Brazil: Belem

20.09.2013

• Up for breakfast and out the door to catch a bus. I was convinced by my very sweet receptionist that this would be easier and cheaper than a taxi. Ok. She was even nice enough to walk me the two blocks to the corner where I would need to flag down my ride. A simple task to wave for a passing van. That is, unless it doesn't bare any distinctive markings that would scream down the streets, "I am the van for Sao Luiz!" Thankfully there are enough people asking for angelic accompaniments for my travels which sometimes come in the form of a kindly, older man who happens to need the same van and to intuit that I should be boarding it as well. Thus starts a wild four hour bus ride to the bus terminal during which I would come to appreciate my driver less and less. There is a great deal of faith and surrender that one must develop when throwing themselves to the whims of the wide world. Really, we are helpless to fate every day but there are certain ventures which do perhaps tempt it more than others. Today, I take deep breaths, find resolve and a sense of calm, remember the words of my new friend Maggie from the Kulshan tour that I am statistically more likely to die in an auto accident abroad (or suicide, statistically) that fall prey to deadly malaria, and double check my seat belt again; start another Sudoku puzzle.  
• Alive at the bus terminal I was quick to buy a ticket and commence a day of waiting. I had exactly 7 hours to entertain myself until my bus was to depart. It's a good thing I am becoming a pro at waiting. I just might have the patience of the Lama by the time I get home. I am sure that won't last long. There isn't much to talk about from this day. I had lunch in a restaurant at the station. A movie with Jennifer Aniston set in Seattle tugged at me from a TV screen over the counter. Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting for You played over the station speakers to which I may or may not have gotten a bit misty eyed. I savoured a Sonho de Valsa, which has a cashew filling surrounded by a thin wafer and then coated in chocolate. I have been eating them all over Brasil but not sure I have mentioned them in my blog. They are a drug. Warn your children. 
• My bus came and I boarded into the "Leito" cabin. This is like business "class" for bus lines here. Extra wide seats that almost fully recline. It didn't cost much more but will be worth it for the long ride to get a good night sleep. Besides, I am saving money on a hostel tonight! But, while was are on the subject of "class" sections for a moment, let me just make a few observations in an otherwise bland blog post day. As an outsider in Brasil, I would not claim to fully grasp the social politics of the country. As a person with a white identity, I would also not claim to be an expert on racism, though I am working to actively walk the path toward being an anti-racism activist. What I can do is make a few observations. Like that if you have lighter skin in Brasil I am more likely to see you on television or a poster for a movie. I am also more likely to see you on a poster for this current election cycle. I am more likely to see you on planes and in airports and in the more expensive restaurants I visit. I am more likely to see you on guided tours I join. I am more likely to see you in the south of the country in states with more money. I am more likely to see you shopping in the trendy stores downtown. Of course, if you have darker skin in Brasil I may have seen you at any of these places too - maybe just not as often, not nearly as often. I am more likely to see you on the bus than the airport and on public buses for that matter too. I see you at the airport but I am also more likely to see you working at the airport than your lighter skinned counterparts. I am more likely to see you leave the trendy stores and go home to the favels. I am more likely to see you in the north of Brasil which even Brasilians regard as "exotic" lands with a "different culture" as the heart of Afro-Brasilian life or the home of the Indigenous peoples. I have seen more images of people who look like you in museums that I have in popular culture with more Afro-Brasilian museums than those dedicated to the Indigenous history and experience which seems somehow obscured. I make these observations wanting to honestly see and question the places that I see. I say this so that anyone who might read it has an opportunity to look around your own communities, your own media culture, your own society and ask yourself where you see the intersection of race and class obscured in plain sight of the everyday world around you. Then, of course, to ask the difficult questions of Why, Why, Why, and Why again before asking yourself where you fit into the picture. I say this to anyone reading this but mostly to my lighter skinned readers. There is a saying that, when discussing issues of race, white folk start at kindergarten and people of color start with advanced degrees. If you are reading this blog, you are more likely to be white. I am white, a lot of people I know are white, it is easy for me to make friends with white folk, it is easy for me to negotiate easily in white culture. What is harder, is to see what white culture is or that it even exists and to begin to understand how that elusive but pervasive dominance of white culture robs white folk of an identity but can rob people of color of dignity, respect, healthcare, jobs, housing, financial resources, political power, freedom, human rights, or their lives. Is this what happens when I have too many hours to sit in a bus station (or on a 14 hour flight to Abu Dhabi where I am actually writing this)? Is this what happens when you get a masters degree in social work? Is this what happens when you develop real empathy and really begin listening to the lived experiences of others? Yes. 

21.09.2013

• I am going to skip the part about finding more personal zen with a crew of loud passengers on the bus and skip to the part where I arrived at the bus station in Belem and got a taxi to the Amazonia Hostel. Ok, I have hindsight now to know this would be another great hostel stay but when being asked to go get cash at a bank machine (to which I got lost on the way) and then remembering that there is no hot water at this location, I would say that my zen space was finding itself again tested after 27 hours of travel. Taking some time to G-chat (Google chat) with Kevin and blog for a while helped.
• Sitting in the dining area of the restored, 100 plus year old town home, I was greeted by Adriano, another guest at the hostel visiting from Sao Luiz (from where I had just arrived). We chatted a while utilizing my improved but still paltry Portuguese, his English (sometimes limited to slag, ironically), and a good ol' translation website. Eventually we were joined by his bestie, Hilton ("like the hotel," he says) and our newly formed trio walked to a nearby grocery store for another buffet lunch which wasn't half bad given that it's a buffet at a grocery store. Back home we chatted a bit more (strange how much you can communicate without actually sharing a language) and they intorduced me to some new Brasilian music artists including Marisa Monte, Vanessa de Mata, Jota Quest, Milton Nascimento, Lulu Santos, and a new favourite, Kid Abelha. At some point I was also introduced to my roomie, Cesar, who has a degree in literature from a university in France though practices law with his degree from Brasil. He also speaks English like a champ and became the go-to translation app for the afternoon. It was through him that I was invited to attend a concert tonight for Ivete Sangalo, the entire reason that Adirano and Hilton came to Belem. I equivocated. I was tired. Cesar, a wise man, told me that I would be silly to pass up VIP tickets to see the Beyonce of Brasil (his words). Acting on my commitment to "Say Yes!" to life and opportunities when they unfold for me and trust the magic of the universe, I said Yes to another adventure in Brasil. 
• We were picked up by friends (not mine, obviously) who transported us to the venue via a Hilton hotel to pick up other friends (where Hilton reiterated, "like the hotel"). We arrived in the parking lot of what seemed like a fairgrounds where throngs of eager fans were tailgating or buzzing around the gates. Tickets being sold out we had to scalp my entrance, complete with a blue, Ivete Sangalo, tank top denoting my VIP status, a privilege that come with early entry and near-stage "seats" (no actual seats). Red tanks indicated standard ticket holders but black colored tanks were reserved for some other group who had a rudimentary version of box seats. The stage was of a modestly gargantuan size set on a large asphalt area where we concert goers began to pack in like a box of raisins. Hilton and I got some food, drinks, and were back in time for the opening act. Let's see if I can Google who he was... looks like were are going to go with MC Koringa. After his set, the mood began to build and a frenzy was palpably around the corner as the midnight start time for the main act drew near. The music began. A light show. The stage doors part; Ivete emerges. Chanting becomes screaming. A crowd becomes a mob. Raisins squeeze together so tight they squeeze grape juice from one another. Ivete crosses the stage and the crowd moves in unison, like a school of fishing tuning on cue; like a school of canned sardines being thrown from a quickly moving truck. Tossed through the masses without any sense of control for my corporal being I, for the first time in Brasil, felt a genuine concern for my physical safety. Again, reaching for faith and learning to embrace the power and of new experiences (did I mention I do not go to concerts like this back home). I did write to Kevin the next day that I had a moment realizing that I was finding new means of accessing joy in what he would consider his personal hell. But, Ivete, it must be said, is quite the performer, and a great vocalist. The commanding diva from Bahia, she had the crowd's undivided attention and adoration for every moment of the two plus hour concert. By the time we caught a cab, got home, and went to bed around 4am, even I was a bit drunk on her talents. Saying yes pasy off again. I go to sleep realizing that Brasil has brought me some terrific surprise the first night in every new city I visit. I am grateful, deeply grateful, for these gifts. 

22.09.2013

• I woke up today with an email from Kevin linking a beautiful dance piece from the New York City Ballet set at the World Trade Center to "brand" September 12th (9/12) as a day of hope, rebirth, and the spirit of the resilient city. Thanks for bringing more beauty to my life, Babe. 
• Adriano and Hilton and I were all up surprisingly early for the late night we had and were ready to explore the city a bit, this being the first trip to Belem for each of us. We started with a walk past the Theatro de Paz (Theater or Peace, where I would later miss an opera), through a park where the usual Sunday merriment was in full swing accompanied by a live band, and down to the Estacao das Docas (Docks Station), a set of old dock warehouses remodeled into a modern shopping and dining and arts center. It was a bustle with the brunch crowd as singers and musicians played overhead of the diners on moving platforms. Outside, I got my first view of Guajará Bay, on the estuary of the Guamá and Pará rivers and gate to the River Amazon. Another milestone in my trip to Brasil - the wild, muddy waters of one of the world's great rivers where its mouth swallow in the sea. There is something nearly mystical in allowing myself to disappear into moments such as this. 

• We didn't stop for lunch here but instead wandered a bit further to the Ver-o-peso market, Belem's famous arrangement of buildings and tents where the daily catch is sold near the fresh produces, local crafts, love potions, and a myriad other products. A large tent structure in the market houses a seemingly endless row of food stalls where diners can saddle up to the counter on a stool and order any number of regional classics. Today, Hilton and I would share the pato no tucupi, a duck (pato) dish in a traditional soup broth (tucupi) which is made with jambu leaves which create a delightful numbing sensation.  Delicious. A very strong flavour but quite tasty. We joked with our cook/server duo behind the counter and made fast friends. They got a particular laugh when I explained that the boys had nicknamed me Gringa (feminine form referring to a white foreigner), that Hilton was now Louca (feminine form of "Crazy"), and that Adriano was now named, well, something I didn't realize had such a sexual connotation until everyone busted a gut with wide-eyed laughter when I said it casually. We have fun. At my expense sometimes, but, hey, I threw myself a roast for my 30th birthday - I can take it. 
• After lunch we caught a bus to the Basilica de Nossa Senhora de Nazar which was still close so we wandered around the block for a bit and Hilton stopped to buy religious paraphernalia from a vendor across the street. We walked by a closed carnival with the word Cirio which I would learn days from now is part of the celebration for the largest festival in Belem and the far north of Brasil which is now only three weeks away from its 2013 date (more on that later). We wandered into a nearby building where a church youth group Bingo event was being held which made me miss the YRUU youth group at the Bellingham Unitarian Fellowship that I had the pleasure of sharing time with the past year with - a group that gave me more than I could ever thank them for. We wandered back to the church, now open, and rested a while as the rain began to fall. Cesar told me later that it rains every day in Belem by 4pm (maybe not always but it seemed you could set your clock by it most days) and people seemed casual about stopping under awnings and into churches to escape the torrents and flash floods until they passed (which they always did). The immense and ornate space seemed dark in the shadow of the storm and there was some comfort in my heart sitting in the pew while we all sought sanctuary from one thing or another, rain or the trappings of mortal life.
• The church was not far from home and we waked there once the rain let up. We each retired to our quarters for naps, wiped out from the combination of a long night and busy day. When I awoke I had took up my writing and talked more with Cesar about food and art and history and culture and everything else. Cesar is traveling through Brasil visiting important historical sites relevant to the life of Padre Antonio Vieira, a 17th century Jesuit Priest who was imprisoned in Belem for speaking out against slavery. He was later exiled to Portugal where he had audience with the King who sent him back to Brasil along with a new Governor for the state to uphold his policy against enslaving native peoples. Now, given he was trying to convert the indigenous peoples of the region to Christianity which I take issue with but not enslaving people to labour camps against their will is maybe a bit more enlightened. Cesar is in the process of wiring a book about the Father who he believes is an important writer and thinker of the height of the Baroque period in Brazil which, as Cesar says, has a lot in common with the principle hopes of modern Brazil. His summation, Padre Vieira does not need Brasil, but Brasil needs him. A lawyer who writes about 17th century philosophical and political figures with Proust for "light vacation reading," I love this man. I do hope I will get to connect with him again as he leaves this evening toward home in Curitiba.
• Once we were all up and about, plans began to take shape for a trip to the mall for ice cream which had been on my list of gastronomic indulgences for my trip to Belem anyway so I was happy to oblige the offer. At the mall lives one of a a chain of ice cream purveyors called Cairu (New York Times reviewed). Cesar had already planned my order but I insisted on trying seven other flavours before finally taking his suggestion and asking for a cup of the bacuri which, memory later reminded me, is the same fruit that was used to make my drink the other night in Barreirinhas! It was so unique and so thick it was like stirring a ball of hot wax in the dessert. It was the perfect ending to a delicious day. That, and beating Adriano at a game of air hockey on the way out of the mall. 
• We walked home and relaxed for a while. We said goodbye to Cesar who left for the airport and a red-eye flight. Then, a short while later, I said goodbye to Adriano and Hilton as they left for their even-later-red-eye flight. New friends are not hard for me to make, often making themselves while I sit in awe of the warmth that people will offer a stranger. Saying goodbye to friends is harder and a regular practice these days. The mass farewells were tempered tonight with a brief Skype chat with my friend, Jolyon, whom I met in Hawaii in 2009 at a Gamalial Foundation, Community Organizing Leadership Training. He lives in New Zealand where he works is a Reverend leading the Social Justice Unit of the Anglican Diocese of Christchurch. It's nice to find inspiration in your friendships. I encourage everyone to remember to find inspiration in the people who surround your every day. Finally, my day ends chatting with a man who inspires my mind and my heart every day and with the music of Gregory Alan Isakov that was stuck in his head all night and which he shared with me, his happy beau. 

23.09.2013

• Alone again. Time to run a schedule and get busy. I have a map, a list, and nothing but time. I started at the Palacio Lauro Sodre which is a museum of the State of Para and city of Belem where I was given a private tour by Thiago. I learned that there was a revolution in Para in 1850 - an uprising of the poor against the very wealthy who controlled the resources and politics. After the revolution the state became an independent nation for a short time but, as Thiago describes it, the revolutionaries lacked the education and training and support to establish an effective government (and were likely blocked from doing so) and they eventually became a part of Brasil again. Thiago also showed me the entrance to the jail which was located below the staircase and under the building.
• My next stop Palacio Antonio Lemos which is the city's major art museum housed in another official palace of yore. The best part was that gusts must remove their shoes so as not to scratch the floors. At one point this left me barefoot in a grand ballroom filled with art and antique furniture which translates in my world to a bit of improvisational dance time. My favourite pieces were A Morta Bela de Carlos Gomes e as Alegonas Republicanas and the Tragedia do Brigue Palhaco. 
• Next stops included the Catherdral da Se before touring the Complexo Feliz Lusitania which is actually a collection of historical and cultural sites including the Santo Alexandre Church with its massive, carved wooden altar; the Museu de Arte Sacra which displayed religious artifacts from the area; the Frote de Presepio Museu, an old fort by the sea where I swear I saw a sea serpent; and the Casa das Onze Janelas Cultural Space where I saw a large collection of photography from Luiz Barga (an artist I saw at the photography exhibit in Sao Paulo) with quotes from Paes Loureiro as well as a collection featuring photographs depicting human violence and our voyeuristic attraction to it. 
• I then wandered into the Museu do Cirio which conveyed the history and meaning of the festival I described before in which more than a million people flock to the city to celebrate the day of Nossa Senhora de Nazar. It contained many beautiful artifacts and images which made me sad not to be lingering in town a few more weeks. After the museum I walked back to the Complexo de Ver-o-Peso to browse through local fruits and vegetables and fish and other foods and crafts and potions, making my way to the Estacao das Docas for a buffet lunch by the river. 
• After lunch I took a long walk through the city to the Porto do Sal and out to Mangal das Garcas, a botanical park with plants and birds and butterflies and other critters. I got caught in a rain storm and enjoyed a rest watching the largest crane I have ever seen run for cover near birds that were so bright I could swear they were made of candy. I saw a group of turtles trying to reach a branch above the water so I pulled it down closer to the surface so they could pop up and grab a bite. It was a sweet moment. My last stop was a walk to the Praca Amazonas where I visited Sao Jose Liberto, a church which was converted to a prison and now serves as a museum to the gems, minerals, and metals of the state of Para where I browsed expensive jewelry, toured the exhibits, and grabbed a snack in the cultural center. It was a great way to end a day of touring before heading home. 
• I also got another food goal met today. I went to a restaurant near home which only serves regional cuisine. Tonight's selection: tacaca, a soup with the taputu base, slated shrimp, tapioca gum, and jambu, the leaf of the manioc root which is cooked for seven days so that it is no longer poisonous to humans but retrains its analgesic effect which numbs your mouth when eaten. Sounds like a food adventure, huh? Cesar described it as "getting your mouth high." Totally legal and non-addicting. Well, you might want to eat more but not clinically addictive. For dessert, creme de capuacu, which had the consistency of cheesecake but the flavour of another intensely rich custard fruit, much like the bacuri but stronger. 
• A lovely day ends chatting with Kevin who sent me an article about a bus driver in Seattle who might even beat me for finding the simple pleasures in life, the joy in your work, and the connection with people even in brief moments that could otherwise be routine and passing interactions. More inspiring people - it's good to remember that some of our heroes should be the local bus driver. 

24.09.2013

• You know what is great about a day of doing very, very little? Lots. I get a lot of wiring done; I get to rest and catch up on mindless entertainment; I have time to nap; I can take a nice walk; I learn about things like the Google Books ngram tool which allows the user to look for trends in the presence of words and phrases in books over a defined period of time, words like sexism and racism, for example; I have time to chat with new hostel friend, Louisa, a Brasilian who now lives in Australia who has come home to visit family; I have time to re-read and give feedback for Kevin's latest short story before he sends it out for hopeful publishing (my baby's so talented); and, bonus, I don't have much to blog about which saves me future writing time! If you know me you might say I am a bit of a "Type A." If you don't know me and you came by this blog you would probably assume I am a bit of a "Type A." It may be so. No need to pathologize a way that I find pleasure in living. But, days like today, well, it's nice to play the B tracks. 

25.09.2013

• Today begins with a walk to a park and museum called the Museum Paraense Emilio Goeldi not too far from my hostel. Not having done much research besides studying my map of highlighted points of interest, I was surprised to find that my park and museum were mostly a small urban zoo. Caught in the rain I grabbed lunch, wandering past an enclosure with a beautiful cheetah who stared at out like a puppy wanting to play ball (or a hungry cat who hadn't the luxury to hunt). Under shelter I met Pedro, a (another) design student who reminded me so much of my dear, sweet, beautiful Kevin Malgesini (yes, another beautiful Kevin in my life) that I had to do a double take to make sure it wasn't him. We strolled through the park a few minutes together looking at turtles, owls, and an assortment of other small critters, most of the larger wildlife "exhibits" closed for repair or improvement. I'll start by saying that I grew up attending an animal park near my home in California called Marine World Africa USA where I would later volunteer as a camp counselor and youth programs assistant in the education department. I treasure those memories and the people I worked with who were committed to conservation education. The park has since been purchased by Six Flags and houses fewer animals and a new cast of roller coasters. A family friend is now a dolphin trainer at the park, someone I care about and respect greatly. This, of course, is a foyer into my contemplation of the ethical dilemmas inherent with animal captivity which has been in social discourse for as long as animla parks have existed. Some espouse cases to support zoos and aquariums, some are strongly against for a variety of sound reasons, and others (including famed primatologist, ethologist, and anthropologist, Jane Goodall) hold more moderate opinions. As with most things, the answers are important - the answers being policies, standards, laws. But, answers begin with questions which we explore through research. More can be learned reading articles on the subject and browsing information from the World Association of Zoos & Aquariums or the US based association's manual on standards for accreditation. Our actions can be informed by ideas and our own imaginations. 
• I did make a new friend at the park, Pedro, another design student (I seem to attract design students into my life). We met taking shelter from the rain storm and then walked the grounds a bit after the shower. It never fails to amaze me how easy it can be to make a new friend even when you don't share a common language. I said goodbye to my new friend, Pedro, and walked back to hostel where I chatted with my new friend, Louisa, who had just come home from an all day boat tour up the river. She showed me pictures of the person who demonstrated how to climb a tree to harvest acai berries. She also shared the last of her batch of fresh Brasil nuts, called casthinha de Para (nut of Para, the state where Belem is located and where the nut most commonly grows). I have eaten roasted Brasil nuts my whole life - those big, oily nuts in the mixed nut tin. Never have I had a fresh Brasil nut which has a texture and flavour something akin to coconut. Ah-mazing. Not quite a meal, these nuts, Louisa and I went for dinner at the regional foods restaurant I went to a coupe of nights ago. Tonight I was keen on eating the manicoba, a dish made with leaves of the cassava plant which are cooked for seven days to remove the poisonous cyanides from the plant (to which I wonder how long it took folk to arrive at the magic seven day realization, what happened to the taste tester at day five, and where someone finds the determination to go another day of cooking a plant after six days). 
• Over dinner, Louise downloaded some interesting 19th century history of Brasil and the royal family of Portugal, turned royal family of Brasil. Seems that when Napoleon invaded Portugal in 1808, King Joao VI and Queen Carlota Joaquina made a pact with England who would escort the family to safely in Portugal's colony, Brasil. Joao VI became the first European King to live in a colony which became the actual seat of the United Kingdom of Portugal, Brazil and the Algarves. Some scholars believe this to be one of the reasons Brasil established a broad national identity and remained a large country compared to other South American nation states which were defined by smaller geographical movements for Independence. Small resistance movements still occurred throughout the Empire but they were thwarted by sectioning off "trouble" areas into separate states to micro-manage the rebellions and limit the spread of dissent, one of the reason there are a number of smaller state in the Northeast of Brasil. 
• After years of absent rule and the fall of Napoleon (1815), King Joao VI was receiving pressure to return to Portugal which he did in 1821. However, he left behind his son, Pedro, to rule the colony with instructions to declare independence from Portugal if the revolutionary movement for independence became too strong. His thinking: better to have an independent nation ruled by a new king with ties to the royal court in Portugal than ruled by revolutionaries against the crown. Just one year later Pedro declared independence for Brasil on September 7th, 1822 wherein he became Pedro I, the first sitting sitting Emperor (a better title than just King, right) of Brasil. Pedro I later found himself in the awkward position of being Emperor of Brasil but also heir to the throne in Portugal. So, he abdicated the thrown of Portugal to his daughter who was later usurped by her uncle (Pedro I's younger brother). Amid sexual scandal and a challenging political climate in Brasil, Pedro I returned to Portugal to reclaim the country from his brother which he succeeded in doing shortly before dying in 1934 of tuberculosis. He was considered an important historical figure in Brasil and Europe who helped spread the ideals of Liberalism. 
• Now, when Pedro I left for Portugal, his son, Pedro II, was appointed the new Emperor of Brasil. Oh, and he was 5 years old at the time. He was raised to be ruler of a nation and became know for carrying forward his father's liberal politics with a focus on education, culture, freedom of speech, and a unique form of government, a functional, representative parliamentary monarchy. During the time of his rule, Pedro II left the country for a period and left his daughter, Isabel, as Regent in charge of the country. While her father was away she signed the Lei Áurea ("Golden Law"), a legal act made effective on May 13, 1888 that ended slavery in the country. The institution of slavery had been in decline in Brasil by this time but was the last nation in the Western world to abolish is after importing an estimated total of four million slaves from Africa, 40% of all slaves shipped to the Americas. Pedro II grew more fond of democracy and increasingly disenchanted with his role as monarch. When Pedro II was unseated in 1889 by a coup d'état by those who wanted a representative government without a monarchy, Pedro II made no resistance and left for Europe where he lived another two years before dying in poverty. The years following the coup were full of turmoil and socioeconomic decline as factions fought for power. Pedro II's popularity in Brasil endured and his remains were eventually brought back to the country with great fanfare as a national hero. 
• Why is all of this interesting? For one it is part of the story of this place and its people but it also raises a number of questions about the nature of independence and the identity of a nation. Who do people become independent from? What is the process of gaining independence? What does this process leave in its wake and what legacies does it create? Who are the key figures of a movement and who are the figures that are not seen in these stories? How do these stories and omission shape the policies and culture of a society? I won't propose any answers here but I will suggest that the questions we ask bring important new perspectives to things that we take for granted and things which have impacts on the lives of people every day. For more reading about the history of Brazil, visit a local bookstore and ask for the books by Laurentino Gomes titled 1808, 1822, and 1889. 

26.09.2013

• So begins my last day in Belem. I took the morning to myself and then took a buffet lunch near my hostel before taking off to the docks to buy a ticket for boat tour tonight. A quick stop at Ver-o-Peso afforded me a package of fresh Brasil nuts and a bowl of acai. While enjoying my antioxidant dish with an ample helping of sugar I spied a bucket of fresh acai berries and asked to try one. It seemed more like a large seed with a bright purple skin than a berry and I rolled the bitter taste around my tongue, thankful for added sweeteners.  
• I wandered through a few shops but ultimately decided that sleeping in the chairs at the docks was a better way to pass the time. Eventually the ship boarded for a three hour river tour. The sun was beginning to set through the clouds on the horizon as we pulled away from the dock. A band began to play and two dancers emerged to being their routine of traditional entertainment. To be honest I would have preferred more of a quiet ride with a bit of mingling and some soft background music. Then again, I did get pulled into a dance with a group of other passengers and got to two-step with an older woman from Japan beneath the party lights which illuminated the deck as twilight settled on the Amazon. I even made a new set of friends, a couple from Sao Paulo who were ever so sweet. It's sad sometimes to make new friends just before you leave a place. 
• I made it home with enough time to relax and talk with Kevin. My new roommate is from Paris and is 8 months into a year of traveling. We had plenty to talk about. Eventually it came time to shower, pack up my stuff, and head for the airport for my 3am flight. The traveler's life just keeps moving and at the oddest of hours. I thank Anthony Bourdain for coming to Belem to tape an episode of his television show, No Reservations, which I watched with my father  and which inspired my trip to Belem, a city that treated me well and fed me even better.