Tick tock, tick tock.

Another weekend almost gone, and we've not done much really - we photographed the family EPNS, pushed around a few thoughts, went running (this is something else I'm working on - hey, why have one problem, when you can have lots of them? See The Old Sloth blog here) cleaned Ozzie's ears and allowed him to drag us round the neighbourhood a few times, went to see Uncle Tom and Auntie Margaret, and organised our entries in the Mull of Kintyre half marathon. Naice is also working on her application form for the Cambridge English teaching certificate, the CELTA, and hopefully will get this done before the day is done. Tomorrow, I will decide on an Estate agent and give them the go-ahead (yes, I've been dithering again).

Going, going.....

Naice has brought home a huge roll of bubblewrap and some cardboard boxes, and so finally the time has come to wrap up the family EPNS and get it sold. We can’t take it with us, and I doubt my sister or uncle would want any but a few pieces. It’s a pity there’s nothing of real value amongst them – I mean Antiques Roadshow type valuable (“Gran’s been using it as a spitoon for the last 30 years” (early 14th century ming vase, £3.1m)… “Found it at a car boot sale last month, mate - paid two pounds for it.” (Czar Alexander III Imperial Faberge egg, £1.3m)) etc. But alas, ‘tis not to be. On the other hand, I’m certainly not going to take it all up the Carrymebackey auction, where the best you could hope for is to sell the lot in a couple of boxes for a tenner a piece. No - I've decided, I’m going to pack them up and drive round some of the auctions in England, so that at least we can have a few nice days out from it.

Anyway, it’s only money and stuff – not what we’re after at all at all – although maybe I’ll buy another lottery ticket anyway (can’t hurt, eh?)

Show me the way to Amazonas...

Time for a note on where we’re going and what we’re hoping to do when we get there.

As mentioned earlier, Manaus is our initial destination. Capital of Amazonas - the largest Brazilian state - and gateway to the Brazilian Amazon, this will be our metropolitan base. But I must admit I’m more drawn to the jungle or river (one big dirty city is much like another, to me), so we’re also hoping to have a base in Careiro do Castanho, 100km south on the road to Porto Velho (the as-yet-unfinished BR319). After you cross the Amazon, this is as far down the road as you can get without using a ferry. I think it’s perfect, and an added bonus is that Naice’s brother Romulo has a house there. So whatever we ultimately do, this will be roughly the area of operations.

One of the first things we agreed is that we would take six months off, just for ourselves. Personally, I’d like to take the rest of my life off, but everyone tells me I’d soon get bored (are they kidding?). In any case, we’ll need to earn some money fairly soon, so six months it is. High on my agenda are some blokish things I just have to do, which Naice (my wife) feigns polite interest in. These include climbing the highest mountain in Brazil, the Pico da Neblina (Cloud Peak, or Misty Mountain, maybe), building a floating lodge, or flutuante, and buying a boat with an outboard motor. Naice, on the other hand, is looking forward to spending some time with her family, who live just south of Manaus on the BR319, where her dad has a store and petrol station (Posto de Gasolina Sao Francisco – if you’re ever in the area, pop in!). I think this is another one of those “you’ll soon get bored” scenarios, but we’ll see.

For the geographically-minded, using Google Earth you can see Naice's father's petrol station in pretty good definition at 3 degrees, 22 minutes, 11.12 seconds South/59 degrees, 52 minutes, 46.89 seconds West. The site for the floating lodge is further down the road and available in lower definition at 3 degrees 49 minutes, 15.21 seconds South/60 degrees, 22 minutes, 15.66 seconds West. Manaus, of course, is almost directly north of the petrol station, on the other side of the Amazon (actually at the confluence of the rivers Negro and Solimoes, forming the famous Meeting of the Waters in the photo at top left.)

Pass me the remote, please.

I'm sitting here watching the Brazilian TV channel on Sky, Record TV (Channel 810). No disrespect to any Brasileiros out there, but it's made me determined to install a satellite dish when we get to Manaus. The current programme is one of the Brazilian soaps, or novelas, called Bicho do Mato (rough translation: 'wild animal'- describing someone from the country - a yokel). As with all Brazilian novelas, the producers have the interesting ability to make any set - no matter how technically sophisticated - look remarkably like a set. And the acting, for the most part, is as wooden as it comes - as I write, a guy is doing "an evil laugh" to camera. (It probably says in his script something like "laughs evilly to camera".) Not that I've anything against the concept of the novela - much better (imho) than the concept of the soap, the novela has a beginning and an end. A complete story. Bloody marvellous - not like Eastenders, for example, which just seems to be an interminable exposition of improbable human suffering set in vaguely unpleasant social circumstances.

No, the main problem with Brazilian TV, I find, is that it's 78% infantile nonsense (assinine game shows, banal chat shows and the like), 10% appallingly biased, patronising news and current affairs programmes (see photo - a dynamic production, focusing on the engrossing subject of bad breath), 10% sports programmes where in-depth analysis comprises the word "goooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal" screamed into the microphone for periods in excess of 10 seconds at a time, and 2% stuff that's actually not bad (Fantastico, for example). The model is based primarily on the talentless rubbish that comes out of the USA, but with a lot of the talent removed.

But then I suppose all TV's going the same way - a quick flick through the UK terrestrial channels just now reveals the spellbinding "House Traders" (people who buy and -yawn - sell houses, BBC1), Snooker (fine if you like it, BBC2), Supernatural (yet another new series from the good old US of A, ITV) ER (pain, blood and social commentary on a stupefyingly uninteresting scale, C4), and 50 Ways to Look Great Naked (sitting in front of the telly with a packet of crisps, translucent folds of flab cascading over your privates, perhaps, C5).

Bloody hell, maybe we'll just not bother installing a TV at all. Which reminds me, I must write to the Beeb and ask them what the best way would be to pick up the BBC World Service (while it's still running). Now that's quality.

If I was any sharper, I'd cut myself

My knife sharpening kit (SpyderCo, bought from Heinnie Haynes) arrived today. I reckon this could be a vital piece of kit for our future in Brazil. Now I just have to buy some knives (well, actually, I'm going to practice first with the wife's kitchen stuff - won't she be pleased? She's got all those weird kitchen knives (the only one I ever use is the small one - good for opening cans of paint and such like), and they're blunt as b-anything...)

Now, I've decided that when I'm out and about in my boat, fishin' and huntin' and such, what I'll need is a decent knife. I know this, because I've been there before you see - I have wielded a machete in the jungle - and I know what a man needs for survival deep under the canopy. And anyway I've watched what's-his-name, the Mr Bushcraft chap, and he has a knife, so I need one too.

So I started doing a bit of surfing. That was a month ago, and I only finished last weekend - have you seen how many knives there are out there? Have you any idea how complex the subject is among the knife cogniscenti? We have a sick society, you know. I mean, do you want stainless or high carbon steel? How hard do you want your blade? What shape would you like? Do want fixed or folded? How long would you like your blade? Your handle? Full tang, riveted, or straight-through? Blimey. Anyway, after simply hours - days - of research, I've decided that what I really need is not one, but three knives. And after further hours - days - of research, I've come up with a list. And after further hours of deliberation, I've actually ordered the first one.

My list is as follows: first of all, I obviously need a classic fixed-blade hunting knife. I've studied the words of the gurus and I reckon the closest one to the right spec. is the Cold Steel master hunter, which (strangely for me) is not a particularly high-priced knife. So that's been ordered. Now, equally obviously, I need a folder as a backup, so I'm going for the Doug Ritter RSK Mk 1, which was designed by Mr Ritter (Doug to us survivalists) precisely for the purpose. This is also not going to cost me a fortune, thankfully. And finally, I need one of those machetes. However, I reckon (given all my new found knowledge and experience gained from wading through the deepest darkest parts of the internet), that what would be better (and certainly would increase my credibility enormously with the locals) would be a Kukri. Yes -indeed you may gasp at the audacity of this fine idea. I haven't quite decided which one yet, but this Ka-bar one looks pretty good to me - what do you think?

Well, that's one of the main priorities sorted out anyway. Now, about those passports...

See you later, er, caiman...

We’re finding it hard telling people we care about that we’re emigrating. Even though we’ve spent months deliberating and agonising over the decision, and even though many people knew we were thinking about it, it still comes as something of a shock - to both them and us. I even had to tell someone twice over a period of a couple of weeks, since obviously they didn’t believe me the first time.

And now that we’re telling people, we’re lying awake feeling guilty about it! I think these feelings are influenced heavily by age on departure, potential accessibility in country of choice, and likelihood of return therefrom. I say this because when I disappeared off thirteen or fourteen years ago, I recall it was with a sparklingly clear conscience: after all, I was simply going away to make my fortune, in the certain knowledge that I would re-emerge unscathed from the rainforest in due course, carrying sacks of gold and outrageous stories back to my friends and family (who would be waiting, hale and hearty, with open arms and bar tab). But it’s not like that anymore: the fact is we probably won’t be coming back this time. And even if we do, any friends and relatives who haven’t actually died on us will be – like us - in their dotage and quite possibly unable to drink for medical reasons (or simply because their hands are too shaky). And as for visiting us, well, yes – provided they have the stomach - and wallet - for 20 hours of flying and don’t mind the heat, humidity, mosquitoes and alligators (well, caiman, actually. Or maybe we could get back here occasionally? Hmm - maybe, but don’t bank on it – we’re going to need every penny just to get by (at least until I find those sacks of gold).

Charge me up, Scotty

We need to dump our 240v electrical stuff and get used to Brazil's 110v supply. So we can forget taking the TVs with us. Of course, you can buy step-up transformers to plug your 240v stuff into (£4.99 on e-bay - I think I'll take a few with me), but unless I'm stoopider than I think, this means we'll be using at least twice the energy to power everything (even assuming everything will work OK). So we need to start thinking of stuff we want to take, as opposed to stuff we want to buy over there. I think we'll add a decent kettle to the list (Naice just reminded me that Brazilians don't go into electric kettles in a big way - it's all gas). And there must be other stuff too. I think I'll go and start another list. In fact maybe what we need is a master list so that all the lists we have can be properly indexed...

Dog days?

Have just been to get the dog clipped, (Ozzie - in pic) and I asked the guy if he could show me how to clip him (Ozzie, the clippee - not the guy, the clipper), since it looks like we're going to have to do this ourselves when we get to Brazil. He (the clipper - oh dear, English is such a difficult language, isn't it?) didn't seem too concerned, and helpfully suggested I could come in one afternoon and see how it's done (that's "...come in, one afternoon", as opposed to "...come, in one afternoon" - oh never mind). Anyway, poor Ozzie doesn't know what he's in for.

He really is a worry, I must admit. Firstly, this is a one-way trip for him, realistically. There's no quarantine on entry to Brazil, but the usual 6 months applies on returning to the UK. I know we aren't proposing to come back either, but at least we could if we had to. Secondly, there's the logistics of it all. Putting the paperwork together at the right time in the right place and getting him on a flight with us is not easy. And he has to cope with 10 hours cooped up in a tiny cage, in the dark (plus the waiting time at either end - not pleasant). Then there's another 5 hour internal flight from Rio or Sao Paulo to Manaus.

We've decided not to attempt to combine the two flights - it would be too much for Oz. So we're going to get him out of the cage and find somewhere to stay for a couple of nights in Rio/SP before moving on. We're also going to investigate buying a seat for him on the internal flight (yes, I know, madness - but it is a one off).

Once we get there, he'll have to get used to the high temperatures, the humidity, and the bugs. And the fact that people don't generally have pets as we know them - most dogs are kept as working animals and are left outside 24/7.

One of the things I'll be doing is building a floating house near the jungle. I've already been advised that if you go into the jungle "don't take your dog, as it will be a magnet for birds of prey and other predators..." Oh joy. What is he in for? If he swims in the river presumably he'll be easy pickings for any passing caiman or piranha (I have a croc's-eye vision of Oz's little legs paddling through the water just before something launches itself at him. I wish I'd never watched Jaws.) And even if he keeps himself to himself, he's bound to be attacked by all the usual nits, jiggers, ticks, leeches, ants, fleas, bees, mosquitoes (there's a thought - can dogs catch malaria?). As for wandering into the jungle, well that obviously just doesn't bear thinking about. But of course, we can't leave him here, so we'll just have to look after him!

Anyway, after the grooming parlor, I also collected my bike from being serviced. I now have a functional back brake, which is nice. Of course while I was in the bicycle shop I got to thinking that I really ought to get myself a new bike for Brazil. After all, mine's 20 years old and built for fast, tarmac roads - not for potholed tracks. Hmm. I wonder if the budget would accomodate this? Some sort of budget hybrid thing, a cross between an off-roader and a racer like mine. Watch this space.

I think I need to stop thinking about Brazil for the moment, and go and do something routine and normal instead.

Hey - it's a New year. Let's emigrate!

Well, so much for my determination to be a regular blogger: 26 months between posts is unlikely to give the blog the "diary" type feel I was aiming for. Never mind - let's start again, shall we?

This is the year my wife and I will emigrate to the Brazilian Amazon (just the other side of the river from the city of Manaus - click to see a larger image of the map, if you're interested), and I'm hoping to document the process. No doubt we will look back fondly at it in years to come, and remember with good humour such jolly tribulations as the time the ship carrying all our worldly good sank in a freak storm, and how I fell on my head getting off the plane. But perhaps I shouldn't tempt fate...

Anyway, the estate agent has just been round to value the house. Now all we have to do is give them the go-ahead. I have a bigger problem than normal with this, since it marks a milestone in the plan. Aargh. Perhaps we'd better sleep on it. Or maybe not - after all, the timescale is set, and we're expecting to get on a plane to Brazil on 1st June. On that basis, we might as well get on with it. Of course there are one or two other things to do before we go (I think I'll post a list - might be useful for others, and someone out there may have different ideas we can benefit from?), but the 'biggies' are the house and the jobs (my wife Naice has already handed her notice in and leaves at the end of February; I'm still dithering, with the intention of doing the deed on 1st February). Oh dear - the closer it gets, the more dithery I'm getting...