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Hi Mom,

I hope this email finds you on as beautiful a Texas spring morning as this one in Brazil's Fall. Its true this is equatorial Brazil and the seasons are impotent, but it did rain last night here, a rarity, and though I failed to make in home in time to reap the fresh water into my tanks, the universe seems to have been washed, reminding me of a fresh spring morning back home. I'm still in Pipa and have settled into the life of an illegitimate expatriate, unfortunately sailmail has been difficult to get through, so I've been building up a rather long email. Please bare with me.
My days revolve in beachcomber lifestyle, the kayaking around the swampy lagoon is fabulous and running on the beach among moonscape of 100 foot sand dunes each morning is an excercize in awe. I've been capping my serene weeks by booking into Pipa Village on Friday, in my little room overlooking the ocean, then dancing till dawn at my girlfriend's club. When I say till dawn this is not a metaphor, as her club is open-walled to the ocean, facing east, and not until the great burning orb sends it rays penetrating into the DJ's booth, enhancing perspiration upon every sobriety-free brow on the dance floor, do the all-nighters gather their wits to make the apparent walk of shame. I had briefly met Allisandra a few weeks back, when visiting Pipa with Chris and Julie, and had exchanged smiles at her restaurant/night club, and when returning in the Ole Soul I made a point of properly introducing myself and we hit it off right away. She and her sister Ana own and run Point 69, the trendiest hot spot in Pipa, both are in their early 30's and live the nocturnal life of club owners. More days than not, as the first suns rays steady my head, Alle tallies the till, then makes for her vampirouse dark bedroom. As you have always drilled into my head that sleep is very important, those same mornings I find myself strolling the streets with other friendly damsels in clubbing garb, wobbling the cobbled streets upon 3 inch pump-stilts in quest of a coffee vender, letting Allie get her rest. I then await breakfast at the hotel, not served until 7am, and after an hour of gobbling sleep most the day away under a hurricane force ceiling fan. My life is night and day from my first few Brazilian weeks in Recife, now in the alternate lifestyle of those who live by night, and I no longer worry about pickpockets and muggings in the comfort of a small Brazilian town where no one locks doors, where strolling smiles with 'bom dia' (good morning) is common as sunshine. I just remembered about my incident at Carnival had meant to tell about getting momentarily pick-pocketed in the last email, but had forgotten. I'll share a quick story with you as this had never happened to me before (surprising considering the times I've been in cities and crowds abroad), there's now a 12 year old boy out there who's lost confidence in his ability to outrun drunks.
Some weeks back at Carnaval, about midnight, having just bought a beer from a street vender, hands full unlit ciggy, I felt a quick pat at my pants front and I turned to see a kid in sprint crossing the street, his fist cupped with my last 15 bucks. I was nowhere near sober, in flip-flops and jeans, there was a decent crowd but still with running room so I gave chase. He got a boat lengths ahead of me before I started gaining, and by the time he looked over his shoulder I was barreling down, people were scattering to make way. I roared like a lion, inebriated lion perhaps, and he threw the money onto the ground. I came skidding to a stop as he made the corner and was out of sight. The kid was smart, he left me the choice to chase or recover, my last 15 bucks in lieu of dishing out a good spanking. I casualty bent over to pick up my cash, lit my ciggy, popped open my beer, and then turning back toward carnival I realized there we at least 50 pairs of eyes on me. From pretty girls to grandpas, no smiles what-so-ever. I shrugged and smiled, tipped my beer, not sure if perhaps they had witnessed the entire episode and taken it for something else. Group laughter broke out and a handful of "thumbs up" were tilted my direction.
Back to Pipa. All is good here and now am playing the happy illegal in Brazil...oops, perhaps I forgot to mention in previous emails? Well the deal is I've actually cleared out of the country, all the boat paperwork is cleared for Trinidad, including my passport, visa canceled, and am now an illegal immigrant. Some other cruisers clearing out of the country north of here, from the city of Forteleza were incurring expenses beyond my means for marinas and agents. They were also having problems with permission for stopping at "one-off" places like Pipa so I decided that the best thing to do was sneak up the coast and skip the cities. It will be interesting to note the impressions of officials when I finally arrive in Trinidad, only 1500 miles from here, having taken two months to make a 12 day passage aboard the Very Gypsy Slow. My situation regards fallout from immigration policies of America towards Brazil.
In our post 9/11 tightening of the immigration belt, tracking down and enforcing long neglected rules on visas, apparently a month or so ago we finally got around to deporting about 40 Brazilians who had overstayed. Of course this is in Brazil National News hyped with media spin of we paranoid, tight-assed Americans, and though I had a proper visa for 90 days, other restrictions on cruising were now being implemented instead of overlooked. Also creating anti-US sentiments seems to be a Hollywood movie about a group of Americans on a Brazilian vacation which turns into a misadventure of gastronomical issues, inner-city muggings and jungle kidnappings. Apparently the movie-cast vacationers got into every imaginable trouble that could be had in South America in a mere two weeks. Brazilians were not happy about this, less from loss of tourism than an insult to national pride. Making Brazilian friends has not been hard at all though, and when the movie is brought up, usually after drinking, I laugh and say "Hey Americans believe what's in movies about other countries only as much as other countries believe Hollywood movies are the truth of America!". Then I follow-up with "The fact is we all believe what we want to believe, which is seldom the truth because reality is far less entertaining!". To which I generally receive reluctant nods of agreement, followed by subject changing, usually to political in nature, and more sensitive like Iraq, the death penalty and gun law. Lacking originality I just spout the same exact lines, supplanting 'media' for 'movies'. If I had a nickel for every time a non-American, never having set foot in America, refers to something American with "I saw in a movie once" I'd be as knee deep in money as I am in bullshit and laughs.
In these situations I've gotten a little better over the years, having taken heat on numerous occasions; virtually all times being in the format of alcohol induced liberal minded targeting of the Texan. Sometimes youthful ideals even turn into one-sided raised voices, as was the case recently, which left me feeling a Lone Ranger at an international political summit keg party. All in group were impatiently waiting a turn to vent spin, none caring a less to discuss with open-minded interest, leaving me in wont to reach for my holster. With semi-honesty, I claimed to be impressed by such united opinion, then suggest energies of the group argue resolutions to issues, in sobriety preferably, it being seemingly simpleminded to take issue without thought to working resolutions, and that drunken venting on a lone vacationer, the same one to who all have laughed in company calling 'friend' just moments before, is inappropriate. I headed for the bar to let guilt of irrationality seep in. Upon return much had calmed, and I remind all that Texas, though not in majority, has a very large liberal constituency and they should not make assumptions, that their inebriated desire for confrontation possibly has exceeded opportunity. A few down cast eyes and reluctant apologies incurred, then I admitted that I am in fact a conservative redneck, and that my job is the guy who gives lethal injections to murderous innocent criminals, but only the guilty ones. Only on one occasion over these last years has a real asshole been invited to a nose breaking ceremony outside, a blatant confirmation of American tendency toward physical confrontation, Texan at least, yet fortunately is not a like-mind inclination, hence I was not taken up of the offer. On this particular occasion my interest was more to put a young Canadian woman over my knee...I didn't though, her boyfriend was too big. Hey I would not let down my international peers opinion of violence prone Americans any more than my like minded pals who would just as soon take a swing to teach a lesson in manners!...unless too risky.
Last night at a private party, at a Ex-patriot Scotsman's home, I had a great conversation with a retired Special Forces Frenchman who spoke 5 languages, mastering all with a highly entertaining and charismatic sense of humor. After an hour of geopolitical banter-babble (at least there's plenty of dirt on France as well... touche!), his biggest problem with America turned out to be the coffee, he having spent half a year exchanging training techniques in America with US Special Forces. All others in the group concurred on the coffee issue, there being representatives of 5 nations, European and Latin America who'd visited the states. Defensively I had no room but to agree, though not before pointing out that our coffee comes from nations like Brazil, and if complaints are being shared, mine was that the Brazilians are selling all the good shit to everyone else, and to the Americans they ship the dregs. With a knowingly nod to the others, and a triumphant verbal coup-de-gras in blustering guffaw, Claudio spouted "But that is what you are happy with!"
I shut up.
Back to Pipa.
I still feel like I am in the proverbial paradise anchorage, just minutes by buss from the coolest party spot on the entire coast of Brazil, and minutes by kayak to the most awesome beach imaginable, back-dropped by 100 foot dunes fading into the northeast horizon. Where a moonlight stroll always turns up sea turtles laying eggs, eyes weeping in protection from constant exposure to the air like mothers giving birth to offspring they will never come to know. Kayaking the mangrove estuary is a magical experience in bird life, a particular species of which is my constant entertainment. I still do not know the names of these birds, which live on flock of 50-200ish and are about the size of a dove, same coloring of grey, and have longish curved beaks. When startled they rise from the swampy grass vertically like so many miniature Harrier Jets in collision close formation, then gain speed seemingly overlapping their blurred wing-beats like a thin cloud of grey in fast-motion. They never really spread out as they dart making curving "S" maneuvers a foot or two above the water, taking out entire swarms of insects with each tactic. On occasion coming straight at me in the kayak, instead of going up and over as all other birds are want to do, they divide, passing to either side like a school of fish, leaving me in a wake of humming, pattering sound and disrupted breeze for several seconds. I cannot get enough of it as I sit wave-top stifling laughter at such impressive aerobatic agility… so what if I'm smoking when kayaking, it really is as cool as I'm trying to describe!
It looks like another two weeks in Pipa. Today the tide is at its highest and timed perfectly to leave early morning, the winds have been settled and there is little swell and the departure window closes tomorrow for another two weeks. I like life here and my new girlfriend Allisandra, and though yesterday she accused me of a girl in every port (not an entirely new shot across my bows) I countered that every week or two she has a new tourist Bo handily picked from the throngs gracing her Club. Basically we get along well and understand each other perfectly, so I'm just not ready to go and now another half month trapped in the shallow clutches of Tibau Lagoon... and Alle.
Other news is that I've booked a flight home for May 24th through July 6th from Trinidad. It was not expensive, only 700 USD and that's a hint to any reading this that might want to come back with me. I may be bringing Amanda or Christian (that's a big maybe kidds! lets see those grades!...and check my bank ballance)


Love you mom, make ready the "to fix list"

copied to friends, ben