Under A Palm Tree You Cannot See The Fireworks

Still unable to discard the bitter taste left by the excesses of sugar sweetened liquors, I decided, alongside Viennese Alex and a new Australian arrival - Sarah, to find refuge in the lotus womb teachings of Siddhartha Gautama at the Japanese Buddhist Temple. Marie, our German house manager, organised the meditation session on a thickly perfumed Monday evening to coincide with the full moon - a deeply significant day of the month for many eastern religions and philosophies. Ancient belief in India recalls that as the moon is the controller of the water, its weight circulates through the universe sustaining all living creatures and is the counterpart on earth to the ambrosia of heaven. It is commonly thought too that the lunar phase occurred during the enlightenment of Buddha. With this in mind it was far too arduous to purge the often wistful mind and the constant passenger of worry, though the peaceful surroundings of the temple were enough to realign the soul to some degree.

Angra Dos Reis

Later on that night, L.A. Aaron and South African Susan generously prepared a sapid chicken soup with mixed salad - its core ingredients sourced organically from their projects´ garden - of which they plant and sustain crops and vegetables for the community to sell on for a small profit. The pair then invited us to the Cine Santa Teresa to watch the late night viewing of Uma Noite em 67, a documentary of the turbulent 1967 music festival in Sao Paulo. The movie featured such Brazilian musical luminaries as Roberto Carlos, Gilberto Gil, Chico Buarque and Sergio Ricardo and focused on the mixture of euphoria and political freedom brought by the show in an era of repression and discontent in this land. However, with it being projected wholely in Portuguese and having no subtitles and with little footage of the concert itself, I was not surprised to be disturbed ten minutes in by a gentle iterant sound which was nothing more than the choir of snoring emitting from Aaron, Alex and Susan in blissful unison.

We had a little drama at our project in Batam earlier in the week. One of my kids, whom I spend time learning his violent karate and jiu jitsu moves for future defence, excitedly informed me of a terrorist attack - which I laughed off and instead continued to ask about finishing moves with flying kicks to the throat. Finishing our lunch of fried chicken, arroz and farofa, Luciano calmly mentioned to us that we ought to stay put within the shelter of the building due to an exchange of rapid gun fire taking place in the neighbourhood between the police and the drug lords. After a few hours of eagerly craning the neck out of the balcony in order to obtain a better vista of the action (there was only an eerie silence and deserted dusty streets) we were given the green light to return back to Centro, with Luciano adopting the role of guardian in case we took a wrong turn towards a bullet sprayed back alley. All very exciting indeed and exactly why I signed up for the programme in the first instance.



Local catch at Ilha Grande

More astonishing capers ensued back in a deserted Centro. After barely eating a rather disgraceful attempt at a pizza in Gloria (no tomato base and more cheese than an Abba tribute band) Alex and I walked back towards Casa Amaralinha swinging our leftovers in a plastic bag with the admirable intention of handing it to the same tramp whom I so ruthlessly fell on top in the previous episode. However, a gang of sunken faced beggars surrounded us on a darkened street corner and snatched the bag from our hands. In their dull glassy gaze they spat that they were hungry and hurried away with their stolen fromage catastrophe. Still, I have heard of more violent incidents in this Cidade de Deus.

With Shakira´s imminent departure approaching, the entire house sauntered in single file towards Gaucho restaurant, a hidden gem on the fringes of Santa Teresa, for a farewell supper. Overlooking the favelas sparkling intently with a disarming drum of twilight activity, we heard the sudden cracking of gun fire and the spectacle of fireworks as we tore into mouthfuls of delicious frango grelhado and meaty spiced sausages. Maria informed us that this ritual was simply a sky lit sonnet from the drug lords of the communidade with the open message that a new shipment of narcotics had safely arrived in their hands and that the police were once again hapless in their limp chase to prevent it. We were told that the colour of the display informed the clientele throughout the city as to the specific type of drug that had been dispatched and that the ceremony was also a machoistic symbol by the defiant gangs to show off towards the authorities, though in most likelihood they in turn would be celebrating with fattened pockets.

With the weekend at last in sight, a cluster of us (Bimo, Alex, Jen, Sarah and Monica) departed from the claustrophobic bubble of the city and headed on to the bus and ferry to the island of Ilha Grande located on the Costa Verde coast. On our first full day I decided to investigate a number of trails leading towards the discarded prison now left to debris in the tropical heat.

Must. Breathe. In.
Bimo, Alex and I sample the beaches. Note to self, flowery swim wear is most probably in at the moment.

Later on we all supped a few cocktail-shakes by the beach listening to the retiring ocean and with it being Alex´s birthday, we took him to the exclusive-as-it-sounds Kebab Lounge which to his delight and modest Austrian principles, was run by a pack of Germans.

Celebrating Alex´s birthday at Ilha Grande
(l-r) - Jen, Monica, Alex, me, Sarah and Bimo

Of course we had no lie in the following morning before check out and soon after breakfast we passed the option of resting motionless on a hammock and gesturing casually to the nearby hummingbirds and instead hiked for a number of miles in the thick burning sun towards Lopes Mendez beach on the opposite side of the island. To its eternal credit, the strip of seafront was exquisite. We were greeted by the soft coral and chalk green ocean surrounding sand finer than gold with the feel of crushed velvet snow. It was enough to make one long for it whilst already in its presence.

Making casual acquintances in Lopes Mendes, Ilha Grande


Rio Song of the Day - Maria Creuza - Obsessão/Não Me Diga Adeus/Pois E/A Flor E O Espinho

More sultry laments, this week from the versatile Brasilian artist, Maria Creuza. Her voice soars tenderly to words I am not quite sure the meaning of, the Portuguese classes don´t appear to be helping much.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnYF0_ciTsg


i-Pod Song of the Day - Ryan Adams - Come Pick Me Up
Time now for a classic song from our favourite troubled singer songwriter from Jacksonville´s debut album, Heartbreaker. A wonderful version of this was performed a few years ago on The Late Show With David Letterman with his band The Cardinals to coincide with it being the lead song for the Cameron Crowe film Elizabethtown. Humorously David Letterman makes a real mess of the introduction but reigns in his string of mistakes with good grace.

Hopefully Ryan is feeling a little less bruised now that he is married to America´s sweetheart, Mandy Moore.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRnoh86FD2A