 |
| Click image for more ... |
It's a quiet day for Reg who wanders the beach by the hotel. It's the usual conference mayhem where things start late, speakers babble on, etc. But Robin Room got to be on a panel with a "sex trade worker".
Reg had wondered why there were so many women who were dressed up tartily in the lobby that day. Actually, most/all Brazilian women seem to dress rather flash with tall heels, tight dresses, revealing tops, makeup, etc. They are much more flash here than in Paris. But the flash is the kind of "don't you want to fuck me?" you associate with "sex trade workers". Sex trade? I thought it was a cash deal.
Kate is an examiner by telephone on a PhD thesis oral back in Canada. The candidate is a colleague's student at the University of Toronto (and a former student of Robin's). The exam is pretty marginal and they give her a conditional pass with edits required. But this eats up much of Kate's day. In some measure that's good as she was pretty hung over anyways and not up to much.
Later that day we (Kate and Reg) take a $25R cab to Olinda north of the city centre (recall the tour guide when we were buying our bikes). This is a UNESCO designated historic site with winding cobble stone lanes running up the hill to the Catedral da Sé São Salvador do Mundo. It's a pretty area yes, but we're swarmed by guides offering tours, kids begging hand outs, and tons of vendors selling trashy trinkets to tourists just like us.
The view from the look outs at the top of the hill here are quite good. You can see several more churches around the area all peeking out of the palm leaves. In the distance to the south we can make out Boa Viagem and, in the near distance, we have the harbor where we had our row boat crossing.
We buy some souvenirs (Reg asks again isn't the Pitu more than enough?) but return before seeing very much. We saw some lizards, guitar players, a man with a funny hat wearing a paper mache horse, all very interesting.
We had asked the taxi — no he told us — to meet again in an hour for our return. On the way back he gives us a slow drive through the area. It is very pretty, historic and probably very safe to wander about during daylight hours. But our time is short and likewise is our willingness to brave the city.
That evening we're meeting with Linda and Florence. Florence is a psychiatrist from Sao Paolo who Kate knows through her IRGGA work at KBS. She was at the Paris KBS (June 2002) but Reg never met her. There is a gang from the conference and we are meeting in the lobby to go to a dinner that Florence has arranged back in the old city. We're all going to Rua do Bom Jesus in Antigua Centre (where Kate and Reg had lunch the day of the bike purchase).
The nine of us zoom off in three cabs. They all drive off like they're loons just waiting to die but our cab, the last to leave, is the first to arrive. He had out raced everyone doing 100km/h most of the way on crowded city streets. The poor kids on motor bikes were really lucky that they didn't get run down. Cabbies flick their lights and toot their horns to get others to clear the path. And here's the interesting part — strapped to the dash board is a grainy B/W TV running some show that the driver is keenly watching as he drives!
An aside: we note that taxis slow down at lighted intersection but don't stop for the red lights. We learn that car hijacks often happen when cars are stopped at red lights!
Rua do Bom Jesus is an historic street with very colorful buildings with intricate Bric-à-Braca styling. We sit at tables outside on the sidewalk to be entertained by the music. A fellow plays guitar in the square under a sun-tent with amplification. We're constantly pestered by kids and vendors selling junk we don't want or need. Even the shoe shine guys are there offering their services — a different guy from our previous visit but the same deal.
We mostly have one of the may cod specials. Except for Linda who still hates fish. She'd not be impressed by the salt cod we have. It's not fresh sea food. Salt cod can be refreshed and quite tasty, this wasn't. But we had lots of conversation and drank lots of their Brazilian wines (good, but not great).
A shower came up and we moved along the wall of the building under a large awning to stay dry. It seems to rain several times a day. Never very hard or very long. Just enough to dampen your clothes and wash the streets.
The total bill, for all 9 of us, food and wine, with a 10% tip included comes to a little over $300R (about $100US). We all contribute to a cash pool. We'd like to leave a much larger tip — Linda tells us that the hotel staff only make about $70R per month. That 10% tip seems really minimal. But Florence, the rich psychiatrist with a maid, cook, gardener, and personal trainer from Sao Paulo and whose husband is a urologist, she pockets all the cash and puts it on her card without leaving any tip! She says, "We'll use that tip money for the cab ride back." Life isn't fair in Recife. We leave a cash tip of $5R for our waiter. But, in retrospect, damn we're cheap bastards too.
Our cabbie back is a little more sane but still toots and flashes his lights to clear the path. We take photos in the cab, of the street, of the cabbie, etc. He's not a race car driver and never shifts down. He just lugs the engine as he toots and waves at lots of friends as he chats on his cell phone.
Back at the hotel lobby bar — more caipirinhas! The girls are getting really silly, their conversation on husbands, men and lovers has been redacted to not embarrass anyone.
This is all getting far too silly and Reg toddles off to bed leaving the girls to their shenanigans. Later that evening he is awakened to some shrieking our in the hall and what sounds like a gang of vandals kicking over the tin ash trays. No, it's just the girls returning after the bar has closed. They are wild and quite drunk. I assume that again they closed the bar.
These notes are from a densely detailed travel log we kept at the time. Kate recently discovered it in August of 2026 and I have transcribed with minor edits, corrections and redactions so as to not embarrass the living ....
No comments:
Post a Comment