“You never know, you never know with these things…”

My Swedish collegue Max from Barcelona just went off to Santarem, Brasil, to give some video workshops to the kids down there, together with three other friends. They work together with an organization that offers a lot of different social projects in Brasil, and they are part of the video section. Since it’s amazing to have someone directly down there, I asked him to provide me with some info about “how life in Santarem” really is. He runs his own blog called www.greenerthanparadise.wordpress.com too, but agreed to support me with more text info directly here. Well, here goes the first story.

A little travel story from the South!

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

This is Santarém.

09:15.

The sounds of the city starts off around 6.00 and is more handy than a regular alarm; you get to snooze for a while but the heat and especially the noices from buses, moto-taxis, cars and radios definitly wakes you up in a few.

In general the breakfast consists of a cup of coffee and pastry, or at least what i´ve seen so far since i´ve woken up much later than the average citizen. After downing a cup of the way to sweet coffee it´s time to hit the streets.

Normally people go either by bus, moto-taxi or taxis and there´s not that many pedestriants around. The sidewalks are really poor and the sun´s undescribably hot that it turns the unshaded areas into melting pots. You´re actually able to spot lots of beer caps and other metallic items stuck in the road looking like urban fossils. People don´t necessarily go out in broad daylight but when doing so you can see women passing with umbrellas or people resting every 20 meters under a mango tree.

If not staring the whole walk into your coco water you´ll be able to see iguanas, different types of lizards, rats, vultures, stray dogs and cats hiding in the green areas along the so called sidewalks.

The lunch is supposed to be the most important meal among brazilians according to our portuguese teacher Eddy but I can´t completly agree on that after having a couple of meals here. Anyway, he´s brazilian and i´m not, grilled fish with rice, beans, lettuce and some farofa is a typical plate during the lunch hours.

As the afternoon comes on more cars and pedestriants are filling the streets but it´s not the regular rush hour we´re talking about. The school classes are scheduled either on breakfast hours or during the afternoon so obviously lots of them are running around in frenzy or hiding under mango trees. And it seems to me as if the school´s not alone on this schedule; construction workes, billboard painters, waitors and likewise are mixing with the usual crowd. Lots of people uses bicycles as transports and during these hours it´s not totally surprising site seeing an entire family on one single bike.

When done working lots of people drag out rocking chairs, crates and other “sitting devices” on their front porch or in the middle of the street and just relax as the sun sets. There are some who actually bring out a whole churrasco, grill, and invites by-passers to join for a few reais. The meat is good and you get a whole dinner for less than 2 usd on these barbeques.

The smell of grilled meat wakes the dogs all over the city or, perhaps, it´s the lack of burning sun that is the actual culprit. Anyway, while walking you need to pay attention to upcoming fences or at least be aware of sudden surprises. The dogs chew saliva as if suffering from rabies and barks at anything. As one dog starts off barking the whole neighbourhood is quickly turned in to a concert or noice filled hell, depending on the spectator, of dogs barking. The dogs are being accompanied by crickets who are a quieter and, to weigh things up, a lot more longlasting.

Digesting requires cachaça or a dozens of beer, at least if you pay attention to the local boys. Fernando and Mar explains some customs to me and Bill when we, randomly, happened to stop at their corner shop.

“One bottle of decent cachaça is 4Rs. (2 Usd)” says Mar while pouring up another plastic cup for his friend Fernando. The scent of hot Cachaça is awful and the taste on a hot sunday night doesn´t change my opinion. I asked them what there´s to do on a sunday night and Fernando, a bit tipsy to say the least, explains:

“There are lots of parties around, one on Phoenix tonight… We usually drink cachaça like this and then get together with a bunch of friends for soccer at the square or down by the beach. When sweaty we get some ice cold beers and have some more cachaça.”. By the look of his 20yr old face I can tell that there´s some truth in that quote even though the macho way of dictating it reveals some good old bragging.

After a long day a taxi is helpful for your feet blistered from the first week wearing flip-flops. Or just because you´re a lazy gringo with way too much money. Anyway, the cab drivers in this town can be divided into two groups; the ones who´ll take you on an unguided and unwanted gringo sightseeing letting you pass everything but your requested direction. And then, fortunenatly, there are the ones, in fact the majority, who are really helpful and proud to know their city as the inside of their pockets and drives with admirable accuracy. When going with the latter you still get to see things but this time with an actual guide who´ll present every important building you´ll pass.

“They´re constructing a shopping centre here, the first one in Santarém!” explains Ignacio while passing a construction site. Curious I therefore respond:
“When will it be finished?”
“Nobody knows, you never know with these things..”

We pass a pick-up with girls standing on the back of it pounding the rhytm of Forro music onto it´s roof. Another cachaça bottle is opened in some part of this town and my hammocks is more tempting than ever.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Language difficulties

So three of us has finally found a good house here in Santarém and the usual stuff is missing out such as furniture and so on. Since we´re staying for just a few months there´s no need of getting anything fancy, or at least we´ve got a silent agreement on that. After looking around for tables and chairs in different stores the plastic ones seemed most tempting.

There´s a radical overpopulation of plastic chairs in almost every bar so when having a cold Brahma the other day we believed that we´ve stumbled on what would be the treasure chest of the day; the bar was offering tables and chairs according to a sign. We waived over the waitor for another beer and a confirmation of the offer.

“Are we able to buy some chairs and a table here?”
“Yes.”
“How much are they?
“The table? 20rs.”

In swedish we consider this to be the best deal so far and probably the cheapest table in the state which raises suspiciousness among us and another round of questions to confirm the offer.

The deal remains solid and the beers keep coming. As the clock strikes bedtime we order the check and ask for our new furniture. In return we get, not one but, two notes. First off, not that surprising, our check and second a small flyer with a picture of an old man with an ill suited microphone. It turned out that our expectations of getting a table was just bogus; there was no physical tables at sale just the seats for a couple´s night accompanied by the guy with the mic.

All out // Max.