I am an old man


Oooo… my head… How much did I drink last night…?


What time is it, it’s already so hot…


Just a sec, how much did I drink last night?  I had one fruity drink at the beach, then I went back to the campsite and had two beers with dinner, and then… And then I went to bed!  Why do I…


have this thumping in my head?!

Simple dude- you’re camping on the beach in Salvador during Carnival, it’s 6 am, and one of the innumerable beach bars/clubs is having an early start to the day!

Ah, okay…

… I wonder if they’re doing a booze and breakfast type thing…?

I’d hit Salvador right at the culmination of Carnival.  Originally I had thought to go to Rio, but I didn’t want to rush the ride and everything I’d found said that Rio Carnival is for tourists, Salvador Carnival is for purists.  So here I was and it was fun.  For one night.  Well, a good half of one night.   It was loud, it was energetic, it was huge.  It was also like being at a fantastic house party where you didn’t know anyone and didn’t know the language.  People would start a conversation, but after our limited repertoire of shared language was exhausted, they’d move on.  Painted girls would bounce around me an get me to dance with them, only to give me a kiss and flounce away as my blank stare greeted their rush of Portuguese.  Despite this, I had a great time- and to be honest, a shared language isn’t required in these sorts of scenes, but I was happy to simply play the voyeur and then slink away well before the party truly got started.

Returning to the campsite covered in glitter paint and having a couple of quiet beers with the french guy on holiday from his work as an organ grinder in Avignon was much more my speed… as any old man would attest!


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