Sunday, December 11th, Cabedelo...

... or more accurately, Port Jacare.

The first thing you need to know about this place is that they took the electric Bob Dylan at his word.  They don't play it loud, they play it  *******  loud. If it's not the soundtrack in the marina, it's the joint next door, and if not them then it's the racer boys in their hot hatchbacks with more horsepower in their bass kickers than in their engines. When they go head to head it is just indescribable. I do not mean it's just obnoxiously intrusive, it is sonic carpet bombing.

The second thing you need to know is that is really hot.

Late afternoon rolled around and we headed out to a waterfront bazaar, which has grown up around where the riverboats are based. It is actually kinda funky. Plenty of tat, but better stuff than that also. We ended up in a second floor open air bar. Beer by the bucket, some shared food and cocktails and the inevitable band. I have to give credit where due, they were decent players and versatile, but... But the front man never met a note he couldn't miss, by a mile. Jesus it was painful. And loud. It was a relief to get back to the cool breezes on the boat and the burgeoning moon. Things settle down early enough that the only intrusion was a distant barking dog in the nighttime(*) and cockerels at dawn.

Monday we took the local train, a modest air conditioned light rail number running on Brazilian Time into Joao Pessoa. Founded in 1585, this is the second oldest European city in Brazil and is loaded with interesting architecture. We also learned this is the poorest state in Brazil. The architecture is all churches, built on the broad hill top, and goverment buildings. Much of the rest is decayed. The city is clearly struggling. The train ride in offered up plenty of shack development and copious trash. The pavements (sidewalks) in the commercial parts of the city were choked with street vendors and I don't begrudge their efforts one whit. The dozens of large churches left no doubt about who is, or used to be, in charge here. Their baroque designs are of course a marvel, but the legacy of opulence amidst poverty does little to convince me of the sincerity of their espoused mission. We didn't get into newer parts of the city on the Atlantic coast, so my view is very likely skewed by our staying in the older parts of town on the river.

It was a long day's wandering around an unfamiliar city. By the time we got back to the station I think we were all cooked. The train back was of rolling stock that could have been purloined from The Bronx. Liberally graffitied, way past its expiration date, but it got us back, even if was a white knuckle ride as we recklessly accelerated past forty miles per hour.

Link to pictures for Sunday, December 11th, Cabedelo

-The bar
- Zeke sporting his new hat, not exactly a Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat, but good enough.
- Hipsters invade Brazil. Plaid shirt, check. Full beard, check. Too cool to exist 'tude, check. Though too many open buttons on the shirt give him away as more Disco than Mumford.
- Most of the building pictures are churches, monasteries and convents with a token scruffy building for context
- The 15:40 graffiti special back to Port Jacare
- Port Jacare 's Main Street, and I am not kidding you
- River party boat.
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* yes that was a deliberate corny reference. I can do worse.