My wrist is aching a treat. As I have nothing planned today, I trundle down for breakfast about 9:30. Where I sit with Thomas Sjöberg and eat fruit. And hang around talking all things beer until almost midday
The dancing yesterday seems to have helped my cough. Though I haven't completely stopped hacking up my lungs.
A bit after noon I wander down to the beach, grab a seat in the shade and order a caipirinha. After a while several judges come up and sit beside me - Em, Gordon, Shane and others. I have the one caipririnha and four little meat pasties. Which are pretty nice.
I opt for the early (4 PM) bus to the awards ceremony in the Hard Rock Live. It's much further away than I expected, on the mainland. it takes almost 90 minutes to get there, what with the traffic.
It’s a barn of a place, obviously designed for live music. Around the outside is a row of self-serve tap units. Where to start? Which is the strongest? Bodebrolin Double Perigosa sounds like it. 25% ABV. That’ll do. I may as well get a full measure.
I grab one of the few seats. I really can't be doing with hours of standing. My crappy old body isn't up to that any more. I chat with Kjertil, who has to bugger off early on account of a flight at stupid o’clock tomorrow.
My next beer is a step down: Satelite Galactic Valley 2 Fazenda at just 7% ABV.. That looks a bit sludgy. Damn. I should have looked at the style: Hazy IPA. Oh well, I’m not going to waste it.
I sort of wish I’d just stayed on the beach drinking caipirinhas until sunset. Then crawled off to bed. My energy levels are really low. I’m coughing like mad again. And my wrist is throbbing like a badly-tuned moped. Other than that, I feel great.
Maybe I should have something to eat. I get something from one of the food trucks at the back. Selling meat on a stick. Beef first, followed by some chicken thing. Both come with a side of bacon-flavoured sand. Yum.
The ceremony is, as I expected, quite loud. Not as bad as earlier in the year in Blumenau, mind. And I have a seat. That’s the most important thing.
I finish with a Tupiniquim Pecan Imperial Stout at 12% ABV. It’s Stoutiliscious.
They rattle through the awards at a good pace. I’m grateful for that. Then it’s just waiting until it’s time for the bus back to the hotel.
I get the 10:30 bus. The early one. And doze all the way. This is a new level of knacked. So much so that I don't join Dick and friends for a caipirinha nightcap. Just flopping straight upstairs to my room. What have I become? An old git is the answer. A very tired old git.
A rum nudges me slumberwards. It doesn’t take much of a push.
Hard Rock Live Florianópolis
Brasil Beer Cup paid for my accommodation during the judging, as well as some food and drink.