Still judging

I wake at 6:30. And feel shit. I decide to give a shower a miss and stay in bed for another 40 minutes.

I see Thomas at breakfast again. I'm not the only one without enough sleep.

"I ate too much meat last night." He says.

“You should be used to that, living in the States.”

I drink lots of coffee and orange juice. To wake me up and to replace all the lost vitamins. Along with the usual scrambled egg, cheese and ham. Plus fruit, of course.

A breakfast pudding of watermelon, orange juice and coffee.

Michael Hall comes around and gives me a beer. Which is nice of him. I get to choose and opt for Hop Rising Double IPA.

Two Military Police are grazing the buffet today, That’s a change. The other days it’s been the city police.

Just a minibus this morning. Have that many of the judges left already?

I’m judging today with Carolina Barioni (Brazil) and Dario Elia (Italy). I’ve judged with Carolina before.

Our morning flights are, er, varied. Kicking off with Special/Best Bitter. The surprise is that one is really good. Biscuity malt, English hops. Pretty much spot on. Let’s not speak about the others.

Six samples of beer for judging.

Next is a mini-BOS of Hazy IPA. Nothing too sludgy, thankfully. Picking three good ones isn’t too hard.

The penultimate morning flight is another mini-BOS: American Amber Lager. How can I put this politely? I didn’t care much for any of them. Let’s leave it at that.

The morning ends with something much more to my taste. A mini-BOS of Belgian Quadrupel. A bit sweet, overall. But a couple of really nice ones. I finish off the ones I like. I hate seeing good beer wasted. When I could be getting wasted.

I go to lunch with Chris. And have the same as yesterday: tomato risotto and sirloin. The meat is dead good. As I've been roped in for BOS, I order a caipirinha. And then another. And another. That gets me right in the mood for BOS activities. And the espresso I finish with should keep me awake.

A lunchtime caipirinha.

My pre-BOS is with Andreas Fält. As he lives in Leeds, we have a chat about the city and its pubs. In particular, the Cardigan Arms. My old local. He knows it well.

We have thirteen UK styles. All are pretty good. But the IPA is a standout. We agree, making the discussion on which beer to pass forward is a very short one. Then I'm done, as I'm not judging the BOS itself. I'm free!

As only one person is on the bus, I realise it won't be leaving for ages. I decide to get an Uber. Paula is, too. So we share one. On the way back, she tells me about visiting Space Adventure, which I can see from my room's window. It’s right next to the rocket.

I have a peek in the petrol station shop for essential supplies: cola, a sandwich and some cheap vodka. It saves pissing around going to a supermarket. I pay in cash. Which is quite a novelty.

My plan is to eat in Boka's, a seafood place. Before I have chance to leave, a thunderstorm breaks. A full-strength one. As if the world is about to end. Each lightning flash a silver sliver of sunlight. The lights on one of the high rises downtown flicker off. What happened there? I may have to rethink this evening.

Wind and rain whip around and contort trees. Cars creep cautiously down the street, headlights flickering behind the swirling rain. Thunder booms and cackles at the few people scurrying about. No fucking way I’m going out in that.

In a change of plan, Thomas suggests that we go to Starfish. where we'll get a free beer and a discount on subsequent beers. OK, I suppose.

When the rain has receded to just pissing it down, I grab an Uber.

I assumed Starfish Cervejeria was the place. How wrong I was. That's just a weird little taproom which isn't open. Fuck Starfish, then. I take another Uber to Boka's. Where there's already a table of judges. I sit next to Michael Hall.

We order caipirinhas and a mixed seafood platter. It's supposedly for two. In reality, it would feed a family of fourteen for a fortnight. There's a mountain of prawns, two crabs, fish stew and a whole plaice. Fuck me, that's a lot of food.

A massive pile of prawns, a sole, two crabs, rice and chips.

We’re informed that they’ve run out of cachaça and will have to use vodka in the caipirinhas. You what?

“How can they have no cachaça?” I remark. “This is Brazil, after all.”

Obviously, we can't finish all the food. We barely make a dent in it. Despite it being delicious. Which is a bit of a shame.

Thomas turns up after a while.

“I thought you were going to Starfish.”

“That didn’t work out.”

He sits on a different table of judges. Ours is already full.

We share an Uber back to the hotel. Unlike some of the others, who continue on to Starfish. I'm too sensible for that. I remember how I felt this morning after too little sleep. As it is, it's after 11 when I get back.

I watch Match of the Day 2 while sipping some cheapo vodka. It pursues me along the narrow path to sleep.



Boka's Restaurante
Av. Marginal Oeste, 60
Vila Real,
Balneário Camboriú
SC, 88340-000.




Disclaimer: my hotel and some meals in Balneário Camboriú were paid for Concurso Brasiliero de Cervejas.