The next sign that something was different was the capoiera session I found on the beach at sunset. I hadn't seen any until now; wonder if the gringo tourists perhaps don't appreciate it sufficiently for it to happen mid week. The Brazilians certainly like it. In the middle of a big circle of people the dancers were wiry and strong. The first I saw of them was some guy's feet waving in the air, back and forth for about 10 seconds over the heads of the crowd. Then there were pairs of guys whirling and spinning, trying to match each other kick for kick, and not too careful about whether they made contact, either. They were just wearing jeans, not proper capoiera trousers, so I'm not sure if they were just locals or what. They were excellent and with that stringed instrument they play, in the dusk, with everyone clapping in rhythm, it was very atmospheric.
Anyway, moved by the general Saturday-nightness of it all, we had a bit of a large one – for us. Three caipiarhinas and a few glasses of beer and I was fairly hammered. We picked up some more revellers from the windsurf club – Marco I think it was from Basle, who told us he sold British cars. We had to scratch our heads over that one – Lotus, he meant. Big F1 fan, obviously. Sven, also from Germany. And Tom, or should I say Taam, from Baltimore, who is in his 50s with David Lynch hair and a disconcertingly keen grip on current astrological status. Apparently Mercury will be retrograde after the 25th, and things will go a little wiggy, which isn't great for my travel plans.
Obviously this isn't going to happen again – at least until next weekend. As it was I was still tucked up by 10pm, and well rested by the time my neighbouring Norwegians rolled in at 5am. Apparently they found some dance club that opens at midnight. We early bird types find it hard to credit such places exist, because it's quiet when we quit at 10pm.
Sailing update now – first day I actually enjoyed myself. Hey, it's only taken a week. Managed five runs and even tried a few carves. Have learned a few things. a) go out early when it's less frantic. Working hard to get going is better than working hard to keep the sail in my hands and board under my feet. b) only go out at low tide, before the water comes in past the windshadow and reaching the beach is a swim rather than a walk. c) Hook in and plane as soon as I can, in the white water, because if I flob out over the waves, I'm 150m downwind before I've even started. And the revelation there is that it doesn't actually end in disaster or even much air.
It wasn't such a great day for Ali, who managed to miss the beach and had to do the long downwind to the Kite Station, same as I did. Signalled for a boat, didn't get sent one. Her boyf Andy, who I think felt I made a bit of a fuss about my downwind excursion, had to watch her go and was beside himself with anxiety and fury at the centre. At least she knew someone was watching her, I said – I had no idea that I'd even been spotted.
Anyway he had a go at the centre management...who said they Must Do Better, but I reckon secretly they don't give a shit since everyone washes up on the beach eventually somewhere. I don't know how they benefit, though, because they still have to send a boat for the kit, at least, if someone goes that far, so they still burn fuel.
They also seemed a bit clueless what to do about a chap who got bitten on the foot today by some venomous fish, a fish surely familiar to them. Ice pack was the best they could offer, no first aid kit, even. And they left the poor chap alone in agony by the side of the slipway. I fear they may get a Trip Advisor roasting from some of us on their safety measures if they don't buck up their ideas.
Ah, merde, I've missed sunset again. Hope you guys are reading some of this!
Jackie
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