Friday, 22 March 2024

Off to judge

A 7:00 AM start today, as my flight is at 10:00. I have my usual breakfast. It being earlier, the breakfast room is much emptier. As it will be quite a complicated journey, I eat some extra fruit.

After eating, I quickly pack and go downstairs to check out. Before you know it, I’m rocking and rolling through Rio in an Uber.

Check in is a doddle. And soon I’m sitting at the same bar as last time, sipping a caipirinha. It’s not far to my gate, thankfully. Where quite a few people are hanging around. Departure time comes and goes with no sign of boarding. Great. My connection in Sao Paolo is quite short.

We eventually board about 30 minutes late. The flight is pretty short. Before we land, there’s an announcement in Portuguese that mentions Navegantes. Are they talking about the connection?

Landing is pretty scary again. As soon as we hit the tarmac, the pilot jams on the brakes. It’s a pretty short runway.

Once off the plane, I look for the gate of my connecting flight. It’s the same one I just arrived at. No need to worry about missing the connection, as it’s the same plane. When we get back on, I notice some people never got off. That must have been what the announcement was about.

Another short flight has me in Navegantes. Where my bag soon rolls onto the carousel. Just a few metres away, my driver is waiting for me. In a couple of minutes we’re boinging down the highway. That was fairly painless.

The scenery around is as lush as ever as we race inland. Towering clouds billow above the hills. Flat, fecund fields spreading between them. Very impressive. Despite this, I start to doze during the hour so it takes to get to Blumenau.

After checking in, I head down the road to the supermarket. Man, it’s hot. Too hot for me. Much worse than Rio. I’m covered in sweat by the time I get to the shop. Where I stock up on provisions. I need some food, as I haven’t eaten since my early breakfast.

When I get back to my room, I’m covered in sweat. Time for a shower. After fiddling around for a while, I only seem to get cold water. A quick cold shower it is, then. I’m so hot I don’t actually mind.

There’s time to recover a little before the dinner in the evening. So that’s what I do. Watching some crap on my computer.

I wander downstairs at 18:50. 10 minutes before the bus is due to leave. I bump into Chris Flaskamp and we have a bit of a chat.

At the evening’s venue, Restaurante Moinho do Vale, we sit at a table together. Along with Alex Barlow and Thomas Sjoberg. And a German hop grower and his wife. A good group.

A quick look at the beer list tells me one thing. As I remember the beers from last year. That Quadrupel will come in a 75cl bottle. So that’s what I order. It’ll save lots of pissing around.

There’s a cold buffet to start. And rollmops, if your stomach is up to them. Which I don’t think mine is, at this particular moment. Cheese is another matter.

Things kick off with a lot of speeches. And then awards to various people in Brazilian brewing.

“You’d better get ready to get on stage.” Chris tells me.

“What?”

“They’re about to give you an award.”

That’s a surprise. I’ve never had an award before. My main concern is that my shorts will fall down while I’m walking up to collect it. That doesn’t happen. Quite.

I genuinely don’t know what to think. The award itself is quite impressive. A solid sheet of metal. That’ll go nicely over my desk.

The food is a buffet, obviously. I’m a bit past eating when it’s served at 21:30. I’m feeling totally knacked, to be honest. I can’t wait for 23:00 to roll around when I can get the bus back to the hotel.

Some of the others head off for a nightcap. I just want to get to my bed. The bus to the judging location is at 8:00, so I’ll need to be up before 7:00. I don’t want to start tomorrow dead on my feet.

There’s just time for a little hotel whisky to gently nudge me over the edge into sleep.



Restaurante Moinho do Vale
R. Porto Rico, 66
Ponta Aguda,
Blumenau
SC, 89050-010.
https://www.restaurantemoinhodovale.com.br/
 

2 comments:

A Brew Rat said...

No picture of the award?

Steve D. 'Pudgy' said...

Ohmigawd! There is a name I never again expected to see. I saw Thomas Sjoberg when he played for the 1979 Chicago STING. He scored 13 goals in only 17 games.