I’m not sure when it happened. I stopped taking notes. My writer’s eye, the one that tries to remember everything for future retelling closed up. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve been flowing through life enjoying myself and not caring about much. I am no longer tired. But my heart is still true. It always will be.
I will try to remember everything to the best of my ability but forgive me if this ends up sounding like an uninspired middle school essay on “What did you do this summer?”
When I finished the last blog, the fellas were coming to pick me up so we can go out at night for the first time since we got to Flo. We weren’t really in the mood for turbo club action so we just hit the center of the local beach town and hung at the main intersection drinking beers and chatting with the locals. I ran into some guys that we had met on the south side of the Island. They had both lived and worked in the US before. One as a student in SanFran. The other as a ski lift operator in Utah. They were very cool. We discussed some cultural nuances of Brazil and America and they taught me some Portuguese. Most importantly “Grilled Chicken with Veggies” the most important survival phrase for me when I travel.
Funny incident from that night … while I was talking to my new friends in the street, the fellas went to a bar to get some drinks. I guess Paul asked a girl in Portuguese if she spoke English to which she replied in a very loud and annoyed fashion: “NO !!!”.
They told me the story later. A few hours later as we walk by with our new friends laughing and having a great time I see them sitting at the same exact table. Still alone. Still with no one to talk to. Poetic justice. I’ve tried to be as open as I can this trip and savor every new person I meet.
The next day we drive to the north coast. Jurrere. There is a day club there, P12, which is more amazing than anything in Vegas or even Ibiza when I was there 10 years ago. Paul’s local friend Benia works in an advertising agency that handles all the print and media for the major clubs around here and she had hooked us up with free passes. We also make friends with the manager Anna who is extremely classy and cool. Benia and her friend George meet us there. We also meet a few other promoters. It’s an off day at P12 since it really only pops on weekends but it’s a good opportunity to make friends and contacts. We have a fun, laid-back time and later Benia and George show us Mark’s house and take us to the Pharmacy for some ass medicine for Matt
By the way, on our way out of P12 Paul, who had pounded a few drinks leans into Anna’s ear and whispers one word. “Sexy”. It made me cringe. She had been so kind and classy. I really hoped that Paul had not offended her. Future visits to P12 proved me wrong. I guess a brother can go far with movie star good looks, a #5 smile, and little bit of confidence. Anna continued to treat us 1st class.
We drive home after dark and have to hurry since we’re going out with Reno to El Divino. It’s an amazing club. I get sweated at the door for having on a sleeveless shirt so I have to find our vale’d car a few blocks away and get another shirt out of it. It was a huge hassle but Matt and Benia who had met us there helped out. Once again, Benia came through and not only helped with the valet situation but also got us in. Reno had a nice VIP section reserved. I’ve always been fundamentally against the VIP concept at clubs. What’s the point of going out to a social function only to then isolate yourself from the crowd. I like to talk, dance, mingle, and just roam. I also can’t stand people who get their sense of worth or a good time from a velvet rope. Nonetheless, it’s a great time all around and we go home late but happy. Sadly, Kelly stayed home sick. We told him he didn’t miss much. We lied.
The next day was a fog. I can’t recall much. I get on the bikes with Matty and we go get some food and try to sleep a bit on the beach. Later he run errands while I read and then we get some health food at DNA in Lagoa. We try to watch “No Country for Old Men” on his laptop and fall asleep after the first 10 minutes.
Saturday we go back to P12 and enjoy the fact that Kelly is finally well enough to go out with us. We get him wasted which probably wasn’t a good idea. I stay dead sober and enjoy the antics of my loaded friends as I drive them home after dark. Life’s good. We meet some friends for Tai food and go to bed early.
Sunday is the big house music day at P12 and it’s OFF THE CHAIN. World class DJ’s. Best day of the trip by far. We meet Australians, Argentineans, Brits, and people from every corner of the globe. We also run into our American friend Mike who’s like a mini-Colin and stands out a bit due to his height and decent fitness. At this point Kelly is dominating the party much like Mack dominated the dive in Koh Tao (if you don’t know about that … sorry). Paul is kind of a big deal and Matt is on cloud 99. Paul has strangers coming up to him and wanting to take pictures with him. Matt’s beating his chest like a silver back in heat and the fans love it. I walk around with no ego for I am one with the people. I have a lot of fun talking to different folks and dancing. As the great philosopher Jeff Larson once said: “I’m the shit.”
The next day Matt and I go to Barra De Lagoa for some competitive volleyball. We’re disappointed with the quality of the competition but since Matt can’t jump due to his knee the games remain close. My competitive side comes out and Matt tells me I’m being a dick and he’s probably right. We go to bed early.
The next day turns out to be pretty epic. We go to the sand dunes of Joaquina for some sand surfing but it’s raining and you can’t really slide on wet sand. We’re not too disappointed since it would have just amounted to snow boarding down bunny slopes but still worth the experience. So Matt and I surf instead while Paul and Kelly eat and check the internet. Next, we hit Campeche beach and realize it’s time to finalize our tickets home.
There’s one thing that had been a source of uneasiness for me this entire trip. I could stay ‘til the 27th but my friends had to leave around a week sooner. I kept trying to convince them to stay longer but it seemed in vain. I considered staying alone or with the many friends we’ve made but I got really depressed when I did that in Thailand and didn’t want to feel that way again. That evening when Paul checks the loads for standby flights he discovers that no one can leave until the 24th. I’m ecstatic. Paul copes with the news. Matt’s non-pulsed. Kelly is devastated. But I know what’s best for him and assure him he’ll be glad this happened by the time he’s on his deathbed. (Which may very well have been the bed he was laying in as we spoke.) That’s just kind of bastard I am. Turns out I was right.
The next day we’re back at Barra De Lagoa. The competition is better and Matt and I play late. We tell the fellas to take the car home. We’ll figure out our ride. By the time we’re done my back’s hurting. We eat a whole chicken with our bare hands out of a paper bag in a dark desolate bus stop. Matt buys me Smirnoff and carry’s my bag again since my back’s wrecked. I cherished the decrepit meal in the jacked bus stop for, once again, it’s something only the closest of brothers can share with no pretension.
The next day is a lazy day at our local beach, Praia Mole. Matt, Kelly, and I decide to walk to the rock formations at the end of the beach and take pictures. It requires us to walk through a strongly gay area of the beach. Amusing but no big deal. When we get there, we find out that Kelly’s camera is out of batteries, again, and we have to hike back through gayland, again. When we get back to our bags which were being watched by some friends we run into Paul. Now he have to hump back through homoville again, this time with our trophy new boyfriend. We take some amazing pics. Kelly and I continue hiking over the hill to the next beach and it’s wondrous. Pictures from our crappy cameras will not do it justice. It’s also a nude beach which causes Kelly to sprint out of this killer frame I had set up because some naked guy came to within 15 yards of him. Lost a bit of respect for him on that move. On the way back we meet the first and only cool Americans we’ve met the whole trip (the only other one was a fat, drunk, obnoxious girl from Atlanta at P12). We eat at a cool beach bar with nice beats and watch the sun go down. I had met the DJ earlier that day through a friend and he wanted to give me a CD.
We got home and I took a shower earlier than the rest of the crew so I though I’d write this while they got ready. We’re going to Conferia for some house music tonight. Be safe and keep it sexy.
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