Boo-hisssss...

We had a bit of a to-do with a couple of snakes the other week. In the absence of my I-Spy snake books, and therefore unable to identify the little blighters, I thought I would just shoo them away with a stick (innocent until proved guilty, right?). This was a mistake, I admit. Snakes obviously don’t like being shooed away with sticks (but I had unfortunately left my recorder at Primary School). After a run in with one of them whereby I managed with great difficulty to get myself cornered by the snake (my intentions were quite the contrary, you understand), I managed to flick it out of the way more by luck than judgement, and beat a hasty retreat. Naice then informed me that while I was performing this death-defying feat, the snake’s mate (which I hadn’t noticed) was trying to have a pop at me from behind.

That was the end of my snake-charming efforts, as (quite fortuitously) we had to go across the river to see Naice’s parents). It was only later that day that we had a reasonably positive ID on the little blighters, and were left in no doubt that a) the solution is that you kill them before they kill you; and b) you don’t go at them with a 2ft stick. You beat them over the head with a very looong stick. In short, they’re not very nice at all. Anyway, by the time we got back, they were quite gone - so there we are, I’ve saved another small percentage of the Amazon fauna. Happy days.

Fruit juice and rain

After a bit of a false start, I am assured the wet season is upon us. Too late for a lot of our grass, unfortunately, as the gardener got carried away with the new electric lawnmower we bought and set it so low you could shave with it. Shorn to within an inch (more like a millimetre) of its life, and with no rain for a few weeks, a lot of it has just given up the ghost (where did that expression come from I wonder?).

On the other hand some of the fruit trees (notably papaya – if I never see another papaya it will be too soon) have been tripping over themselves in the rush to produce their remaing fruit, so we’re well stocked with fruit juice.

Alo...?

We have all but spent our meagre savings now, and are casting about for some form of earnings (as well as the guesthouse). This is proving tougher than we thought. I placed an ad (in English) explicitly for "motivated advanced students" and have had at least 20 responses. On the face of it, this is good. Unfortunately they’ve been from complete set of idiots whose knowledge of English is about as advanced as my arse, so most of the conversations went something along the lines of this:

ME: "Hello?"

THEM: "Alo?"

ME: "You wanted to know about English lessons?"

THEM: "Alo?"

ME: "Queria informacaoes sobre as aulas de ingles?"

THEM: "Ah. Sim."

ME: "OK. So can we speak in Emglish?"

THEM: "Alo..?"

Never mind, we’ll think of something. Where did I put that plan 'B'…?

Lago Janauary

On 25th November Naice and I went off to explore Lago Janauary (which it is just sooo tempting to call “Lago January”, but one mustn’t must one?) Due to some communication problems (mine, I am assured), Naice thought we were going fishing, whereas I thought we were going just for the hell of it. After a minor argument in the boat, we left in, um, pensive mood. But all was well in the end, as we reached our destination (about 30km southeast, roughly where the Negro and Solimoes meet) and managed to navigate our way into the lake via a channel which my ecobatimetro told me was only 2ft deep.

Having explored a little, and then stopped at a flutuante for a cold beer, Naice phoned friends Charlie and Annick and we agreed to meet at another flutuante near our marina for lunch. The return trip was done in a little over 75 minutes in somewhat lively water, and a very pleasant lunch was had by all (although I had to eat fish as penance for the earlier misunderstanding. Ah well, better than humble pie, I guess).

The boat has thus done just under 40 hours already, and - touch wood - no problems so far. Long may it continue.

Office

Having completed the guts of the building work at the house, it fell to me to put up a website for the guesthouse. Over a dial-up line this was a tortuous process, taking some 3 weeks (and explaining some of my lack of blogging). It is now complete and I’m in the process of registering it with the search engines at the moment (if anyone knows a website who would be prepared to link to us I’d be very grateful…)

We have also converted the wee store room (it was used for raising puppies – poo-eee!) into a classroom for current and (I hope) future students. It will also serve as the administrative office for the guesthouse (sounds very grand, doesn’t it?). Flushed with the success of the surge protector we put in for the telephone (it’s lasted a month already), we splashed out on one of these new-fangled cordless phones, and today I managed to sort out the (hopelessly wrongly installed) wiring for same, and now we have two working phones. Gosh.

If it all sounds as if it’s going wonderfully well, I should point out that we have had some problems (air conditioner that wouldn’t fit in its hole, floor tiles that refused to clean up, huge holes in ceilings all over the place, a smashed window (as yet not fixed), to name but a few). But that’s all behind us now...

Fishing!

There have been several trips out in the Shamrock since my return. One was a fishing trip to the Rio Cuieiras with friend Luis, although in fact we didn’t make it all the way as the water was a bit rough and we didn’t fancy it much. Instead we stopped off at another igarape and spent 4 totally futile but very pleasant hours getting our lines tangled up, drinking Skol and making sandwiches with our bait. On the way back a thunderstorm was rolling in from the southeast, so we took shelter in another igarape and drank the last of the beer. The storm having passed, we took off into some of the most unpleasant conditions I have experienced so far. Fortunately, some nice chap in a much bigger boat went thundering past and we found that if we stuck 20 or 30 metres or so behind him, he sort of flattened out the waves quite a lot. So about twenty minutes of this later we were almost home. Marvellous.

Equipment

After a lot of consultation, deliberation, and perspiration, all the equipment for the Shamrock has been acquired and installed, to wit: 1 x 12v torch, rechargeable; 1 x torch,waterproof; 1 x first aid kit; 1 horn, electric; 1 x lifebuoy; 6 x lifejackets, 1 x net, lifejackets for the holding of; 1 x anchor, danforth type; 4 x fenders; 1 x water pump, electric; 1 x water pump, manual; 1 x GPS mount; 1 x cigarette lighter (a necessity, honest); 1 x fish finder; 1 x compass, mounted; 1 x whistle; 4 x instruction cards (how to navigate etc); 4 x flares…and lots of rope. Now the boat has to be registered with the port authorities and then I can claim to be on the water all legal, like (not that anyone gives a damn, but I thought I ought to make the effort being a gringo).

The only way is up (baby…)

Whilst it may sad to some, now that I have watched the river hit its peak and trough, I just had to graph it (Hilary will understand). So here it is (as usual, click to enlarge). However, time has moved on a bit, and in fact the current level is just over 19m, which means we still have lots of nice beaches and (alledgedly) some good fishing, but it’s a pain to get anywhere in the boat. I may not be able to provide further updates for a while as my source has dried up (take that any way you wish). I have written stern letters. Anyway, as our trip to Careiro was at 21m, there’s not much to go now before we have a lot more navegabil- um, -ousity-ness.

First things first

Okay, so I’ve been really bad at updating recently. What it boils down to is a) my wanting to include a photo or graphic with my posts and b) the practical difficulties involved in finding same and then posting them up. The net result is delays, frustration, other things happening and a creeping lethargy. So, what I’m going to do in future is try to ensure I post once a week, picture or not. It may be little, it may be pictureless, it may be boring…but I’ll try to keep doing it (after all, writer writes – hey, who said that?).

At last - news of the water levels!

Apologies to all of you who have written complaining about the lack of water-level updates. Fascinatingly, the levels have started rising already (as of 3 days ago), but I am assured by good friend Giancarlo Cavadini here that this is a false start – apparently they rise a little through to mid-November, then go down again, before the true rise begins. To put it all in context, those who were paying attention will have realised that the starting point (the highest level, on the 22nd June) was just over 28m amsl. The low-point reached 3 days ago was just short of 18m. You will also have grasped instantly that this is a flux of around 11m, and the effect is startling. I’ve added a couple of photos of the launch ramp at the marina here – normally these are completely covered by water. I’ll take photos from the same location when the water reaches its highest, for comparison. I can tell you now that taking your boat out at the moment can be a nerve-racking experience. Naice and I went out last Thursday and I had programmed-in what I thought was a safe route going upstream on the Negro, but even though we were a good 300-400m from the river bank, we were still pottering through just 5ft of water. We had to head out a good kilometre before we found the main (200ft+) channel.

It is odd looking directly across to the bank, then up through the trees to see the high-water mark, and some trees are completely covered by water for 6 – 7 months of the year. Anyway, for your edification and general delight, I can now inform you that yesterday’s precise level was 17.81m, and the low point (so far) was 17.74m (on Sunday 28th Ocotober). I was particularly nervous when we visited our local floating bar and the echo-sounder registered less than 3ft of water (although oddly enough after a couple of bottles of Skol with lunch I was somewhat more relaxed when we left).

Home again

On my (belated) return - via Caracas in the end (avoid Caracas unless you particularly like risking your health and possessions and sitting for hours in a dimly-lit, inadequately-serviced air terminal. I think they took the word “terminal” too much to heart, bless them) - I found that Naice had done a sterling job as director of works, and we now have a new electric gate, a new “chapeu de palha”, a new driveway, new furniture and a new toilet seat. Bloody marvellous. There’s still some considerable work to be done mind you, but we’ve definitely completed phase one, and are ready for our first guests – so just let us know when you’re coming, eh? Hopefully the pics here will give you a reasonable idea of what the place looks like now.

I have finally completed wiring the chapeu de palha up to the mains, and am incredibly proud of myself. It took some time, mind you. First of all I wired up all the lights in series (a bit like the old christmas tree lights), but I knew there was something wrong and I lost a lot of sleep over it for a couple of nights until it suddenly dawned on me that if one light blew none of the other ones would work (duh). So I re-did it all…and realised that actually we’d need a plug socket too. So I re-did it all again…and then Naice pointed out that it would be nice (ha ha) not to have one switch for all 5000 bulbs (OK, I exgaggerate), but to be able to switch different sets on independently. So I re-did it all again…and then thought that really what we MUST have is some accent spotlighting on the forest beyond. So I re-did it all and found that my original two-wire (live and neutral, right?) solution had spawned spaghetti of prodigious proportions. Anyway, I finally finished it all in the heat of the midday sun (mad dogs etc) today…and it all works! So, next time you want your house re-wired, just give me a call - I’m cheap (or so people keep telling me).

Naice has two English language students starting with her next week, and is suitably nervous about it (although I know she’ll be really good). This will be our first income, so it’s quite an event, really. If she could get another 20, it would secure my idle boating future! I must say that she did incredibly well, as a non-native speaker, to get the coveted Cambridge CELTA teaching qualification, and she’s going to be great – she just doesn’t know it yet. Anyway, for my part I’m placing an ad in the papers for the next 4 Sundays offering English conversation classes, so we’ll see what comes of that in due course…and of course we have guest facilities ready. I will be posting up the B&B website shortly and we’ll see what the demand is like for this.

Ozzie's constant battle with the Amazon insect population moved into a new phase when Naice got the exterminators in to deal with the tick problem. After applying whatever it is to everything inside and out, he seems to be a lot better, although he has broken out in spots on his back, presumably in relation to some of the flea-powder we were using. Anyway, he's just been clipped again, is in good form and having a ball.

Back online again

It has been a while, I know. This is principally because the Hotel Tropical has done something to its wireless internet connection so that I can’t access it any more. No doubt this isn’t aimed specifically at me, but I’m still taking it personally. We’ve had a few other comms problems since my return. First of all, we’re on our third telephone (and second laptop) as a result of lightning strikes. Not that lightning has struck the house or anything, but obviously the network (or part thereof) that we’re on, isn’t properly protected – so ANY lightning strike within, what, 10 miles? 20 miles? the whole of Brasil? sends a surge down our phone line and blows up whatever is on the end of it (telephone, computer, person etc). We now have a surge protector, although the telephone company’s advice is to unplug the phone when we’re not using it. So apparently we have to add clairvoyance to our list of “new skills we will need” in order to take any incoming calls at all. On top of this, our Brazilian mobiles were blocked from making or receiving international calls for some reason, and we have only just got this sorted out. And really, all in all, I just decided to take my ball home as far as communications was concerned. Anyway, I am now getting back to it, starting with the blog. More about what else has been happening in the next posts.

Curacao Airport

I have taken up temporary residence at Curacao airport, where my Dutch Antilles Express flight is delayed until 20:00 tonight. It is now 16:00. The airport is ok if you don't mind sitting around in plastic seats in the sweltering heat dribbling sweat into your coffee and your shoes.

I contacted Mike and Audrey again yesterday and together we sallied forth to discover hitherto unexplored Curacao. Well, the company may have been good, but the island was, by common consent, a bit disappointing. However I must exhort you all to spend extraordinary sums of money, time and effort to see the hopelessly inaptly-named Playa Grande and the piece-de-resistence, Watamola (although I'm sworn to secrecy regarding what this is, I'm afraid). We did get a nice meal in downtown Wilemstad on the way back, and a quick nightcap (for me, anyway) at Sarifundy's. For those of you thinking of visiting by yacht, please note the picture showing you the way in.

Today was pretty boring, although courtesy of the ubiquitous Discovery Channel, I have now found out how tyres are recycled, how telescopes work, what the SETI programme is doing, and why there is no such thing as free energy. Pity it was all in Spanish, and I fear I may have missed the finer points of quantum kinetics as a result. Muy bien.

I'm looking forward to getting to Caracas only because it's on the way home. To be more precise, I'm looking forward to getting to Caracas in time to get my onward Varig connection at 23:55. If all goes to plan I'll be in Manaus by 02:50 tomorrow. So you can look forward to some water-level updates pretty soon now...

Curacao III

Having got stuck here with nothing much to do, the saving grace has been meeting Michael and Audrey, who have their own yacht (the 38ft ‘Wind Shadow IV’. Boat in pic is similar Windshadow I, I think). Unlike most of the Bangor posers, however, they use it A LOT. To be more precise, they left Canada’s west coast 7 years ago, and have travelled (very roughly) via Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand, Indonesia, the Maldives, South Africa, and Brazil to get to the Carribbean. They are now sheltering here from the hurricane season before deciding whether they can be arsed completing the circumnavigation, which would mean going back to the Pacific via the Panama canal, or just heading off to the Mediterranean for a while before making their way back again towards the Indian Ocean, which is the bit they enjoyed most I think (that and New Zealand). It all rather puts our emigration in the shade, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I liked them as soon as I met them, and after a few shared beers, they seemed able to tolerate me too. The following day, they invited me on to the yacht for dinner, which was fantastic – peppered fillet steak, asparagus and mushrooms all cooked to perfection, and salad. Not only that, but I now know how a wind vane works. We said goodbye that night…

…and then the next day I had to phone them and tell them that actually I was still here. So yesterday we watched the South Africa v Argentina rugby together down at Sarifundy’s floating bar, and perhaps I will see them again today (although I’m a bit embarrassed to contact them yet again, as we have already said our final goodbyes twice). Although what they’ve told me and what I’ve seen has made me think ‘oo – I’d like one of those yacht things, too’, I think Naice and I will have to make Brazil work first! But we did agree that they would let me know where they are on October 14th 2008, and we will fly out to meet them. I did however say that if they end up in Belfast, the deal’s off – nothing against dear old Belfast, but while it might be fun to fly to the Maldives or the Med. for a week or so, I really couldn’t get quite as worked up about Norn Iron. Anyway Mike and Audrey, if you read this – thanks again for everything, and hope to see you in a year’s time!

Curacao II

It is now Monday lunchtime…and I’m still in Curacao – and will be until tomorrow evening. This is the result of TAF airlines cancelling (ceasing totally) the Curacao – Manaus flights. Naice found this out on Saturday when she contacted them to confirm the flight. So now I’m having to go Curacao – Caracas with Dutch Antilles Express (DAE) and catch a connection with Varig from Caracas to Manaus at 23:55 tomorrow night. As you might imagine, I am somewhat peeved about this, particularly as it has now cost me roughly an extra US$1400. Anyway, I’ve now booked and confirmed the flights, so all looks good for tomorrow.

Curacao

Here I am in Curacao. It’s Wednesday and the sun is shining on my wee beach-side apartment. Also the mosquitoes are out in force and driving me scatty. The flight here by KLM was excellent, possibly because it was a daytime flight (the LHR – SP run is always overnight) and at less than 10 hours is a good 1.5hrs shorter than the ones we’re used to. Getting out of the airport was a bit of a disaster, as all baggage is screened on the way out, even though you elect the “nothing to declare” channel. Doesn’t matter what nationality you are or how long you’re staying or how shifty you look – you have to have your bags screened. They’ll have to do something about this.

Anyway, Curacao, from what I can see, is typically Carribbean – why do anything if you don’t have to – and hot and sunny. It benefits from a pretty stiff (but warm) westerly sea breeze and I’m reliably informed isn’t affected by hurricanes. Good. I haven’t done anything yet (I’m feeling a bit lonely and missing Naice), except visit the local supermarket. As well as there being a lot of South American stuff in there, the service is as pathetic as it is in Brazil (although at least the checkout conveyor belts work, whereas they never do in Brazil – you have to push your stuff along yourself).

The local language (‘Papiamento’) is totally incomprehensible to any right-thinking person, but fortunately just about everyone also speaks Dutch and English - and a bit of Spanish to boot. My shopping for the week cost me US$75, which isn’t bad as this included 12 cans of Heineken, and will last me until Saturday (I hope).

The apartments – at Limestone Holiday – are basic but quite OK, and are air-conditioned, but the beach is tiny and lies at one end of a tidal lake (no sweeping vistas across the sea or anything). They are also at the East end of the island, which is residential, whereas most hotels are at the Western end, where the beaches are supposed to be much better. Never mind. It’s also quite expensive for what it is, so goodness knows how much they charge at t’other end.

I have started into the Ozzie book now, and will use this time to get at least 5 hours writing done each day between now and Saturday. I’m hoping this will get me over the critical hump where you just keep re-starting the book over and over again. I’ve also noticed that Ozzie has started his own dog blog, “The Dog’s Blogbits”, but he obviously doesn’t know I know, so let’s keep it between ourselves, shall we? Now I must go and do some more writing…

It's Sunday - it must be Scunthorpe

After being escorted to Belfast International airport in style by Victoria and Mike (I think they just wanted to make sure I got on the flight!), I was off to "the mainland" again. The flight to East Midlands was remarkable only in so far as we took off and arrived early, and I had a bank of 3 seats to myself, with extra legroom from sitting next to the emergency exit. Bliss. Dawn was there to pick me up and drive me the 80 miles back to Sunny Scunny, which I have to say is above and beyond the call of duty (although no doubt I'll never hear the end of it...). The weather (aargh - I'm talking about the weather) has been magnificent, Garry and Dawn's hospitality faultless as always, and in spite of missing those I've left behind (again), I've enjoyed my weekend very much. In fact after discovering Ice Cold Tetley's best bitter at the local pub, I did briefly consider just staying here forever, but once I sobered up I realised I'd miss Naice and Ozzie too much - so farewell Mr Tetley (well, let's just say au revoir, shall we?)

Tomorrow I will be last-minute-shopping for some socks and marmite, and buying some dollars ready for the off early on Tuesday morning.

Goodbye again

Here we go again. It feels like all I've done in the last 6 months is say goodbye. Apart from the rather sad reason for my visit, I have enjoyed my 3 weeks in sunny Bangor. As well as seeing a lot of people again - nearly all of whom it was a pleasure to catch up with - I've had the chance to get a few bits and pieces to take back with me (light bulbs, picture hooks and a kettle amongst them) and put on a bit of weight (must be the dairy products).

Unfortunately I didn't bring my camera with me on this trip, and so don't have much in the way of photos (I understand many of my readers just like looking at the pictures - shame on you), and it would be nice to post a few pics from some of the highlights of the trip (Hilary's leaving do, for example, if someone could e-mail me some?) And herewith a pic from my last night, which was great fun, spent in the company of my sister Victoria, cousin Michael "it's a disgrace" Downing, and old comrade Rabea Garari - all of whom I shall miss and expect to come out to visit us sometime. In fact I'm hoping quite a few people will come out to visit us sometime - after all, the guest house is nearing completion (pic), and it's only a hop skip and a jump to Manaus.

Anyway, thanks to all who have put up with me once again (especially Victoria and Mike). It has been good to chill out here (literally), and my Aunt seems to be as well as can be expected, so I can leave with a slightly lighter load than that with which I arrived (well, except for the kettle and the retractable clothes line). But now I must pack up and shove off to Scunthorpe, en route to sunnier climes. Poor friends Garry and Dawn will have to put up with me for a few days before I catch the early morning flight to Amsterdam, but I'll try to be on my best behaviour for them. More later.

Still raining, then...

I'm back in Ireland for a few weeks (until 4th October). I'm gratified to note that the weather is much as it was when I left, and that people still don't understand the meaning of two lanes on a dual carriageway, and still drive all the way from Belfast to Bangor in the outside lane because they're turning right down the Rathgael Road.

The journey here was, as usual, extremely tedious - made doubly so by an 8 hour wait at Sao Paulo airport. The journey time from Manaus to SP has been cut again, and is now under 4 hours, while the flight to London is nearly 11 hours. BMI charged me £158 to get me back to Belfast, which wasn't very nice of them, especially as there were spare seats around. On the way back I'm going via East Midlands so I can see friends Dawn and Garry, and then flying from Humberside to Amsterdam KLM, Amsterdam to Curacao KLM and Curacao to Manaus TAF. Although I've screwed things up a bit and have to stay in Curacao a few days, the cost of the trip is around £650, which is at least £150 less than going via Sao Paulo. And the flights are shorter - hooray!

I can't update you on the river levels in the Amazon I'm afraid (I know, I know - I'm sorry, okay?), as I can't re-find the site I was using. But you can be sure it's gone down a lot by now.

Naice is at home in Manaus, and has been saddled with coping with the builders who are in re-constructing our driveway and putting in a new gate and a chapeu de palha (pic). I feel very guilty about this, but the trip was necessary, I feel. Naice is hoping to be back in Ireland herself early next year.

I have not by any means been good at getting in touch with everyone so far. This is simply because I'm a disorganised git and I hope you will forgive me. I'm concentrating my inadequate organisational skills on my aunt for the moment, and will rectify any communications problems next week - please bear with me.

Hit Counter

Following a suggestion from my friend George Crawford, I have managed to add a hit counter to the site (see right), based on a Bravenet utility. Since this has cost me 50 bucks, I hope it will be worth it!! It was zeroed at midnight today/last night (16th September), so let's see how many visitors we have over the next few months...

Quick Trip report

The boat trip to Manaquiri went well. The only things of note (apart from the fantastic scenery, the birds and the fish), were: 1) when we nearly ran aground on a sandbank on the Solimoes. It was only that I noticed this bloke walking about in the middle of the river and figured that something wasn’t quite right, that disaster was narrowly avoided; 2) the planned entrance to Manaquiri doesn’t exist when the water level’s down 5 metres, so we had some trouble locating an alternative; and 3) on the way back, with the motor fully run in, we achieved a top speed of just short of 50kph, which is pretty good. The outward journey took us 9 hours; the return journey took 5.75. Oh, and since I fitted a sonar transponder on the back of the boat, the steering is all over the place, leaving me with a fairly sore left arm from trying to stop the boat skidding to the left – must fix this on my return from the UK. This also meant I didn’t get much time to take photos, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with these three. The last one is a backward glance at our original destination, Careiro do Castanho, as we were leaving to return to Manaus. Sorry – will do better next time.

…And speaking of the UK, as a lot of you will know I’ll be in town for a few weeks from this Wednesday (12th September) and will no doubt see you then. Whether I update the blog or not during this time will depend to a large extent on whether I have a computer and connection, whether there’s anything interesting to report, and whether I’m sober enough to type it if there is.

River levels

No, I’m not going to quote the level. I heard on the news today that river levels are not expected to fall as low as last year, and the forecast is for the lowest point in 2007 to be approximately 60cm higher than 2006. No doubt this is important to someone somewhere, but in the grand scheme of things (10 – 15 metres?), I didn’t really think it was that significant. Maybe it’s like talking about the weather in the UK or something. Anyway, I will now be paying close attention to the final low point and in the event of an inaccurate forecast will chastise the forecasters roundly (letter to the Times, or at least the A Critica, which would be the local equivalent), I think.

Blecaut!

The word ‘blecaut’ is the Brazilian portuguese version of ‘blackout’, and refers to the Brazilian electricity companies’ policy of suddenly disconnecting whole districts from the grid so that they can change a fuse or a bulb or something down at the local substation, and which is why I am writing this blog in the dark: for the past 3 or 4 days we have been subject to the dreaded blecaut 5 or 10 times a day, and (of course) always at night. It used to be worse, as I recall, and I remember some 10 or so years ago the energy crisis in Amazonas was so bad they hired a generator ship (a very weird looking thing indeed) to come all the way from the US (or Canada?) to bolster the city’s supply. Nowadays, there is no energy crisis in Manaus, except of course when Manaus Energia just turns you off when it feels like it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the power surge that sometimes accompanies reconnection wasn’t sufficient to blow up your new TV/aircon/fridge/computer etc. But it is. So can you run the risk? No. So not only do you get to wake up in the middle of the night (sweating profusely from lack of aircon), but then you have to run round unplugging everything before you’re reconnected again. And then when the power comes on, you have to run round plugging everything in again so your food doesn’t go off (unlike the power - arf), and you don’t steam in your bed. After the fifth time, this gets a little trying, to say the least, prompting me to put irate digit to battery-powered keyboard in protest. Hah! - let that be a lesson to them.

Knees Up

When I first saw my father’s white, hairless legs, it was quite a shock. ‘Is this my destiny, too?’ I wondered, at the tender age of twenty something. Was I also doomed to roam the world’s beaches with a pair of white, shiny knees? Well, I’m very pleased to report that after only a few months of wearing shorts all the time (a few short months, indeed…), I now not only have a fine pair of tanned pins (IMHO), but without the constant friction of material on leg, even my knees have a growing covering of manly hair. Hooray for shorts, I say.

At last...

It has just occurred to me why people have been missing the blog updates - it's obviously because I have been failing with my updates with respect to the water levels. Well, I can now inform you that the level currently stands at 23.66m, down just less than 5m from its peak on 23rd June (28.18m), and is descending at the rate of 17cm per day now. So there you are - you can rest easy again.

Don't worry - more updates soon!

Malaria and us

We had the malaria police around today. Where we live is a foco de malaria (malaria hotspot), and we are subject to weekly visits from the malaria police, who advise about what to do or not do during this particular season. As the water level goes down, shallow pools of water are left, which are the mozzie’s favourite breeding grounds, so the quantity of malaria – and dengue – carrying mozzies goes up. So – no leaving buckets of water around (or anything else that could hold any still water at all). And no going out between 05:30 and 07:00 or 17:00 and 18:30 (favourite time for mozzies), unless you’re fully covered up (bit of a joke in 85 degrees), and make sure that if you have any fever you inform the doc asap, telling him or her that you live in a foco de malaria.

Of course white gringos are more susceptible than most to bites, as mozzies just love soft white skin to get their teeth (or whatever) into, and I can personally testify to their tastes. Fortunately, it is only the anopheles mosquito – and then only the female – that’s a carrier, so there’s hope for us yet (although of course it’s quite impossible to tell which is anopheles and which is female without considerable scrutiny (do you put them on their backs and look up their bottoms or something…?) Perhaps the photo here - as supplied by the Institut Pasteur - is of some help - ha ha. Anyway, we are taking heed of all the advice and hopefully will escape both malaria and dengue (but of course if I get it, you’ll be the first to know…)

Exploring the Amazon – Part I

Apologies and many thanks to all who have written complaining about the lack of blog updates. I haven’t been feeling very bloggish lately, but have decided the show must go on, so I’m going to kick off again with news of my first trip in Shamrock. If you’re not much into boating, you can probably skip this and await the next blog item; but if you’re interested in coming to the Amazon and (eventually) visiting the floating bar, you might like to see what you’re up against. You can get some idea of it from the pic., I hope (click to enlarge). It’s a 200km jaunt from the Marina Rio Bello (at top) to the proposed location of the flutuante (Careiro do Castanho -LCROM, at bottom), via the Rio Negro and the Rio Solimoes (or Amazon, if you prefer, although technically it’s not called the Amazon until the former two rivers join, at the “encontro das aguas” , seen upper right, with the two rivers running side-by-side for some distance).

I’m taking Flavio, a friend of ours, along for the journey, and hopefully we can do it in around 6 - 7 hours, depending on conditions. The problem is the low level of the water, and the trickiest part will be the stretch from the jungle town of Manaquiri (MQ in the pic.) and LC46 (sorry - it’s just a waypoint name). In particular the little igarape, or stream, connecting Lago Manaquiri (stretch between MQ and Ig LC N) and and Lago do Castanho (LC46 to LCROM) may be un-navigable, or possibly only navigable with local knowledge, whereas we’re relying on a Garmin GPS60, a Google Earth screendump (pretty much as per pic, but with more waypoints) and a lot of luck. But it may just not be possible, in which case we’ll turn tail and run back, at least as far as Manaquiri, to reconsider.

The motor is now 50% run-in, allowing a top speed of around 38kph in ideal conditions, but if we encounter one of the frequent thunderstorms en route we’ll have to run for cover and tie up somewhere to wait it out (the wind and rain can whip the Negro and Solimoes into the equivalent of a fairly energetic sea, given that the breadth of the rivers can be just over 6 miles – much too much for Shamrock and el Capitan). And the speed at which this can happen is pretty impressive. Even our friend Charlie with his pocket battleship Sammy III doesn’t venture onto either of these rivers in a thunderstorm, and another friend of ours, John Harwood, has already lost a boat in these conditions, doing a run between Manaus and Cacau Pireira on the south bank. They clung to barrels of petrol for a couple of hours before being rescued, which left John with some serious petrol burns on his chest and arms.

So there we are. We’re all set to leave at 06:00 on Thursday 6th September, with a newly serviced engine and 100 litres of fuel. If we make it there, we’ve arranged to secure the boat at a government flutuante near Careiro do Castanho, and sleep over at the local hostel, returning on Friday (all organised by Naice’s brother Romulo, for which many thanks). I’ll post events and pics on the blog in due course.

Sad news

I found out yesterday evening (21st) that my uncle, Tom Davison, passed away on Monday night, two days before his 90th birthday. This is very sad (if not unexpected) news, and we shall miss him greatly. As little as 18 months ago I was playing rhythm guitar to his violin, and helping him master his computer (which he did, spending some considerable time converting himself from paper-based to digital photography - and conversing with friends and relatives around the world). He was interested in everything and everybody, and remained as sharp as a pin to the end. If I live to the age of 89, I hope I shall be as proactive, energetic, inquisitive, eloquent, indomitable – and bloody-minded - as my Uncle Tom proved to be. Over the last few months before we left for Brazil, we had some pretty profound and frank conversations, and although we didn’t see eye-to-eye on everything, I certainly felt an empathy with his constant search for meaning in life, the universe and everything, and I hope he may have found some answers in the last weeks.

My uncle leaves his wife, my Auntie Margaret, and our hearts go out to her. I’m disappointed not to be able to be at the funeral, which I learned is to be tomorrow (Thursday 23rd), but I am expecting to be in Ireland by 12th September and to see her then.

Nothing is forever.

Water level

Water down to 25.57m (22nd August), in spite of a run of inclement weather which has kept temperatures down to a cool 84 degrees (76 degrees in the evening at one point – enough to make you think of pulling on a long-sleeved shirt).

Captain’s log, 21.08.07

6.45 hours logged in the new boat now, the longest single-handed voyage being yesterday (21st), when el Capitan took Shamrock 11km up the Taruma, back to the marina and then south to the mouth of the Taruma. All was sweetness and light until approaching the Negro, when the combination of a stiff southerly breeze and the currents from the confluence of the two rivers chopped the water up and made things a bit uncomfortable. Exercising my discretion, I chose to turn round and run away. Total trip time, per my wonderful Garmin GPS60, was 1hr 53mins (moving time 1hr 48 mins). Only another 3.55 hours to do until I can push the motor to 4500 rpm, which should improve my top speed so far of 20kph. I can’t wait.
All this is small potatoes to my cousin Anton Maguire, who I am proud to say is currently contemplating a round the world yacht race. But then of course he is obviously quite mad (and considerably more skilled, knowledgeable and experienced…).

Life in Manaus

With most of our traumas now over, it ocurred to me recently that this is really the end of chapter one for us and our new life - we have come, we have seen and we are bonkers. Seriously, we have achieved most of our original aims (i.e. we’re here and reasonably well organised), apart from the flutuante. Now, after the climax of it all (as it were), we need to stir ourselves and think what we’re going to do with our new life. The money won’t last that long (not the way we’re spending it, anyway), and we really need to find some form of income at some point. We are still spending a lot of money on the house (electrician to do the wiring, buying a new gate and other security items, building a few walls here and there, buying a dining table, chairs and a sofa, and so on). We have completely overshot our original budget for the house, but on the other hand we could not have found anywhere better, and are very happy here.

But like I said, what now…? So far, there’s the Wisdom of Oz, which I’m still working on (and may still be working on in 10 years time), and we’re considering putting our faces around the English language teaching/ translating community in earnest in due course. We looked at setting up an export company, but there’s not much point unless you have something to export, and so far we don’t (although I’m going to the annual trade fair tomorrow to see what’s on offer); and of course there’s the B&B option (but this is unlikely to bring in enough money to even keep the house going). And the floating bar will almost certainly have to wait now, possibly until early 2009. Hmmm.

And then of course there’s the question of adoption, which was one of the prime motives for the move in the first place. Unfortunately this too requires some sort of income, before we even register our interest (one of the first questions is ‘how will you support the child?’, and no doubt ‘We don’t know, but we have a lovely house.’ just isn’t going to cut it).

So. Chapter 2 begins. How it will end, we don’t know. But as usual you can read all about it here (if you’re the masochistic sort).

Taking the Tick...

Has anyone any tips on removing ticks from dogs? I mean tips that actually work? Although Ozzie’s regularly plagued by the little blighters, they’re mostly of some small Brazilian variety which fall off of their own volition (well, helped by the tick lotion we apply monthly). However last weekend, after a visit to Naice’s parents, he picked up a tick which I suspect is just like your common or garden UK sheep tick. And it wasn’t in any hurry to fall off, so we spent 2 days trying to remember what I’d read about removing them. I tried the ‘smother it in Vaseline, and when it comes up for air just snatch it off’ trick, and when the only result was that Ozzie’s left hind leg became lovely and slippery, we resorted to the ‘touch a hot match to it, and when it recoils…etc etc’. All that happened was that we were left with a large pile of matches which were quite dead, unlike the tick.

Today Naice got frustrated with the thing and just whipped it off with a pair of tweezers, but now we’re not sure if we left the head in the wound or not. . So, any budding vets out there who have a FOOLPROOF methodology, perhaps you could let us know?

Das Boot

Shamrock was finally launched (pics) and I motored it around from the Suzuki works to our chosen marina (incidentally, ‘marina’ here means somewhere where they take your boat out of the water with a boat lift and use a fork lift truck to store it on a platform in a multi-storey garage –pics later). It being my first time in charge of my own boat, and having little petrol and no emergency oar (tsk), I was a little nervous about the whole affair. Anyway it went off without a hitch and the boat performed admirably (as, I felt, did the Captain (yo no soy marinero – soy capitan)). Unlike on the following Tuesday, when el capitan took out his first passenger (Naice, of course), for a pootle about on the Rio Taruma (the Taruma Acu, as opposed to the Taruma Mirim, for those interested).

I decided to take 20 litres of petrol along in my spare tank, along with a coffee strainer and a coke-bottle funnel (see earlier post), and all was well until I tried to get the petrol into my main tank. The result was that much of it ended up in the boat and all over me…so we had to abandon this idea and motor over to one of the floating petrol stations (pic) to put R$20 in the tank from the pump. We asked the guy if he would strain it through the coffee filter and he was happy enough to do so. Having thus rescued the situation, we cast off and…couldn’t start the motor. As we floated gently backwards into the petrol station flutuante, I suggested to the attendant that his petrol must be really bad, although I’m not sure he thought this was funny.

Anyway, we floated off again, slowly into midstream and vaguely back towards the marina in the far distance, turning the motor over as much as we dared. After a few minutes of this, I decided an alternative strategy was required, so I sat at the back wrestling with the cover of the motor and trying not to fall in. I succeeded in getting the cover off and checked what I could (I’m not going to take the plugs out or anything, now, am I?). A visual inspection indicated that all seemed OK, so I replaced the cover and re-primed the fuel…and it started first time. Go figure. Hope it doesn’t happen again.

I have to run the motor in for 20 hours before I can give it a good thrashing, and at the moment I can’t even get it to plane at the revs I’m allowed to give it (3,000 rpm). It’s now done two slow hours and counting…

The container arrives

The container was all of a sudden released and our friendly agent arranged for someone to pick the stuff up and deliver it to the house. It duly arrived last Thursday (9th), since when we have been unpacking and trying to organise things in the house as best we can. It’s lovely to have the stuff with us again, even if 50% of it is of no practical use whatever. Never mind.

Given the contours of the garden and the size of the driveway gate, it wasn’t possible to get the truck anywhere near the house, so the 145 boxes had to be lifted out, dumped in the driveway and then carried down to the house. Joy unbounded. And no sooner had we got them all down to the house than the familiar sound of distant thunder started up, so we had to move them all again to get them under cover. Happily, we achieved this with barely seconds to spare. We may look happy in the photo, but I must admit the tempers were somewhat frayed by the time we’d finished (in spite of the impending rain, much of the humping of boxes was done in 90 degree-plus sunshine).

Anyway it’s all done now, and 70% of the stuff has been laid out or put away as required. In fact you can see from the photo that the inside of the house has taken a turn for the better (although there is still much to do). At present we’re looking around for a dining table and chairs, a sofa, and somewhere to put the TV.

Call for a Botanist, please

Naice spotted this thing on one of the palms today (pic - click on image to enlarge). I have absolutely no idea what it is, and neither have any of the locals I’ve spoken to. It was about two - three inches long. Anyone…?

Wildlife update

We were surprised to see a pair of altogether different toucan-type birds the other day – much smaller and distinguished by a really bright yellow chest. Don’t know what they are, but I’ll identify them yet. We also spotted a large eagle drying its wings on the dead tree just beyond our boundary yesterday. Now that we have our binoculars, this bird-watching lark seems to be a piece of cake. The little monkeys are back, making regular forays into the garden on the hunt for our bananas and papayas. Not to be outdone, Naice has taken to trying to remove the ripening papayas first. Given that this has to be done with a 3m long bamboo pole with me underneath trying to catch anything that falls, it’s not so simple. Score so far: monkeys 4 Naice 1.

Water level

Water level now at 26.50m (13th August), down 35cm since last wednesday...

Quickie

A quick post this one, as the internet connections have been extremely poor recently. Firstly, our stuff has been released by the nice people at the docks, and has been received at the house (salt of the earth those people - always said so...). Secondly, the boat has been launched and is now at the marina. Thirdly, we have a permanent telephone line - anyone who wants this, and/or our address, please e-mail me and I'll be v.happy to supply.

More on all the above, with photos etc., when I get any sort of decent connection...

Latest on things

The rain here has dried up completely, and it’s getting depressingly hot. The average temperature is something like 35, but that’s in the shade of course – more than two or three minutes in the sun and you feel like you’ve just run the Mull of Kintyre half marathon in an Aran sweater and woolly tights. It’s so hot we can’t even use the pool during the day (don’t worry, it’s still very pleasant at dawn and dusk).

The river levels continue to go down, and this is now quite noticeable around the harbour areas of the city. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to get my new boat in the river at all, never mind thinking about the flutuante. For the annoraks amongst me, the level is down to 26.89m, receding now at the rate of 6 - 7 cm per day.

We’ve had the painters and decorators in and they’ve made a thoroughly good job of the bedroom and are now working on the rest of the house. We also currently have someone in installing aircon in the bedroom (which they should finish tomorrow, thankfully). The electrician’s coming tomorrow too, to try to make some sense of the previous owner’s DIY circuits and make things safe and sound for us, and the telephone company is threatening to install our phone sometime soon (still).

We had our first trip out on the river at the weekend, in our friends’ boat the Sammy III, which is a huge, diesel-powered (18m?) monster that I find far too intimidating – it looks like it should be spear-heading the invasion of Cuba or something. Anyway, it was wonderful to be out on the Rio Negro (actually the Rio Taruma), and we had a fish lunch at the

Flutuante Peixe Boi (which I think the translation of is ‘manatee’, although the literal translation is Fish-cow, which is much less elegant don’t you think?). When I was asked by one of the smug staff whether we were all English, I was pleased to say that I was Irish, my wife was Brazilian, my friend Italian and his wife Belgian. I think he was suitably dumbstruck by this veritable galaxy of bi- and multi-lingual foreigners. Jolly good thing too, if you ask me. Last night we managed to add a French and a German woman to the happy throng, in a local restaurant. It all sounds great, although frankly with my Portuguese being the worst amongst all of them, I feel pretty dumbstruck myself most of the time. Never mind.

On the positive side

I was reminded yesterday that I have occasionally been less than complimentary about my adopted country. This is true, although I reserve my right to be critical, whether in relation to Brazil, the UK, or anywhere else for that matter (blah blah blah…). Anyway, in an effort to balance the scales somewhat (and perhaps justify the decision to come to Brazil – or more specifically, Amazonas), let me say something more positive in my next few posts.

Firstly, there’s no such thing as “can’t do”, here. The concept just doesn’t exist. There is always a jeitinho, or “little way” to get round any problem, however large or small. There is a background hum of effortless inventiveness, attenuated by a calm acceptance of what is, which we in the UK may long since have lost. Take for example the paint kettle. They don’t do paint kettles here. A source of some frustration to a gringo like myself (well OK, only when I’m painting, but still...). What do I use instead? In the UK I might have nosed about and found a plant pot or something (except they usually have those pesky holes in the bottom), or (more likely) dug out that old Diana and Charles commemorative mug that Auntie Flossie gave us, with a promise to clean it out afterwards. But I never would have thought of the solution taken for granted by all the painters in Manaus – an empty Coke bottle. Take your bottle and cut it in half, pierce two holes on opposite sides of the newly created rim of the bottom half, find some old electric cable to use as a hanger, and away you go. And the neat thing about it is, as I discovered today down at the authorised Suzuki dealer, you can use the other half as a funnel – with the added advantage that it won’t drip after you’ve used it to top up your oil…because you just put the cap back on.

At the other end of the scale, let me tell you the story of Naice’s father trying to get retrospective planning permission for his newly-built petrol station, following a visit from the local planning authority. “Sorry, you’ll have to rebuild the whole thing – there’s insufficient frontage” (between road and buildings). Can I interest you in a few beers? “No”. Might I perhaps defray some of your expenses? “No”. OK, well I’m not going to rebuild it. “You’d better”. Will not, too. Etc etc. Enough to induce an arterial flutter in the best of us, no doubt. The solution? Carry on regardless, and meantime make some enquiries with the locals, discovering that half the government buildings along the same road fall foul of this particular planning requirement. On the next visit, tell the official Ok, tell you what, start at that end of the road and work towards me, and when I see that everyone’s complying, I certainly will, too. “OK, here’s your certificate.” This is a condensed version of an episode which took place over 18 months, with all sorts of threats of closure and sanctions and fines and what-not. Was Mr da Silva worried? No. Not in the slightest? No. He just carried on doing what he was doing, in the certain knowledge that the problem would be resolved in some way - and in the meantime, well why worry?

I’m sure there are a hundred and one other examples of this jeitinho, with the rather profound result that just about everyone you meet, and no matter their circumstances, is pretty happy with and optimistic about life. If anyone has read The Power of Now, you’ll understand me when I say that in general terms, the people of Amazonas are a pretty enlightened lot.

I’m trying to be enlightened myself, but these things don’t just happen overnight, you know? Today I watched the highly trained technician fitting the steering wheel to my brand new boat. He didn’t have the right drill bit for the fixings, so he used the smaller one as a rasp to make all the holes bigger (and much less round), while I sat there trying desperately to be enlightened, with my jaws clamped tightly around my index finger. (Hey, I’m working on it, okay…?)

Black Cars

They’re all the rage in Manaus. You have to have a black car, otherwise you may as well lie down in the middle of the road and get run over by one. Outside the illustrious establishment wherein I write, is a long line of shiny new black cars abandoned carefully in the driveway by their rich owners (of course we know they’re rich, because they have black cars). Size matters too, of course – the preference is a large 4x4 – and the make should be something you can’t buy without importing it especially; but when it boils down to it, as long as it’s black you’re OK.

And speaking of boiling it down, this is, of course, exactly what a black car will try to do to its occupants in 40 degrees of sunshine. In fact the obvious colour to go for is white, to reflect all that nasty heat and light. The problem is that this is the colour of the dreaded taxi. All taxis are white. It’s a tradition dating back to when Brazil got its first batch of Volkswagen Beetles (the Fusca). And no-one wants people to think they’re a taxi driver, now, do they?

I don’t suppose any of these rich and beautiful people have ever stopped to consider the reason taxi drivers have cornered the market in white, or ever thought it might be BECAUSE IT’S THE RIGHT COLOUR FOR THE CLIMATE. No. And why would they change even if they had the wit to consider this? Because they have the money to fuel their gas-guzzling, air-conditioned black tanks. And if their cars are black, everyone knows this. In fact everyone knows that they are so stinking rich they have no need to concern themselves with money. And so it is with the rest of Brazilian society, where madness is a sure sign of money. Why design something that’s efficient, effective and economical when it just doesn’t matter? Build your house with a flat roof, paint it black, put plate glass windows in it and let it face the afternoon sun – because it doesn’t matter: just turn up the aircon and to Hell with it. And why demand efficiency from others when you can happily pay for their inefficiency? See - it just doesn’t matter!

Meanwhile, the disenfranchised majority, who would probably be quite grateful for something in Brazil that was efficient, effective and economical, can go whistle. They don’t have enough money between them to influence the market, so the market carries on building, manufacturing, importing and distributing (hopelessly inefficiently) any old tat, because the rich don’t care about it.
Of course I have to admit we have plate glass windows and a black car. And I have to admit that we’re paying through the nose to get our container out of the port in the usual inefficient, and ineffective way (7 weeks and counting now). But that’s Brazil, innit though but…?

Things are looking up

We now have Sky TV. Whoopie! Now I can listen to the BBC world service and watch “BBC World” (which is the same old news repeated endlessly every half hour, and is usually about some politically correct region of the world (India & Pakistan, now) I have absolutely no interest in whatever - still, you can’t have everything, can you?).

We are also in the middle of having the house re-decorated, so we will be ready whenever the local Port hoods let us have what’s left of the contents of our container. This has now been fumigado (fumigated) at our expense (see earlier post), and now needs to be formigado or ‘anted’ – i.e. the hoods need to go over every inch of everything in it with a fine toothcomb.

Other news includes the unexpected inclement weather. I know some of you guys over in the UK are fully familiar with this phenomenon (ha ha), but in the dry season in Amazonas, it’s something of a rarity. So our recent days have been mercifully cool (sub 30), and evenings feel quite cool (like tonight, with condensation, even, on the car!). Long may it continue, although it has exposed a few areas in the house that are letting in water.

Speaking of water, it is apparent that our torrential rain here is only a minor part of the picture, as river levels still seem to be going down at a steady 2 - 3cm per day. We’re now down to 27.39m (sorry I misquoted before – the high water mark was 28.18m, not 8.18m as originally reported). This still bodes ill for the flutuante, although we’re now thinking of buying a small plot of land by the river this year, where we can moor the flutuante next year. We’ll see.

I have good days and bad days with my Portuguese. Sometimes I can communicate, other times it’s like:

ME “Uma cerveja, por favor.”
THEM “O que?”
ME “Uma cerveja, por favor.”
THEM “Desculpe. “Nao entendi,” “O que ele disse...?”
NAICE “Uma cerveja, por favor.”
THEM “Ah. OK.”

Translate it if you will.

I was in the Hotel Tropical again this evening. Lots of Americans there. No disrespect, but they really are irritatingly loud and cringeingly arrogant. And invariably pale and grossly overweight. (And far too tall for my liking…)
Some frog has just turned up and positioned itself strategically next to my beer. I’ll have to go and rescue it (my beer, that is). Ciao….

Patient care in Manaus

Well there we are – another interesting week. Naice’s dad, Pedro, took ill and had to have a hernia op. in Manaus. Having booked himself into a private hospital (the insides of the public hospitals resemble a down-market version of M.A.S.H., blood running down the corridors from the dead and dying who have been scraped off the streets without an insurance policy etc etc). So the private hospital was a must. Of course the logistics of the op. were a bit more complicated than usual, with Dad having to come over the river by boat (how else?) and get delivered to the door by car.

The hospital looked suspiciously clean and efficient (suspicious because there just isn’t much in Manaus that’s clean and efficient – or even clean or efficient). The agreed rate, I believe, was around R$3k for the op (about £850), plus R$800 per night of aftercare. So we got him there for 10:00am on the Thursday, and he was duly operated on at around 16:30 (2.5 hours late). He stayed there overnight, with Naice in attendance (you don’t leave your relatives alone in hospital here – they might accidentally be bagged up and disposed of while your back is turned), and spent most of the night in agony, with an occasional wandering nurse (dragged in by Naice) saying such helpful things as “oh that’s perfectly normal” etc. Anyway, come 7pm the following night (and due another night’s stay), the decision was made to run away. But where to…?

So at 20:30 on the Friday night, Pedro duly appeared, delivered by his son Robbie to our doorstep. He hobbled into our hastily prepared bedroom (no furniture, no facilities, remember?), and spent another painful night at chez nous.

To cut a long story short, after staying with us for four days, he finally was able to go back across the river yesterday, much to his relief I think. For our part, it was a pleasure to look after him and his wife Raimunda (who joined us on the Saturday), and we were sorry (but relieved at the same time) to see them go. He’s still in pain, but we hope he’ll be OK after this week. In the meantime, Raimunda took the time to show me how to make my own chilli sauce from some chillies she found in our garden (chilli plant in photo). Looking forward to trying that.

More Wildlife

There is a beetle here (I may have mentioned him before – big as a football – oh, alright, a tennis ball, anyway) who looks incredibly handsome (as beetles go), but is pretty, well, stupid. Every time I come across him he’s lying on his back with his legs going 19 to the dozen, without any hopes of righting himself. I’ve rescued him at least half a dozen times now, and he usually trundles back to his wee hole (big hole, actually) in the garden wall near the pool, without so much as a ‘thanks mate’. Except for tonight. Tonight I found him with his big face pressed against our door (I nearly stood on him - tripped over him would be more like it). So I left him there and went out. But I was unsettled. I started wondering whether he was in fact just taking the piss. Maybe it was all part of his plan. Maybe he’s a concrete beetle, eyeing up our door posts and quietly plotting how to undermine our foundations (he’s big enough to move them, I’m sure). Anyway I, um, beetled back home (sorry), determined to remove him to a place of safety (i.e. a long way from our foundations)…and the bugger has gone. Now I’m going to bed worried about where he’s gone to. But no doubt I’ll see him again tomorrow, lying in a heap, legs akimbo, pretending that’s exactly how he wanted to be all the time. Or at least I hope so…

Container

The container holding all our worldly possessions is still locked up in the port of Manaus after 5 weeks. We received word today that the officials there (who have done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for FIVE WEEKS) were now demanding that we dedetizasar (this verb makes more sense if you think of DDT) the container, as ‘all containers from Asia have to be dedetizasado’. Hmm, well Naice got a bit upset about this and suggested the officials who were demanding this go and get an atlas, and said that to the best of her knowledge and belief Europe and Asia were two entirely different continents. She then followed this up, with hardly a pause for breath, by telling them that if there were any damage as a result of this entirely unnecessary process (a process which, of course, WE have to pay for), we would be suing them. I enjoyed this part of the conversation muchly, although we wonder quietly whether we may have unleashed the bribery and corruption beast. Time will tell, but I will always maintain that the conversation was worth its weight in gold. Just wish our container was, too...

Water Levels

The water level on the Amazon has dropped from just over 8m (above some predetermined mark they use down at the docks), to 7.60m, since 23rd June. Things are not looking good for the floating bar. Will keep you updated with latest levels as the news comes in (that’ll be exciting, eh…?).

Gardening

Our gardener, Claudeno, has spent two days putting a wire mesh fence around the top of the garden so we won’t lose any wandering dogs or children down the wilder slopes around the garden (photos). The slopes are planted with various trees including Coconut palm, Mango, Papaya and Banana, but are pretty wild nonetheless. Besides being an attraction for the local monkeys, the bananeiras in particular are excellent hosts for banana spiders and scorpions, and the long grass below for snakes of various types and sizes. I haven’t plucked up the courage myself to make any forays down “the slope” yet, but I suppose I'll have to sooner or later. Anyway, now that the grass is all cut, the place is beginning to look a bit more respectable.

We’re having a party for some friends’ children this weekend, and all now looks organised for this. The ph of the pool is still too low, according to my litmus paper, so I’ll have to buy some more elevador de ph before Saturday. We’ve also managed to tidy up the bathroom a bit, so that the door, the shower and the toilet all work Ok now. This is good. Someone else will have to do the food, though, as I don’t know one end of a barbecue from the other (and it has to be a barbecue, as this is a national requirement, quite possibly written into the Brazilian legislation). The current barbecue contraption is seen centre of last photo. It looks completely cream-crackered to me, but Naice insists it has years of useful life ahead of it!

Telephones and other projects

Progress on the phone front. Naice finally managed to get us two mobile phones on contract (it has only taken 6 weeks…), and at the same time it would appear the local phone company are suddenly interested in installing a telephone line…and in a rash moment we signed up for Sky TV and this may be done within the same timeframe (2 weeks, maybe?) Of course for the latter, we need to supply a 127v electricity socket, for which we need an electrician. This could be a major hurdle – we also need an electrician to install two 220v supplies for air-conditioners, make the existing 220 and 330v pump supplies safe, and provide a distribution box near the wall where we are currently, um, borrowing electricity from the grid. Of course as soon as we have all this sorted out, we will be informing the electricity company of what we have discovered so that we can be on the right side of the law in a while (rather than have them discover, and get fined).

We have someone coming to decorate the house, too, so that we can finally get some furniture and be ready to receive our container if we ever get the thing out of the docks, and if the contents survive the fumigation process (see The Container).

Meanwhile the boat project is nearly completed, and next week Shamrock leaves the boatyard and goes to the local Suzuki guy to have the important bits fitted. We are also considering a few other projects at the moment. One is the installation of an electric gate at the house, which would require us to knock down part of the walls and do some rebuilding. The other is the erection of a chapel de palha, which is essentially a wooden, palm-covered, open-sided structure where one can sit in the shade or swing in one’s hammock etc. We could use this for ourselves and guests, as an area to sip a few bevvies from (or tea, if you prefer), following a dip in the pool etc. And I hope it may be possible to thus utilise some of the slopey bit of the garden by building it out on stilts. I’m also thinking of getting a bike (well, a scooter thing), which one of us can use to potter around the locale while the other has the car. Other than this, we’re getting reasonably organised and settled.