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I think I am getting old

The hotel owner told me the night before that I could pay him in the morning, since I did not have any cash on me the night before (WOW). So, I tried my luck at the Caixa Bank, but nope, no worky. The next bank was Banco do Brasil and that one always works, so yep, worky. I went back to pay and looked at Trip Advisor again for my breakfast spot.

I was pretty sure it would be open, but nope, in typical Brazilian fashion, it was closed all week for the holidays. I went towards the only thing that was open, the cemetary, to see the grave of a deposed president. He was buried in 1976 without a state funeral, and then exhumed and moved here in the 90s.

I was still starving, quite a familiar sensation for me lately, trying to adapt to the non-24-hour style of South America. On the way back to pick up my bags and find Miguel, there was an ice cream factory, where I had quite literally the best fudgicle of my life. White chocolate on the outside and thick sweet fudge on the inside. I tried to savour it while it instantly melted all over my hands in the 35 degree (at least!) weather.

I found Miguels house no problem, and he was there to let me in. He explained that he had been out all night partying and will do that again tonight. OK, sounds awesome. All the museums were closed today, so I thought that would be a good idea to follow him there.

Most of the day we stayed cool in the air conditioning and he cooked some Argentinian food for me. He was a Spanish teacher living here for five years so he could speak Portuguese, French and Spanish pretty well. We could not communicate well at all with English, so I tried to switch to French. It was quite hilarious most of the time. If anyone listened to us talking it must have sounded really really messy. We would switch in between all four languages, while trying to explain a simple story, depending on which words the other person knew.

Miguel concocted some delicious lentil dish made with collard greens and ground beef. After some passionfruit capirinhas we took a really long nap and he showed me how to make Argentinian empanadas. We had to head down to the river to the party to meet his friends before we could devour them though.

For some reason, his friends were 18 and 19 year old hooligans, drinking beer on the front lawn of their dad~s house. They wore carnaval team shirts that featured a drunk childrens cartoon character from Mexico. Their team was one of the biggest.

The way people drink here is very strange. They pass everything around. I guess it helps the beer stay cold, but how many infectious diseases get transferred this way? I accepted enough sips to be polite and stayed sober the rest of the night. I was still a little tipsy from lunch anyway. The rest of the ^Moo Chavez^(sp?) team kept on drinking in the park at first, to collect each other, then they went into the fair grounds.]

I soon realized what the shirts were for. The teams each danced around large coolers of beer and mystery juice were right in the middle of the crowd. They shared their drinks with the rest of the people on their team. Every so often the singers would put on a certain team´s shirt and everyone on that team would cheer. Every teammate would only share drinks with other people on their team and the shirts made it easier to find each other in the crowd.

At some point, we went out to the river and all the kids smoked a bunch of weed. It was a nice break from the crazy. I stared at the stars in the clear sky, admiring the brilliance. Something I could never see in China.

On our way back in, a little blondie dressed in tie dyed leggings and white Ray Bans (at night) got questioned by the military police at the entrance. They said he looked ``shy`` and wouldn´t let him in. He came in another gate later and I found out the cops were right. He brought a bunch of cocaine back to his friends and I heard them snorting it next time we went to the river for a break.

All of these boys were off to compulsory military service in the coming weeks. They told me they were happy to go, but I wondered if the drugs were an escape before the inevitable hell they were about to endure.

I kind of wished I could take something as an escape before the inevitable hell I was about to endure...It was at least eight hours of what sounded to me like the same song, by the same band and the same three singers. I am not sure how the musicians accomplished that feat, but they did.

My legs were covered in black liquid of indeterminate substances, my arms were lubricated by the sweat of other frantic dancers. I tried to tell Miguel I wanted to stay away from the crowd, but I guess he had to follow his team.

At 2 a.m. I thought we might go home, but we could not leave until four or five. Miguel~s motorcycle was locked up in someone~s house.

So, I endured. Completely sober and extremely confused and frustrated. Why people would do this every year, I have no idea. The whole place smelled like beer and vomit.

At one point, someone threw ice into the crowd and it smashed straight into my forehead. It really hurt a lot. At another point, a very hefty couple, making out and glistening with bodily fluids once fell on top of me and I punched the man as hard as I could in the back to push him off of me.

People would just dance out of control, smashing into me repeatedly, like I did not exist with no apologies. I punched them too eventually and they backed off.

I tried to appreciate the joie de vivre of it all, but it was impossible when the stench of the air itself made me want to vomit, and children were offering me large chalices full of sugary mystery drinks. The insanity was palpable.

Later on in the night, one of the girls on the team asked if she could take a picture with me, I declined and she proceeded to take a selfie beside me, making sure to capture me in the background before I could move out of the way. That was it for me. I had had it and it was time for me to go. Miguel finally got the key to the gate which was guarding his bike. We got home at 6 a.m. I was so dirty and tired when we got home, really glad to sleep. Miguel inexplicably went out for more and I just slept until noon the next day.

Deposed president's grave

Deposed president's grave

Posted by baixing 17:00 Archived in Brazil

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