For many readers, the Great North Road relates to the old A1 in England. Here in Brasil, many would see it as the BR101. Its very mention brings shivers to the spine. Men huddle in corners and tell dark stories of pot-holes; of roads like Swiss cheese, bandits and ten kilometre long queues of three trailer trucks stacked high with scrap cars or tyre slicing sugar cane.
“I want to drive North” I said innocently to my Brasilian friends and I was pulled to one side as if I were a child been pulled from the path of a raging bull. “Taken leave of your senses, have you?” Well no says I. Its just the airports are in turmoil and really I thought it was a good way to get to know Brasil.
I approached several people including those who had driven from Fortaleza and Natal to Sao Paulo and Rio on a monthly basis. I also looked at all the websites that came up after entering “BR101 into the search engine. Not encouraging. Not a good word to be found and horror stories abounded, enough to put off the faint-hearted. (more…)
It was 3.30am in the morning when, all of a sudden, there was an almighty crash from the BBQ area. Talk about a rude awakening!
With thoughts of recent kidnappings and break-ins not a million miles from my mind, I raced through the house to the kitchen area, where I peered through the glass door into the darkness of the BBQ area.
I was confronted by a large rat sitting next to the fridge on its haunches, looking not unlike an old armchair. (more…)
During the three weeks we were in João Pessoa, the average temperature was about 30c. We did see 35c on our thermometer one day. It took me some time (about three days) to get used to it, I’m from Minas, you know and heat like that isn’t that common. Getting used to the heat means taking it that little bit easier and drinking lots of water.
There was always a soft, gentle breeze blowing in from the sea, day and night. It just wafted across your face like a silk scarf, cool in every sense of the word.
It did rain but just enough and as John said it evaporated quickly. The rain didn’t bother some people who continued walking on the beach whilst others took shelter in the bars. There’s another darker side to this breeze though and locals call it the “marzinho”. Never buy a sea front house, I was told, because the sea breeze ruins everything in a very short time, particularly clothes and domestic appliances. I was talking to some locals at a carwash and they told me you had to wash the car ever week (don’t we all?) because of the detrimental effect of the salt. No problem because the car wash I went to was very thorough and cost R$20 including a polish. (more…)
When I first came to Brasil in the early 90s, the disposing of toilet paper in a bin rather than down the pan was very new to me and took some getting used to, particularly the origami involved. But it was to prove more of a challenge to one of my friends who accompanied me one year. I had warned her it wasn’t Butlins holiday camp, but she was very gung-ho about it so off we went.
I had, by then, got used to the favela environment, would she?
We put her up in Dona Fatima’s house, one of the church officials, simple but pleasant and clean ( that’s the house not Dona Fatima). (more…)
Thursday night was choir practice night in our church. We met at 8.00pm in the church grounds and sat in a big circle. There were about 50 people present to practice the hymns for Sunday. Even at that time of night it was hot, about 28c.
The church was surrounded by a 2.5 metre high wall topped by a fence of about the same height. You couldn’t see what was going on outside but you could certainly hear. There was a great combination of sounds. You could hear different types of music, people shouting, children playing and other churches with the loud speakers on full blast trying to get everyone to listen to their message. Then there was our little group rehearsing the hymn over and over again until the Priest was happy.
Out of this cacophony of sound, of mesmerising heat, I heard a distinct, loud crack. We all continued singing but we were looking at each other more intensely. It was if all the sound had been turned off in an instant and only the now rapid fire of gunshots remained. The shots came from the street on the other side of the wall. Only a few weeks ago, 21 people were shot dead in a church in Vidigal Geral not a million miles from where we were. Books and chairs were scattered everywhere as people ran for cover into the church. The great doors were slammed shut. There were seven people in our room but with the loudness of the praying we might as well have all been in the same room. (more…)
