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.

Bote II

Following a further visit, more photos of the boat, which is in the middle of being painted. Hopeful that next week will see the project completed and Shamrock on the water...

Bote

As promised/threatened, some photos of the boat. I had written several paragraphs about it, but have now lost them (twice), and can't face typing it all up again - so you're spared the detail for the moment. More when the project is nearing completion.

Update

As you can see, internet access has become even more spasmodic. This is due mainly to us moving permanently into our new house, which is in an area which is relatively remote in Manaus terms – so we have no mains water or sewerage, no telephone (yet), and our electricity is a “gato” or ‘cat’, which is an interesting euphemism for ‘stolen from the nearest electricity pylon’. Anyway, I’ve borrowed this connection from our friends Zaira and Flavio, who have limited broadband access in the nearby (very posh) Ponta Negra area, so I’ve taken the opportunity to provide here the first pics of the house and attendant wildlife. Speaking of which, everything seems to come in biblical porportions here, which is to say all the animals come two by two – we have 2 Sauim de Coleiras, 2 Iguanas, and 2 toucans. We’ve only seen one sloth, but the other one was probably just too slow to capture on ordinary film… The moth in the pictures measured just over six inches from wingtip to wingtip, and there are lots of other equally monstrous insects, but it’s difficult to get close enough to them to do them justice on film. I’m still working on getting a shot of the beetle that keeps knocking at our wee small door (Walter de la Mare..?).

Since my last post, we have had great fun trying to get a few things organised, predictably with only limited success. And Brazilian beauracracy (help – I can’t spell in English anymore – oh the shame of it…) continues to try to keep pace with continental drift (the continents are pulling away easily). Notably, our goods remain locked up by the local sheriff(s), although we’re moving (well, pointing, at least) in the right direction. In the meantime we’ve managed to get some necessities for the house (vis. one mattress, one fridge, one microwave, two plastic chairs and a TV), and have finally got the pool clean (at least we had until some nocturnal visitor crapped in it last night – strange to say the least!). [Note - to he who offered to come out as pool attendant (you know who you are), I would just like to point out that I have now spent 4 days cleaning the thing out and not only does every bone in my body ache, but the skin that was underneath the skin on my back that was burnt, is now burnt. So where were you…?] I now know how to operate the water pump and the pool pump, and yesterday we invested heavily in a small lawnmower B&Q wouldn’t be seen dead giving away. This is for our gardener, who threatens to come today to cut the grass and tidy the garden up a bit. We also have an electrician lined up to come and sort out some of the last occupant’s ridiculous DIY connections, and after that we may even be able to get an air-conditioner.

Pool

Since we’ve been cleaning the pool, it has struck us as somewhat ironic that as we move around from one spot to the other, rotating round the garden to avoid the sun, presumably there’s more than one of you back there rotating yourselves round the garden to avoid the shade. C’est la vie and all that…

Ozzie

Ozzie isn’t very well at the moment. We still haven’t managed to get him clipped (but hopefully today we will), and he has now been introduced to fleas and carrapato, which I reckon are somewhat similar to sheep ticks. So he’s bitten and hot, and feeling a bit sorry for himself. Hopefully by the weekend we will have improved things a bit. And we daren’t let him run around the garden yet, for fear of him running off into the jungle and getting eaten by something (or eating something, I suppose). This week we hope to fence off the worst of the jungly bits and treat the grass for carrapato, so that should help. I took him into the pool the other day (I thought it might drown the fleas), but he really hated it. Interestingly, his instinct for the doggy paddle kicked in as soon as his back legs were in the water, so even though his front paws were out of the water they were still doing the paddle. Amusing, except for the fact that in the absence of any water, the end result was my chest getting a good clawing (yes I know – serves me right – but he did stop scratching after his bath, so maybe we did kill off a few of the fleas after all). So at the moment Ozzie is moping about the house looking like a disappointed pig, but I’m really hoping that the next time I write he will be fully back on form.

Boat news

The boat is coming on rightly, and I hope to get some photos for the next entry(ies). So far, the boat builder has put nearly all the relevant bits in place except for the cover or capota. The thing now looks more like the Queen Mary than a 6m fishing boat, but hopefully that’s just because it’s out of the water. The next step is to fit the steering kit and the seats, and then paint it (navy blue on the outside and grey inside, with a white capota). The boat will be named Shamrock (after the one we saw in Plymouth) and carry the appropriate symbol too. This neatly avoids the issue of calling it Ozzie and upsetting Naice, or vice versa. After this, and probably next week, the boat will be delivered into the hands of the local Suzuki agent to have the 4-stroke 50hp motor fitted, along with the various instruments and other bits (lights etc). And finally, we have to order the various ancillary bits from someone else (life jackets, a ladder, fire extinguisher etc etc), so that we can take it to be properly registered with port authorities.

Still no progress with the floating bar, I’m afraid. There just aren’t any floats around for the area we’re interested in. This is making it look increasingly like the project could be delayed a full 12 months. Frustrating, but not a disaster – it will happen in due course. All the paraphernalia is carefully stored for appropriate time – thanks to all contributors!

I find myself with a spare 15 minutes of internet use, so here's a quick update. Today we had our first rain since arriving. Very welcome it is too, as the temperature has plummeted to just below 30, which my burnt back is finding most comfortable.

Our car, which went into Renault yesterday for assessment of an oil leak, has failed to emerge and we probably won't get it back until tomorrow now. I guess that's what you get when the French laissez faire and Brazilian amanha attitudes combine.

We're still not in the house permanently, but hope to be tomorrow. Or maybe the next day...

Went to see the boat yesterday to check on progress, and asked them to move the main seat back 10cm. This was due to my re-checking my plans and realising that the 100 litre fuel tank I requested (and on which I will be sitting) is positioned just forward of the theoretical point of equilibrium. Does this make any difference? I asked myself. Well, drawing on all my years of boat building experience, I figured it probably might - so I thought moving it as far back as possible would be generally a Good Thing. Perhaps those of you out there with more knowledge of these things might advise? (Although it's too late now, anyway...) As far back as possible turned out to be 10cm, otherwise it would have compromised my other requirement, which was to leave a space of at least 170cm between this seat/tank and the rearmost seat, so I can get things like huge fish in the boat with ease, and so I can lie down if I want a snooze (and tie a hammock diagonally between the posts supporting the cover). Anyway, next visit is tomorrow, when I'll be able to see all the seats in place and give my authorisation for the next stage (whatever that is).

Ozzie hasn't been clipped since we got here (things still being held by the Gruppenfuhrer at Manaus docks), so he's beginning to look like a big ball of fluff. We are getting him clipped next Tuesday, so we can allow him out of the air-conditioning, poor chap. Must get clipped myself soon, too...

First day in the house

We spent our first full day at the house (except for sleeping there, as we have no bed as yet), and I have started cleaning the swimming pool. I thought this would be a pleasant and generally enjoyable thing to do, but was quite wrong. Apart from anything else, unless you have diving gear on, it´s almost impossible to get any force behind your scrubbing brush when you´re standing at the poolside and the brush is six foot under the water. And then there´s that dashed sun. I can´t get in the pool, ´cause it´s too dirty, and I can´t stand around it when it´s too sunny or Í´ll get burnt to a crisp (I know this, because I am that crisp). Then there are all the chemicals - chlorine for this, sodium for that, something else for the other thing. And the pump, and the filter, and the dead frogs in the water, and the insects, and the leaves. And finally, I thought I could solve the riddle by just draining the pool, giving it a good scrub and filling it back up. The problem is, it holds 60,000 litres of water, and our water tank holds 2,000. The water tank is fed from an artesian well in the garden, and it took an hour and a half to fill it up with the little green water pump we have. So....I empty the pool, we´re immediately into, what, 30 tank-fulls at 1.5 hours = 45 hours of pumping? And anyway, we have a small stream at the bottom of the garden, and the environmentalists among you will think it pretty not-on to pump 60,000 litres of dirty, chlorinated water into it. Jeez - I´m already thinking of filling it in and planting an herbaceous border instead. (Only joking).

On a more exciting note, we had 5 visitors to the garden during our first full day there. Firstly there was a big fat froggy-toady-thing in the pool (and still alive, as no significant chlorine in the pool at this point). So I helped him out and chucked him down the hill towards the stream. No doubt he will return.

Second visitor was a preguica, or sloth. We thought it was a monkey, until we saw him reach out veeerrrryyy sllllooooowwwwlllyy to pick something off a branch.

Shortly after this, we had a pair of collared monkeys come up to steal fruit off one of the trees. They´re Sauím-de-Coleira monkeys, quite small and on the endangered species list.

Third visitors were a pair of toucans, who were playing footsie in and around the garden for a while, making quite a racket (tsk tsk). I´ve seen one in the wild before, but it was much much bigger, so I think these were red-billed toucans.

And finally, we had a big green iguana lolling around in the top of one of the trees.




Quite a toing and froing really, and long may it continue! Other than spending time trying to identify our guests, it was just Naice doing some tidying up and me getting burnt while trying to figure out how to clean the pool. But it was really great to finally get our own space, although we´re still sleeping at Sao Jose as we haven´t much in the way of furniture yet.

I´m hoping to get some photos posted up soon, but until I can get wireless access, it isn´t going to happen. In the meantime, I can tell you that the house is quite small and unassuming, with two bedrooms, a through lounge-dining-kitchen affair and a couple of wee rooms which could be an office and a store room maybe. The main bedroom has its own bathroom and there is a separate, so-called ´social´bathroom for guests (although at present it´s not very social, I must say). This is all on one floor. There is a separate area below the house for the live-in (no, we won´t be having one), comprising a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen/utility area. The grounds slope down towards the house, so that above the house is a swimming pool and covered barbeque area, and at the very top of the garden, near the entrance, is a small kennel block and the water tower. And that´s it, really, except for the view. To the rear and left of the property is a small valley surrounded by rainforest. We have no way of knowing when this will all be chopped down (tomorrow? next month next decade?), but you can be sure it will be. Until such times, we will enjoy it and look after it as best we can. Hopefully it´ll still be there when you come to visit, and who knows - maybe the pool will be clean by then too!

New house

This post is a bit out of sequence I'm afraid, but I'm going to have to go in a moment and have no guarantee of when next I'll get internet access, so here's the latest...

Cutting a long story short, we finally took the plunge and bought a house. It was over our original budget (nothing new there then), and not precisely what we were looking for (ditto), but we both loved it the minute we saw it. After some strategic toing and froing and some reasonably hard bargaining, we got the price down from R$290,000 to R$200,000 with an air-conditioner thrown in(!). I don't have any pics yet, but will endeavour to post some in the coming weeks or months. For those who like google earth, you can get a clear picture of the site (it shows the original house, bottom left, and oubuildings, right) at 3 deg 1 min 36.11 sec South/60 deg 4 min 30.04 sec West. It belonged to a vet, and the outbuildings are actually kennels. A new house was built on the site of the old one, and a swmming pool (yay!) added in 2003. We hope to move in tomorrow, so more on this later.

We've also placed an order for a small 6m powerboat (bote - as per awful pic), which should be ready by the end of the month. We've had no luck so far with the floating bar - there are currently no available boias or floats in the area we want to place the bar (3 deg 49 min 13.13 sec S/60 deg 22 min 17.95 sec W), meaning they would have to come over 100km by river from Manaus. Eek. Still looking, but if we don't find something this month, the water may be too low for us to get the boias across, meaning a delay of almost a full year. Keep you posted.

Manaus - the start of things

Sadly my poor addled brain is apt to forget lots of things (as many will attest), so I'll have to give you the gist of events, and when I can put together a more complete diary I'll add anything of interest at a later date.

After ensconcing ourselves in our billet in Sao Jose (b&w pic) and recovering for a while, we visited old friends Charlie (Italian) and Annick (Belgian) on Sunday and had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Annick was able to tell us of someone who was selling a car which was almost new. We weren't desperately enthusiastic (in Brazil 'almost new' or semi-novo can mean anything up to 200,000km or 10 years), but said we would have a look. Having arranged to do this, we then proceeded to look at some new (and semi-novo) cars first. Ha ha ha. The price of a half-decent 2-wheel drive people carrier is around GBP30000 - GBP40000. Anyway, we then went to look at the recommended semi-novo, which turned out to be a Renault Scenic with 16000km on the clock. Apart from a few dents and scrapes and a leaking oil sump (cars have it tough here), and apart from being French and a Scenic, it looked pretty good...so we bought it for R$35000 (around GBP8000). First problem resolved.

Meanwhile, back at the house, we were suffering from a distinct lack of air conditioning, and had discovered quickly that walking the dog, apart from being a ludicrous thing for anyone to do in Sao Jose, was fraught with problems. Firstly, the roads are like mini obstacle courses, with drivers of all sorts of vehicles competing at high speed for any available patch of unholed tarmac. There are no road signs, no traffic lights, no zebra crossings (ha ha ha), no road markings. Where there is any pavement, it is usually covered by weed, rubbish, turds, stray dogs and dead people (OK, I exagerate slightly on this last point). To get to one, you have to first traverse the stream of water cascading down from all sorts of dubious outlets protruding from the popular houses lining the road. These usually culminate in open sewers located at strategic points so that you can either drive into them, ride into them or walk into them. The stray dogs, of course, are not used to Irish royalty (I refer to Ozzie, in case you doubt) striding purposefully among them and piddling on their favourite posts or mounds of rubbish. So of course they round on the offender to chase him off. So we quickly discovered that walking the dog needed two people - one to keep Ozzie in check until he's done what he needs to do; and one at the rear with a big stick to fend off the repeated attacks of the locals. All this in 34 degrees of heat is somewhat tiring, and normally results in us (all) collapsing on the bed after the walk. More of a battle than a walk, in fact. So far, we are winning the battles, but the war is clearly theirs...

Phew!

Phew indeed. It has been an interesting (Chinese sense) time since our last post some 3 weeks ago now. Since for the forseeable future my posts may be pictureless (but I'll do my best), I'll keep them short in order not to bore you too much.

You may or may not know, but chaos reigns in the skies of Brazil at present, with hordes (squadrons?) of flights cancelled or delayed, so we were relatively lucky that our flight to Manaus was delayed only 2 hours. Interestingly, since the break-up of the national airline Varig, the most common carrier now is called GOL (Goal, in English). It is difficult to know who they're modelling themselves on (see pic., if I can upload it) - orange livery, pay-per-bag, no seat booking, no food, sour faces, no refunds etc etc. Hmmm.

The good news is they've put their latest modified 737 on the SP - MAO route, cutting the time down to 3.5 hours. Hooray! So we arrived late afternoon, and when we emerged from the airport it was raining - I thought for a moment they'd flown us back to Belfast. But that rain was the last we've seen since then, more's the pity - no more now until October.

We were picked up at the airport by Naice's brother Robbie, and driven the 40km or so back to his house in Sao Jose, which is an area rather hopefully described as being "popular". Makes more sense when you understand that 'popular' in Portuguese can also mean 'poor''. Anyway, that's where we remain to date, although we hope to be moving tomorrow morning. more on this in a mo.

Sao Paulo

Well, here we are languishing in Sao Paulo, waiting for Saturday and our onward flight to Manaus, 2500 miles away by air, or a lifetime away for us (well, half a lifetime).

Ozzie was rescued this morning from the clutches of the dreaded Receita Federal or Federal customs. We arrived at the (helpfully unnamed) central cargo area at 08:30 this morning, and after visiting British Airways once (6th Floor, Room 21), Infraero 4 times (Ground Floor, Room 5), the Federal Vet twice (Ground Floor, Room 6), the official cartorio (or place where you are sent to get forms and copies of documents) 5 times, and the Banco do Brasil once (Ground floor, Room 3), we were finally able to secure the release of our hostage to outrageous bureaucracy at just after 11:00am. A typical exchange went something like

"We're here to pick up our dog, and here are all the papers."
"Do you have a form 1234xyz?"
"A what?"
"A 1234xyz."
"Um, no."
"OK. Go the cartorio and ask for two copies of form 1234xyz and come back."
"We'll also need copies of this...and this...and two copies of this...and this."
After a round trip to the Cartorio....
"OK. Now you need to take this, this this and this to Room x."
In room X...
"We're here to pick up our dog etc.."
"Do you have a form abc123 and def456?"
"No."
"OK. You'll need to go to the Cartorio and blah blah blah."

So, you may ask, why don't the people who need the forms keep copies of the forms, and/or do the photocopying themselves and/or tell you in advance what you need to bring? Well, because half the Brazilian population is employed in taking photocopies and running from room to room throughout the land, that's why. Let's face it, if anybody got the hots for a bit of intelligent efficiency, the entire economy would collapse.

Never mind, he's here now and none the worse for it. He's been out to see what Sao Paulo looks like (big, smelly, hot) and have a pee and a poo; he's drunk half the water in our minibar, had some food and a bath, and he's flat out now on his blanket. Meanwhile Naice has had to go back to the airport to sort out the tickets for Saturday, and we've to get him examined by a vet tomorrow to get his cert. for onward travel.

The hotel is fine - only 15 mins from the airport in the district of Guarulhos, northwest of the main city which can be clearly seen from the hotel, sprawling out like some giant lego set, with helicopters and planes whizzing around everywhere and above which floats a huge pall of brown smog. Lovely. The few of the 29 million inhabitants we've encountered seem happy enough with it, but it's not for us. The only thing that has impressed us is that all the taxis are converted to run on petrol and gas and alcohol (no, not at the same time). The favoured fuel at present is gas.

BTW, our internet access is a bit hit and miss at present, so forgive us if you're awaiting an e-mail response or anything. This is likely to get much worse before it gets better, so please bear with us.

Whistle-stop tour of the South & Southwest

The success of our foray to the Royal Albert Hall (photo) was followed by a second journey to London to deliver Ozzie into the hands of the kennels.

From there we drove down to Plymouth to see my cousin Anton, and enjoyed a very pleasant evening there with a curry followed by a drink in the nearby Irish bar. We took note of the various cultural artefacts on display, that we might replicate these in Brazil (mercifully there weren't too many leprechauns or shamrocks etc), and Naice reckons she has a good idea of how it's all going to look.

Next day Anton took us to see an old (1899) sailing barge (photo), called Shamrock, after which we have decided to name our own somewhat smaller version in brazil. After this we were off again, up the A38 to Bristol, thence to Chepstow, on to Gloucester and Stratford-upon-Avon and back to Scunthorpe. We were suitably impressed by the Clifton Suspension bridge, the Tamar bridge, the Severn Bridge, Chepstow Castle (well worth a visit) and Stratford's half-timbered houses.

Once back in sunny Scunny, and after a good night's sleep, we were treated to a wonderful meal in the company of the now-long-suffering Dawn and Garry, and today Garry managed a great barbeque to round it all off. I'm sure they'll be glad to see the back of us tomorrow, but we'll miss you!

We leave at 12:00 to drive to Heathrow, drop the car off and get to the bag drop off point (we managed to check-in online and get decent seats (for scum-class, anyway). I will as usual be asking for a free upgrade when I get there, but on the basis that the usual response goes something like "ha ha- if only I had a pound for every time someone asks..." etc., I'm not hopeful. I hear about people who know people who do this successfully, but now that I think of it I've never spoken to anyone who has personally succeeded in the endeavour. Perhaps it's a myth.

Anyway, this will be our final post until we get to Brazil, so thanks again to everyone and talk soon.

Sunny Scunny

We caught the HSS ferry on Friday morning, delivered there by Rabea in style. The journey was fine, and Ozzie didn't seem too upset after his trip in the HSS kennel (on the car deck). We hired a Focus Sport 1.6 and the drive to Scunthorpe was uneventful, except that I strongly recommend not buying a petrol Focus Sport 1.6 - what a dog. They must have put the word Sport on the badge just because it shares the same initial letter as Slow or Slug. And far from the 56mpg we got out of the diesel version of the same car on our trip to the Mull of Kintyre, we're lucky to get 32mpg out of the petrol version. What a pile of crap.

We're now enjoying the excellent hospitality of our good friends Dawn and Gary in Sunny Scunny. The weather has been ridiculously good, and we also managed to fit in a trip to see Happy Birthday Elgar at the Royal Albert Hall last Saturday.

Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 (Land of Hope and Glory)
Cello Concerto
Enigma Variations
Pomp and Circumstance March No. 4
Cockaigne Overture
Julian Lloyd-Webber - cello
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Christopher Warren-Green - conductor

Apart from the 7.5 hour round trip in the car, the concert was excellent, with Julian Lloyd Weber playing his heart out and the orchestra doing us proud with three choruses of Land of Hope and Glory. The sound of 5000 voices in vague harmony in the RAH really has to be experienced in the flesh.

We have finally exchanged our Sterling for Reais, having watched the exchange rate collapse on us at just the wrong time. C'est la vie. And tomorrow we take young Ozzie down to kennels at Heathrow (boo hoo), where he has to wait for his papers to be processed before his flight next week. From there we drive to Saltash to stay with cousin Anton, and thence to Kidderminster to visit the auction house where our 3 irish watercolours will come under the hammer in June (if we make £300 we'll be lucky). We'll be back in Scunthorpe on Saturday and after a day of rest we'll be driving back down to Heathrow on Monday to fly out in the evening to Sao Paulo.

Our passports languish with the Brazilian Embassy in London, despatched there on 23rd May in order to get a piece of paper confirming that we have been resident in the UK for the previous 12 months (which means we avoid being taxed again on the goods and money we are transferring to Brazil). I have rarely come across an institution so utterly and consistently incompetent as the Brazilian embassy. Nuff said. Hopefully they will send the stuff back tomorrow and we will get it by Saturday. Talk about cutting it fine...?

It's your round

The farewell get-together for drinkies happened as planned at the Cutter's Wharf in Belfast on Wednesday 30th. It was great to see everybody again before leaving, and we really appreciated the company!

Thanks to everyone for a great night - here are some photos from the evening, and if anyone has any others that they'd like posted, please send them to me at home@maguirenet.com I'll add them as I get them. Click (or double-click) on the images to enlarge them.

The hardcore drinkers who remained took part in the pub quiz which kicked off at 10:00pm, and whilst the highlight of the night was just seeing everybody again, I have to mention that we won the quiz by 2 points, after some fine cheating principally by Peter, Lee, and Sarah. Well done. I'm still convinced there's a biblical character called Tarantulus. And if there isn't, there should be. The prize was a bottle of Vodka, which Sarah swopped for wine, and which Stuart made disappear.

Naice's lasting memory will probably be Sarah shouting "los-er" at the guy trying his best to win the £350 "open the box" event (it's a long story), and she now refers to Sarah as "Mad Sarah", an accolade she probably richly deserves (in the nicest possible sense).

Thank you all - you're wonderful and we'll miss you. If anyone hasn't sent me their e-mail address, please do so and I'll keep you up to date. After some discussion, and based on my Cousin Anton's original idea, it looks like the official opening of Maguire's Floating Irish Bar and Cultural Centre will be 17th March 2008, so I hope you'll all be able to come. We can provide the food, drink and accomodation if you can get yourself on a plane.

Mull of Kintyre visit

The actual Mull of Kintyre half marathon run itself is detailed on the running blog here. However as far as the trip to Campbeltown is concerned, we can thoroughly recommend it as long as you’re not in a rush. The round trip from Stranraer was just over 500 miles and the journey time there is around 5 hours. Of course you can shorten this by clever use of ferries, but a) they’re not cheap and b) you need to time everything properly to take fullest advantage.

The roads are pleasant enough and there are dual carriageways up to the other side of the Clyde, using the Erskine Bridge. Then you’re down to the slow tourist plod past Loch Lomond before the bulk of the traffic turns off on its way to the Highlands. The rest of the way is all single carriageway but through some lovely countryside which you shouldn’t really want to race through anyway. We sopped at Inverary on the outward journey, which was OK, although I recommend staying away from the chip shop on Main Street, which is crap.

The rest of the journey is pleasant but largely unexceptional, following the main A83 route through Tarbert and down the west coast of Kintyre. When you hit Campbeltown your first impressions are likely to be that it’s closed. Abandoned, in fact. There are a couple of interesting buildings, perhaps, but pretty it is not. Never mind – we drove through the town and on to Machrihanish to the west. We stayed at the Machrihanish caravan and camping park run by Dave and Chris, and rented a Wigwam for the duration, which we can recommend. Dave and Chris(tine) are refugees from dan saff, escaping the shitty side of UK society and enjoying their first season in Machrihanish. Good for them.

The only excursion we had time for was towards the Mull of Kintyre (Mull means point, apparently). We didn’t get as far as the Mull of Kintyre lighthouse, but we did stop at Keil Caves and had a fine view of the Mull and saw a seal sunning itself on the rocks and lots of otters playing around it, which we feel was much better than a crummy lighthouse.

Following the race we decided to take the scenic route back to Tarbert, and this really is one of those ‘musts’ people talk about. The road is narrow (single track) and hilly, but is a spectacular route. It’s on the national cycle path map (was it route 93? – I can’t remember) and I would think it would be a stunning cycle ride, with lots of things to see and places to stay.

We tried to stop at the Loch Fyne Oyster bar and restaurant on the way back, but apparently you have to book. How really tiresome. We ended up instead opting for the “Diner” you’ll see sign-posted at various intervals along the way. I won’t say too much about this experience, save to say that I hated my food and Naice loved hers. We were agreed that the service didn’t quite reach the dizzy heights of ‘pathetic’.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful and we deposited our Diesel Focus 1.6 back with Hertz in Stranraer before getting the Stena HSS ferry back to dear old Belfast.

209623 - licensed to pleasure

The RYA navigation exam was passed with only one wrong answer given. I can hardly say this was the most taxing exam I’ve ever done, but I’m still pleased it’s in the bag and I am now the proud bearer of one International Certificate for Operator of Pleasure Craft. Happy days.

!

The CEVNI inland waterways navigation test scheduled for today at 12:00 has had to be re-scheduled for tomorrow afternoon...because I couldn't find the test centre.

Timing...

I am so glad the weather has turned miserable again, as it clearly vindicates our decision to resign from our jobs, sell our house, and throw all our furniture on the tip. Moving to the rainforest, in this context, must be viewed as the icing on the cake.

I also find myself freed from the tyranny of the tie, with promises of salvation by the shorts. This is undoubtedly a good thing, and I am already eagerly listing all the things I will be able to do as a result. I’m up to item number two so far, so it’s going well I think.

Meanwhile Ozzie steadfastly continues to behave as if everything is normal, although this may change next Tuesday when we accompany him to the grooming parlour to learn how he likes to be clipped. Even with our earnest good intentions, I fancy he will find out what it feels like to walk around looking like a disappointed pig.

Our decimated agglomeration of personal effects begins its journey tomorrow, 18th May, when the container ship departs Belfast on its way to Le Havre. We will be closely following its progress on the internet.

Finally, our money is languishing in an HSBC current account while we try to organise getting it to Brazil. Meanwhile the Brazilian Real continues to strengthen, while the pound suffers gentle subsidence. The longer term prognosis for the Real is pretty good; that for the pound, less so. While we’re hoping for some unexpectedly good news on the British economy, the chances are small, so I think we just need to get the transfer done as quickly as possible. Timing - the essence of all good exchange deals. Arf.

25 days to go.

Now we are transportless too.

Well, the BMW was finally sold last night, to a Mr David Doherty from Glengormley, bless him. The car was delivered to him last night and he gave me nearly £8000 in cash. He wanted to give me this on Saturday afternoon, but I didn’t fancy the idea of not getting it to the bank for two days, hence a small deposit had already been received. All the dosh is now sitting next to me in this café in a small rucksack, but if you have any ideas about this, you only have 25 minutes before it’s deposited in the building society across the road.

We’ve also managed to cancel a few DDs and SOs and some insurance policies and so forth, so the admin’s getting a bit more organised. Now we’re researching the best way to transfer our dosh to Brazil. I’m sure there’s an obvious solution to this, but am finding it hopelessly complicated. The various options appear to include:

1) use the bank, transfer pounds, leave it to be exchanged in Brazil
2) use the bank, let the bank do the exchange, then transfer to Brazil
3) use a specialist agency in the same manner as for 1
4) use a specialist agency in the same manner as for 2
5) open a sterling account in Brazil and transfer pounds, exchanging in Brazil as required
6) exchange pounds for dollars here, open a dollar account in Brazil & transfer dollars, exchanging in Brazil as required

And of course what complicates it further is how, when and with whom do you negotiate the relevant exchange rates and charges/fees etc?
If anyone knows anyone who’s familiar with all this guff, please let me know!!!

The CEVNI test

That's the written test on the Code européen des voies de navigation intérieure, to you pal. And I have to take it so that I can apply for an International Certificate of Competence to operate a motorboat on the Amazon. Not that the Brazilians give a stuff about whether I know the European waterways regulations or not, as they don't actually apply in Brazil. So, for example, the direction to the effect that

un feu ordinaire rouge et un feu ordinaire blanc ou un feu clair rouge et un feu clair blanc,placés à 1 m environ l'un au-dessus de l'autre, le feu rouge étant le plus haut,

may be required from time to time, is likely to be as unintelligible and irrelevant in Brazil as it is in the UK.

Never mind - don't you just love senseless bureaucracy? Especially European - especially French - bureaucracy. Jeux sans frontiers, indeed.

One car down, one to go....

We have sold the Yaris. Even this was difficult, and took over a week’s worth of advertising and a price £500 below guide. As yet we have only one person interested in the BMW, even after 3 weeks of advertising and at about £1000 below guide. We have another 3 weeks to get it shifted, otherwise it’ll be down to the local dealer to get a fiver for it. Ah well.

We also have two remote controlled yachts left which we’re giving some thought to now (at 5ft high and 4ft long, these are not items you just put in your luggage, and anyway since there’s no wind in the Amazon, remote controlled yachts are not a particularly interesting proposition).

What else do we have…oh yes - one small watercolour purporting to be by Hugh Thomson, the Irish illustrator for Jane Austen and the like. I’m tyring to get the Ulster Museum to take a look at it, although if I do, no doubt it will turn out to be a £1.50 fake.

Other than that, I think we’re fairly organised now. Just some clothes, a dog called Oz, a laptop and papers, and 4 very large (and relatively empty) suitcases. All this stripped-down, baggage-free living is all very well, but it does make me wonder what we do if the container doesn’t turn up. Speaking of which, we have a reference number for the container so that we can track it online. Although I had hoped this would something like the little blip on the map you get on flights, apparently it’s just a text update. Pity – I rather liked the idea of watching the container chug slowly to France and then to Port of Spain and finally up the Amazon to Manaus.