So much has happened in the past few days. I'm not sure where to begin. I've been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride but I think I can probably settle down long enough to wrap up this trip report.
After my last post we headed down to a club called "Conferia" which had advertized house music on one of the flyers the fellas got handed. The guys caught a nice buzz over dinner at DNA while I stayed sober so I can drive them around. We roll down to the joint and it's a pretty cool looking spot. Designed sort of in the tradition of the old Jamaican dance halls. A big dinner area, comfy lounge / lobby, and a nice dance room with a big bar. Only problem is, it's Samba night. Matt is very irritated by this apparent "Switch and Bait". I don't mind it so much. I spend some time with a chef/jiu jitsu fighter and a Hotel Hostess from Puerto Alegre. They're cool people and we have fun chatting and dancing. I'm not sure where it happened but Paul and Kelly are gone. Matt's slurring as he comes to the lobby where I was kicking back with my new friends and he's very irate at the music and our missing friends. It's getting late and Matt looks on the verge of commiting a crime so I say goodbye to my friends and we take off.
We're both starving so we stop off at a late night joint. We order salads, get hot dogs (with no meat), send it back, and then take off because we think they're going to spit in our food. We find another food shack closer to home. As we sit down a group of vampires (I don't know what else to call them) sit down at our table uninvited. I don't know what it is about these girls but they creep the fuck out of me. They have nice bodies but I suddenly feel like I'm in a scene from interview with a vampire. I go inside and pay Matt and my bill in advance. Then I come back out and a new vampire is sitting in my seat. I tell Matt to eat as fast as he can and although he's drunk, having fun, and oblivious to my freaking out he follows my lead and we jet out pronto. I think maybe more than anything I was scared of seeing the sun and hearing the morning birds chirp before I went to bed. Bad flashbacks I guess. Maybe I was the vampire after all.
The next day, the guys go to the mall. There's no way I'm taking part in any of that. I chill at home, read on the beach, and return our rental car for a new one (long boring story). I also sit down with Kelly and fully listen to his baby mama drama and offer him some serious advice for the first time on this trip.
That night we roll around the streets of Lagoa, drink Absinthe, and enjoy the free outdoor public samba concert. Matt's having bad flashbacks of Conferia but I got a nice buzz and I'm lovin' the Absinthe. It's like the Smirnoff Ice version Absinthe and it's sold in every gas station and market in green bottles. Yummy. Kelly is mesmerized by the tall tranny's and Paul is in love with the mirrored storefronts. I'm still the DD and I drive home with a huge smile on my face and sleep like a champ.
The next day, we decide to explore the South West corner of the Island which we have not been to. Paul is anticipating a lot of traffic on the way home since we're officially in Carnaval Weekend. When we hit a particular intersection to get out of Lagoa and he sees the oncoming traffic he jumps out of the car. We continue on our journey and see a the most authentic, non-commercialized part of the Island. We take a boat to another hidden beach which is not accessible by road. It's wide and beautiful. Bushy green hills surround the expansive beach. Horses roam the finges and a few shacks nestled in the greenery sell food and drinks. You can see the mainland across the water. We play football and pepper, chat, swim, and have a good time keeping to ourselves. When it's time to go we decide to hike back instead of taking a boat. We have some trouble finding the trail back among all the green foliage and the locals who claim to know the way get us lost for a while but we all laugh it off and eventually find the trail. I love sweating and getting the toxins out. He hit a bit of traffic around Campeche but pull some jedi moves and use our detailed map to hit a shortcut around all the traffic. The sound of drums, signifying the local parades, is like a death sentence and we strive to avoid it. We arrive at the intersection that caused Paul to jump out. 9 cars and 3 minutes later (we timed it exactly) we're through it. I look forward to rubbing Paul's face in his own feces. I know he was bored all day because he kept texting us on the cheap little cheapy cell phones we had that only worked on the Island.
P: What are you guys doing?
A: We're on a boat?
P: Where are you going?
A: Hidden beach. You should see this place it's amazing. Have fun at the mall.
P: I'm glad you found something fun to do. Maybe now someone can remove the tampon from your hole.
A: Sorry. All out of Tampons. Can you pick some up at the mall?
By the time we get home it's dark and late. The the beachfront joints by our home are closed and we're scared to brave the reverse carnival traffic back into town for food. As luck would have it there is a huge gay hotel about 200 meters south of us. We go in. It's dark. Not a sound. We soldier on into the depths of this seemingly dead resort which hours ago was covered with brown gay bodies and speedos from wall to wall (according to Paul). We go the restaurant and it's open. I'm already drunk and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. No shoes. No shirt. No problem. The host offers the fellas 50% discount if their cute little friend keeps his shirt off. Sold. We eat at the buffet and it was hands down the best meal of the trip. No question about it. We're thinking about winding down after a long day, nice buzz, and full belly but we get a call from friends on our cheapy local phones and they tell us that we should not miss Pacha tonight. David Guetta' from Paris is spinning. Pacha is all the way on the North side of the Island. We debate it for a while. We already have a full day planned tomorrow. Is it really worth it? Does a bear shit in the woods? Does Paul flex is every photo? Does Kelly shower with CB SPF 1000? Hell yeah ... we're going.
It's pissing rain out. Our crappy ride is fogging up and the fellas are drinking. Matt's my navigator but he decides to call George for some idle chit chat in the hairiest part of the trip and I'm trying to drive and read signs through my foggy rainsoaked window all at the same time. Paul won't shut up and I snap at him. It was a moment of weakness which I regret. It's cool and forgotten once we get there. We're in awe of the size of this place in the middle of nowhere. The guys were short on cash but we assumed we could use our credit cards. No such luck. You gotta pay cash for the cover. Paul and I are the only ones with any substantial cash at this point. All our $ together still won't get the 4 of us in but we're in luck. Scalpers are selling tiks for 20 rials less outside. We can get in at that rate. We buy the tickets outside the lot and roll back in. This place is like a mall. Imagine a food court at a mall. That's how all the multiple bars in this place were set up. It also had an outdoor dancefloor the size of 3 football fields with the hugest DJ stand ever. The DJ stand and couches / dance floor around it alone was big enough to be it's own establishment. The headliner doesn't start until 3 a.m. and seems to alternate between really epic house and tweaky techno. Probably for the contrast I suppose. All melodic house sounds better if it comes after harsh, soulless techno. It was a very epic night. On the drive home I get to see the sun rise over Lagoa. I decide to treat the moment like a blessing, a beautiful moment, a gift from god instead of the dirty moment when you realize you've been up partying all night and sun is here to remind you what a loser you are. Not everyone shares my prespective and I have to listen to more whining but my spirit perseveres I go to bed happy.
Side Note: I've been conditioned to be ashamed of my "Americanness" when I travel. Thanks Dubyah. Sometimes I'm even embarassed to throw the ball around on the beach because I know it's an instant give away. But that night David played a remix of "American Boy" and all the girls in the joint lost their minds. They were dancing and singing the lyrics out loud. Maybe they just like the melody. Maybe they didn't even know what they were singing. I'd like to think they did. It made me feel fuzzy inside.
I get up after 4 hours of sleep and feel surprisingly good (probably because I drank nothing but water, and lots of it, the night before). We're headed to P12 because we love it. Once again, George and Benia have some of their promoter friends get us some passes up front and Anna is there to greet us. For the first time ever she seems a little tired but still in a good mood and very kind. The lack of sleep in definitely catching up with Paul and he hits the "Miami Zone". Last time I saw him like this was when he stayed up for 72 hours straight in Miami. He's hyper but sloppy at the same time. Strangely, he's flexible and non-judgemental and I like this version more than the others for some reason. We run into a lot of friends and it's a bit sad since we also know we're close to leaving. It was a nice chance to spend one of the last days of the trip with most of the people we've met. Sun goes down, beats of are absolutely epic, and I never want to leave. But we eventually do.
Matt and Kelly crash hard. Paul and I stay up and decide to head into town for quick internet and food. I haven't emailed Jen for days and feel bad. Plus we're both starving. Unfortunately, because we're right across from the most popular beach on the Island, this means that end of day traffic by our house during Carnival is insane. We sit in the car for 15 minutes and can still see our driveway. We turn around. Paul calls some ladies who are in Lagoa and basically puts in an order of food for us. God bless the kid. He might not have a soul but he's got game. His mackalicious skills save us from starving.
Our last day is spent at Praia Mole across from the crib. The day is cut short as a rain storm hits the beach and we go home clean up and head out for one last dinner with friends. There are some painful goodbyes and I retire to pack and prepare for departure. I'm excited to see Jen and kids. I have a picture of Max and Riley taped to the inside lid of my first aid kit. I don't know why it's there. I think it's because I figured that is the spot I'll be looking at if shit goes wrong and that's the moment I'll need the most strength. I leave the kit open on my nightstand and drift to sleep.
Officially, this is more or less the end of the "trip". We return the car at the airport, fly to Sao Paulo, and after a 10 hour layover fly first class (thanks to Paul) to DC. Unfortunately I hardly get to enjoy it as I force down the cardboard tasting gourmet dinner, slam a drooler, and pass out. Matt flies to Cali and the rest of us to Seattle. However, these 36 hours had their own share of drama and heartache.
I've always lived by the Philosophy of "Do the right thing and tell the truth." I try not to do anything I'm ashamed of and in turn take pride in always being in a position to tell the truth. I've tried to be honest and forthright in all these travel stories. However, I now find myself being asked by others to leave out crucial details and since love prevails I will abide by their wishes.
I am home now. I slept for 12 hours last night. I kept waking up not knowing who I was, where I was, or where I was going. Where am I? Who am I? Am I in Seattle? Is Seattle my home? Do they speak Persian here? How long am I staying?
I spent the day with the kids and Jen and I are trying reconnect at a stronger level. I didn't think it was possible but I've grown from this trip and have realized that I need to remap some things in my life that had become a bit unhealthy.
My final thoughts are odes to my travel partners.
Kelly you are a kind soul and a misunderstood gentleman. I think you're too good for the crowd you hang out with.
Paul I hope you stay forever young and never lose your spirit or enthusiasm. I envy you.
Matty supported me during my down times. Weather I was injured, sick, or emotionally distraught he had my back and I took immense pride in doing the same for him. He also covered for me financially in many situations. Like my mom once said when we quarrelled over who gets to pay the bill, "Whoever has more pays." Although I was the more financially successful of the two of us for the majority of our friendship, Matty's been killing it lately and gladly covered for me in all of our more "frivolous" expenditures. You are a rare friend. I love you brother. I'll never forget the chicken meal in the bus stop.
Jen's calling me up for dinner. It smells good. Like home.
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