year it will be in Boa Vista.. something to do with the bad memories around Phagwah day.. of the tensions which are there.
So I walk over the Takatu Bridge, hot sun, back pack, laptop, and in good old rubber slippers. A few people wave at me as they pass. The cars are speeding. I then realise that I have not changed money, and I get a feeling that I am being robbed by the taxi driver.. but I give it to the world, things have a way of balancing out.
The Hotel is dusty, dingy but I like it , and from the savannahs I am back in a nice small room. So far, everything is in portuguese. I brough all my portuguese notes, to brush up I think.
I call one of the couchsurfers, I am looking forward to meeting him after three years of chatting and sending people back and forth. He asks me in English whether to go now. It was great meeting Marcio in person. Amazing guy. I remember how i am to go to Santiago to meet Hernan too, but he choose to die before we could meet. It would have been the same, except it would have been after years. I hope to go to Santiago though, one day.
I called Grazi, another woman who hosts people .. on her verandah is a hammock. Grazi is on the beach.. the Rio Branco in the dry season leaves a beach. So Marcio and I go looking for Grazi on the beach.
I started calling for Grazi and a girl turns around and smiles. I go up to hug and kiss, and she says in French and Portuguese that Grazi is hiding from the sun. The girl is lying on a mat which has Shiva, Parvati and Ganesh . Another girl is sunbathing. Latin America has this love affair with things Hindu and Indian, and I try to explain that the mat is not for lying down on to sun bathe. In another bar in Medellin , they had the paintings of the deities behind the bar.. no point I go break down the bar or pick up the mat, because I know rum shops in Guyana where there are jhandhi flags flying outside.
Another French traveller is there. I end up chatting in portuguese with one of the girls.. where am I from, where do I work.. Nivel 1 and Nivel 2 at the school. She corrects me when I use Spanish. It is nice.. the dusk is coming and as the conversation turns to languages, literature.. and I feel like doing the yoga routine while talking about old English, french, language literature.. though I keep falling over because I cannot balance well on the sand. The people are kind, they do not laugh at me.. Brazil is like that, you can be as mad as you like in your own way.
As the sun sets, the mosquitoes come out, time to go. Grazi and Marcio asks us what we would like to do. I have not been asked that for a long time and I feel awkward. I usually just go do my own thing. Couchsurfing is like that. She invites us for feijoda (beans) and rice at her house. They try to show me to dance while we chop garlic, and pick the beans and blend the abacaxi and ginger for the drink. I go pick limes from her tree, they have caperinha, I drink my lime with water. i tell them that we do not pick fruits in the night.
Trying to learn the english, french, spanish and portuguese words for the different ingredients. She takes out some of the feijoda for me before putting in the sausage.
At 10pm we eat.. I am hungry and I hope that my sleep is not messed up. This is not my normal life.. talking about French politics and South Asian history at 11pm. But I did not plan this trip, and sometimes in life, we have to go outside the normal and test our boundaries and limitations.
Jerome spent two months in India and asked me if I would go. I say no, but Iran is somewhere I would like to go. We talk about that.. I know I want to go to other parts of the rupununi, and I want to go overland to kaiteur..but a bit cautious after a guy who was drunk told me I should be careful, that Old Kaie calls those who at the time feel they do not want to live. And I have to make sure that I am going to celebrate achievement rather than mourning regrets. I hope to God that when I go overland to Kaieteur it will not be with the laptop.
The next night, Jerome and I bid farewell outside the cinema .. Jerome and I mock up the french kiss thing while people look at us as though we are weird. Jerome and I agree that we would see each other in Iran.
Buffet de Sorvettes
80 , yes 80 flavours of ice cream.. it was phagwah day and well,,, i could not afford all 80, but i indulged in the ice cream and I thought my head started swinging, but that was good..
Walking from Brazil to Guyana
I walked back over the tAkatu bridge. The airconditioned bus from BV to Bom Fim was cold. I had to stand up again, gentleman like since the bus picked up standing room passengers, I could imagine that like the Guyana side, the bus drivers cannot say No and leave people behind.
There is no check at Customs and I take the short cut to Lethem.. and pass houses and then shops, three story shops, big barns.. Lethem looks like it will become one big zapataria for imitation and other crap goods from China (not the good goods from China) to be sold to Brazillians. It is amazing to see this transition. A woman I know tells me that today was not a busy day, that some days Lethem is quite busy.
So Lethem becomes a retail meeting point for China and Brazil?
I had a choice, go back to Georgetown for Phagwah or head to Boa Vista. I decided for Boa Vista much to the dismay of many who know me. I cannot explain why I like running away from Phagwah.. in 2008 Phagwah day was in the mountains behind Ocho Rios in Jamaica, and this year it will be in Boa Vista.. something to do with the bad memories around Phagwah day.. of the tensions which are there.
So I walk over the Takatu Bridge, hot sun, back pack, laptop, and in good old rubber slippers. A few people wave at me as they pass. The cars are speeding. I then realise that I have not changed money, and I get a feeling that I am being robbed by the taxi driver.. but I give it to the world, things have a way of balancing out.
The Hotel is dusty, dingy but I like it , and from the savannahs I am back in a nice small room. So far, everything is in portuguese. I brough all my portuguese notes, to brush up I think.
I call one of the couchsurfers, I am looking forward to meeting him after three years of chatting and sending people back and forth. He asks me in English whether to go now. It was great meeting Marcio in person. Amazing guy. I remember how i am to go to Santiago to meet Hernan too, but he choose to die before we could meet. It would have been the same, except it would have been after years. I hope to go to Santiago though, one day.
I called Grazi, another woman who hosts people .. on her verandah is a hammock. Grazi is on the beach.. the Rio Branco in the dry season leaves a beach. So Marcio and I go looking for Grazi on the beach.
I started calling for Grazi and a girl turns around and smiles. I go up to hug and kiss, and she says in French and Portuguese that Grazi is hiding from the sun. The girl is lying on a mat which has Shiva, Parvati and Ganesh . Another girl is sunbathing. Latin America has this love affair with things Hindu and Indian, and I try to explain that the mat is not for lying down on to sun bathe. In another bar in Medellin , they had the paintings of the deities behind the bar.. no point I go break down the bar or pick up the mat, because I know rum shops in Guyana where there are jhandhi flags flying outside.
Another French traveller is there. I end up chatting in portuguese with one of the girls.. where am I from, where do I work.. Nivel 1 and Nivel 2 at the school. She corrects me when I use Spanish. It is nice.. the dusk is coming and as the conversation turns to languages, literature.. and I feel like doing the yoga routine while talking about old English, french, language literature.. though I keep falling over because I cannot balance well on the sand. The people are kind, they do not laugh at me.. Brazil is like that, you can be as mad as you like in your own way.
As the sun sets, the mosquitoes come out, time to go. Grazi and Marcio asks us what we would like to do. I have not been asked that for a long time and I feel awkward. I usually just go do my own thing. Couchsurfing is like that. She invites us for feijoda (beans) and rice at her house. They try to show me to dance while we chop garlic, and pick the beans and blend the abacaxi and ginger for the drink. I go pick limes from her tree, they have caperinha, I drink my lime with water. i tell them that we do not pick fruits in the night.
Trying to learn the english, french, spanish and portuguese words for the different ingredients. She takes out some of the feijoda for me before putting in the sausage.
At 10pm we eat.. I am hungry and I hope that my sleep is not messed up. This is not my normal life.. talking about French politics and South Asian history at 11pm. But I did not plan this trip, and sometimes in life, we have to go outside the normal and test our boundaries and limitations.
Jerome spent two months in India and asked me if I would go. I say no, but Iran is somewhere I would like to go. We talk about that.. I know I want to go to other parts of the rupununi, and I want to go overland to kaiteur..but a bit cautious after a guy who was drunk told me I should be careful, that Old Kaie calls those who at the time feel they do not want to live. And I have to make sure that I am going to celebrate achievement rather than mourning regrets. I hope to God that when I go overland to Kaieteur it will not be with the laptop.
The next night, Jerome and I bid farewell outside the cinema .. Jerome and I mock up the french kiss thing while people look at us as though we are weird. Jerome and I agree that we would see each other in Iran.
Buffet de Sorvettes
80 , yes 80 flavours of ice cream.. it was phagwah day and well,,, i could not afford all 80, but i indulged in the ice cream and I thought my head started swinging, but that was good..
Walking from Brazil to Guyana
I walked back over the tAkatu bridge. The airconditioned bus from BV to Bom Fim was cold. I had to stand up again, gentleman like since the bus picked up standing room passengers, I could imagine that like the Guyana side, the bus drivers cannot say No and leave people behind.
There is no check at Customs and I take the short cut to Lethem.. and pass houses and then shops, three story shops, big barns.. Lethem looks like it will become one big zapataria for imitation and other crap goods from China (not the good goods from China) to be sold to Brazillians. It is amazing to see this transition. A woman I know tells me that today was not a busy day, that some days Lethem is quite busy.
So Lethem becomes a retail meeting point for China and Brazil?
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