Phil vs Rod? . . No Contest

Friday 23 March

Today was going to be another idyllic sun drenched day, so perfectly suited to lazing on the loungers on our balcony, topping up our tans or cooling off in the pool - we were so lucky to have this room. We watched the birds wheeling over the bay and a couple of small lizards vying with each other for the top of the wall terriorty. We really didn’t want to move. But there were a few bits we needed downtown, so roused ourselves early in the afternoon and wandered along the esplanade once more. We started with another buffet lunch – they are getting to know us there now – the only English people that seem to frequent the establishment – and we were soon munching our way through an even larger variety of salads and hot dishes, supping beers and water.

We found the chemist shop – in fact we discovered three in one of the main streets – and then looked for shoes to replace my black ones that had fallen apart so recently. Having been disappointed on our first quest several days ago, we found another shoe shop – as opposed to flip flop shops - in one of the connecting side streets. This one sold a greater variety of sizes, although mainly sandals. I found several pairs that I liked, but only one was black, and wonder of wonders they had it in a size 7 – Brazilians sizes are two sizes larger than ours at home. Now we just needed pennies to purchase them – as we are leaving Brazil in a couple of days, there had been no point in taking out lots of reals beforehand, in case this quest was again abortive. We visited the ATM in the main square, but today that was not functioning, so the man in the shop advised us to go to Shopping 1 – a sort of small square shopping mall further up the road, that offered lots of choice for beachwear. Luckily enough there was an ATM operating, which, when we had deciphered the Portuguese, spewed out the required notes. Back in the shop the man wrapped the shoes in first a polythene bag, then a pink strong tissuey paper bag, threaded around the neck with pale blue ribbon and then a plastic carrier bearing the shop’s name. Perhaps the shoes would have been cheaper if they saved on packaging.

The sky had turned a pale lavender all round, and rumbles of thunder could be heard in the far distance – seemed as if we would have another night of rain. We strolled back to the hotel in the desultory heat, and sat once more on the balcony, watching the sky darken to indigo and then gun-metal grey. The rain started about 18.00, but there was no breeze tonight to drive it on to the covered area, so we were able to sit and watch darkness fall.

Tonight we had arranged to go to Havana’s again – we had so enjoyed ourselves two nights ago. By the time we needed to leave, the rain was hardly spitting, but we collected an umbrella just in case. Being Friday night, the walk there and the town itself were much busier and when we arrived we immediately became part of a crowd. The shopkeepers were at doorways, trying to persuade customers to peruse their wares, while others tried to tempt passers by into restaurants with their menus. We arrived at Havana’s and, as requested, were shown to the same table we had sat at before – the lady seemed a little surprised that we wanted to sit upstairs on the balcony and tried to persuade us to sit downstairs with an ocean view. But we enjoyed watching the entertainment from the lofty vantage point.

We decided to leave room for dessert tonight, so no starters. Colin chose the chicken dish I had eaten on our previous visit, with curry sauce and rosti, while I chose a medley of lobster, prawns and octopus tentacles, with a leek risotto. We asked for a green salad to accompany our main courses, but in Brazil salads are only served as an entrée, between appetizer and main courses, and the waiters find it hard to understand that we like lettuce and tomatoes, etc, to accompany our meat and fish. While we were waiting for our food to arrive, we were able to see what other people were eating – pizzas and pastas were popular, but so were the local fish dishes. Everyone seemed to clear their plates, so the food must be good. Our food was scrumptious – lobsters here are much smaller than at home, and the langoustine-sized prawns were nearly equal in size. The octopus tendrils curved their way round the plate to end in a spiral circles at the narrow end. We had been given mohjitas (the mint cocktail) free tonight, but we changed to caipirinhas as they served them here with less sugar and lots of lime, and they complimented our food perfectly (perfectos or muchos buonos in Portuguese). For dessert Colin chose profiteroles – we not had any since Russia – and the tiny crisp shells came stuffed with creamy vanilla ice cream and laced with warm melted chocolate, with pools of more chocolate in the corners of the plate. We ended up sharing the dish, and even I enjoyed this variation – I would definitely have to try this out at home.

The entertainment tonight was again three musicians – playing organ keyboard, guitar and drums, but in a very relaxed vogue compared to our last visit. The “organist” was a laid-back man, probably in his sixties, with short grey beard and “bushman’s” leather hat, who looked as if he had roamed the world with his keyboard, staying a while in places he liked, but always ready to move on. He was the leader of the group, but very much the accompaniment, leaving the highlight parts to the other two. The guitarist looked like an “educational nerd” – tall and gangly, with thinning hair, about thirty years of age. He was every inch the pedantic academic or techy, who desperately wanted to appear “one of the boys”, but never quite did. He followed the sheet music, note for note – the other two performed without music - and although he played extremely well, he never seemed at ease with the instrument - he tried swaying his body to the rhythm, but ended by nearly hitting his head with the “handle” – not being a musician I have no idea what this part is called. The drummer on the other hand was “one of the lads” – mid twenties, black beard and beige cap – who performed with an ease the poor guitarist would never achieve. His solos were more inspirational than following pre-written notes, and he was excellent. The music was not so varied as on our previous visit, but more soothing and relaxing. They played two sessions before we left, both almost an hour long. In between their slots tonight the screens showed a Rod Stewart concert – all in English – but which sadly lacked the vitality of the Phil Collins version we had seen the other night – but if you were actually there, I would think it was terrific – and he is yummier.

The rain had completely stopped and the roads dried by the time we left to walk back to the hotel – once again the umbrella had been unnecessary – we had been so lucky every time we ventured out in the evenings – missing all the really heavy showers. But the temperature must have still been around 30 degrees C – it was so warm. Back in the room we just caught up with the headlines, and had a short sit on the balcony, before turning in for the night.