All I have to do today is get downstairs before ten for breakfast. I just about manage.
A fruit breakfast again. I've been trying to eat as healthily as possible. Four different types of fruit today. I’m still feeling knackered. No gallivanting about and a very early night. That’s the plan.
After eating, I doss around in my room for a while and work out where I’m headed later.
Around midday, I walk down the hill to the city centre. A bit of light shopping first. As I’m headed to the supermarket, I spot a chemist and nip in there. A couple of things I need to pick up.
When you don’t give a fuck about looking an idiot, shopping without a language in common can be quite fun. It's amazing how far the odd word and hand gestures can get you, even when buying medicine.
After a few minutes of non-verbal communication, I get what I want and go to the till. Where the charming young woman chats away with me in pretty good English. That’s Brazil for you. Delightfully random.
In the supermarket, I make directly for the booze section Which isn’t bad. I would get some cachaca for the kids. But then I’d have to check in my bag at Florianopolis. It’s easier just to pick it up at Sao Paulo duty free. Instead, I get myself a bottle of rum. And some chocolate and cheese. Typical shopping, really.
I’ve pencilled in Boss Beer in the old central market for food. Mostly because the name includes the word “beer”. And it’s easy to find. I can’t be doing with too much messing around. Easy is the key word today.
It’s also handy, as Boss Beer is at one end of the market. No fiddling about walking to one of the places in the middle along crowded narrow corridors.
There’s a selection of draught beer: Lohn Pilsner, Schorstein IPA and Roseta Rossa Session IPA. I order a caipirinha. Why? Past experience has taught me to be wary of craft beer in non-specialist places in Brazil. Had a terribly oxidised Eisenbahn IPA at another place in the market last year.
There’s a band playing in the centre of the market. Covers of English-language songs, mostly. There’s also political noise from Lula supporter. The final round of the presidential election is tomorrow. Hopefully, it will all run smoothly. But will the pubs be open?
Another caipirinha is in order. It’s another warm day: 28º C. Not great for me. And the sun isn’t even out.
The second caipirinha seems to be settling my gut. Half-way down and I’m starting to feel vaguely human again. So much better, I may even eat.
I order some oysters as they are apparently a local speciality. They cost an extortionate 1 euro each. Then a pasty with some lurid green sauce. Pretty good. You can’t go wrong with a pie.
A third caipirinha has me on top of the world. I wouldn’t like to overdo it, mind. That will be enough for today. I have to climb back up that hill, after all. Three decades of living in Holland have left me terrified of the slightest incline.
It’s about 15:30 when I walk back. Pretty much everything in town is shut. It’s like the old days in Germany. Spooky.
I lounge around in my room for a while. And fancy a rum. I struggle to get the top off with my weakened wrist. I drop down to reception where a nice gentleman opens it for me.
Feeling that slices of cheese and chocolate isn't a full evening meal, I nip to the little corner shop and get a sandwich and a bag of nachos. I beef up the sarnie with extra cheese. That's better.
I watch Match of the Day from Wednesday and today. What has happened to Newcastle? Someone has taught them how to defend.
I retire early - 21:45. I need my sleep.
Luckily I have my rum friend along for the ride.
Largo da Alfândega