Night flight to Chile

And here we go again. With more reports of yet another trip to South America. Not sure why this keeps happening. Other than that I love the continent and keep asking people to invite me there.

 

It's a late start. My flight isn't until 20:50. Meaning that I don't leave home until 17:40.

Schiphol isn't that busy. Especially not my pushing in bit. There's not even a queue at passport control, for once. Now there's a novelty. Before I know it, I'm in the duty free with a bottle of Tomatin in my hand.

An orange juice and a whisky in the KLM lounge at Schiphol.

Plenty of seats in the lounge. Where I do something strange. I get two drinks. But only one is a whisky. The other is orange juice. I get myself a plate of food as well. Dauphinoise potatoes and beef stroganoff. Which isn't bad.

When I go back for more food, the stroganoff has been replaced by chicken rendang. Not very authentic, but tasty enough. I read Private Eye between sips and chomps.

Chicken rendang, potatoes, orange juice, whisky and a banana.

I get myself another whisky. Just the one. I don't want to be wrecked before I get on the plane. Who wants to be a plane wreck?

My flight is delayed by 15 minutes. Do I believe that? It’s always longer than the first announcement. Often like a creeping barrage, advancing by 30 minutes every half hour.

When I wander down to the gate, I realise I’ve fucked my timing. They’re still a way off boarding. I have a bit of hanging around. Which is what I hate. Thankfully, it's not too long.

We leave about thirty minutes late. Not having a connecting flight, I couldn't really give a toss.

After another inspiring KLM meal, I get my head down. And have a good 5 or 6 hours kip. Which is a win. Then I have another 3 or 4 hours dozing. Making the time fly by. So to speak.

Woken up, I watch 17 Again. Which is total bollocks, but distracting enough, I suppose.

We land in Buenos Aires at around 5:30. We trail off the plane and through security again. We're at gate 10. Which is right next to the bar I drank in last year. As I have time, I get myself an IPA. OK, it's 6 AM. But I'm in an airport, so that's OK. It's not bad. The IPA, I mean.

Chachingo Beer Corner bar in Buenos Aires airport.

We load back onto the plane at around 7 AM. This is such fun.

I watch some TV. They bring us a spinach pastry which is adequately edible. I wash it down with a red wine. Which is eminently drinkable.

Immigration is quieter than usual. I get into the oldie person queue. Which goes slowly. One woman takes ages to process. The agent leaves his booth a couple of times, presumably to get advice.

I don't have to wait for my bag - hooray! And there are people with a car waiting to collect me. Even better. It's not long before we're bouncing down the motorway.

While I'm checking in, I bump into another two judges, Richard Dubé and Andreas Kält. Who are headed into town for a little tour.

“Do you want to join us?”

“Why not? I’ve nothing else planned.”

“Meet us down here in 45 minutes.”

There’s my afternoon sorted. But first, it's time to drop my shit in my room and freshen up. It doesn't take long. I'm feeling incredibly chipper, considering the 18-hour flight.

Richard has a list of places he wants to visit. We start by getting an Uber to Plaza de Armas. And then go for a wander. Until we get to Dominó, a completo (Chilean hotdog) place, Where the others order hotdogs. While I plump for cheese empanadas. 

Cheese empanadas, pisco sours, hotdogs and chips on a table.

And a pisco sour. I am in Chile, after all. It’s my first of the trip. Thus, one of huge significance. You always remember your first, they say. I suspect I’ll struggle to recall much about this particular pisco sour by the end of the afternoon.

We sit outside. Where it’s very pleasant in the shade. Shoppers stream past, as we sip sophisticatedly on our drinks. Only time for the two piscos. Other places to visit.

It's a bit of a walk over to our next destination, the central market. The city centre is bustling with people going about their business. Office workers in suits and ties dodge between strolling students. Everywhere impromptu markets offer anything imaginable from blankets on the ground. Typical Chile. Every day and everywhere is market day.

A dog lying in the sun in front of a fruit and veg market stall.

We quickly glance around the official market. Which is much less impressive than Temuco’s. And a lot smaller than I expected.

In one of the buildings encircling the market hall, we get meat empanadas at Emporio Zonino, a famous pie shop. Which explains the queue. The empanadas are excellent, but boiling hot. Making them a bit painful to eat.

The empanadas in Emporio Zonino.

Finally, what I’ve been looking forward to all day: Pisco Republic. While Richard is off looking around more of the city, Andreas and I sit in the garden at the rear. We start with flights. Artisanal for him, premium for me. Very good, they are. And quite diverse in flavour. Ranging from intensely fruity to darkly oaky.

A Pisco Republic pisco sour with a star in the foam.

When Richard joins us, we move on to pisco sours. Which are rather nice. Even though I'm using a cheap pisco in mine. So nice are the piscos, we have a few. There’s time enough. Why not use it wisely?

We get an Uber to Flannery’s Irish Geo Pub, where tonight’s judges’ reception is. We're upstairs. There's a fruit beer on draught which is quite pleasant. In a soft, fruity, red way.

I'm surprised to see Martyn here. He collapsed on the plane and had to receive emergency medical treatment in the airport. He seems fine now, thankfully.

We do some drinking, eating and chatting. Chris Flaskamp, the organiser, gives an introductory talk. It's all very jolly as I reacquaint myself with loads of the judges. So many of them were in Balneário Camboriú a couple of weeks ago.

I don't stay out too late. I need to be up around 7:30 tomorrow. Some Tomatin helps me into sleep’s sweet embrace.


Dominó
Paseo Estado 119,
8320224 Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.
https://domino.cl/


Mercado Central de Santiago
San Pablo,
Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.


Emporio Zunino
P.º Puente 801,
8320011 Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.
http://www.emporiozunino.cl/


Chipe Libre - República Independiente del Pisco
José Victorino Lastarria 282,
8320165 Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.
http://www.chipe-libre.cl/


Flannery's Irish Geo Pub
Encomenderos 179,
7550152 Las Condes,
Región Metropolitana.



Disclaimer: a fee, my hotel and some meals were paid the Chile Independent Beer Week.
 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1883 Truman (Burton) PA 2

Next up, strength-wise, is PA 2. The running version. We’ll be seeing the stock version in a minute.

There’s not much to say about the recipe. Not just because there are very few ingredients. But, also, because it was parti-gyled with the Pale Ale above. You can read my comments on the ingredients in that recipe.

What more can I say? It’s very similar to Pale Ale, except that there’s a little more of everything in it. Malt, copper hops and dry hops.

As with Pale Ale, it would not have undergone any lengthy ageing. No more than three months, in trade casks.
 

1883 Truman (Burton) PA 2
pale malt	14.50 lb	100.00%
Fuggles 180 mins	2.25 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.25 oz
OG	1062
FG	1017.5
ABV	5.89
Apparent attenuation	71.77%
IBU	80
SRM	5
Mash at	150º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	180 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	WLP013 London Ale (Worthington White Shield)

 

 

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part sixty-five)

We're getting close to the end now. Both of this series anf of the Whitbread breweries.

Did Whitbread close more breweries than anyone else? Not sure. But I doubt anyone beat them in the 1970s and 1980s.Though one of today's set lasted until the 1990s. Well done Tennant.

Speaking of Tennant, they were the original owners of the pub on our caravan site. My Dad must have drunk their beer. Pretty sure he drank Bitter, so it would either have been Trophy or Queen's Ale. Tennant was also the inventor of Gold Label. A beer with which I have a weird obsession. I've been trying to get someone to brew a 1950s version for years.

I did try the revived Chesters Mil a few times. I thought it was decent enough, though nothing outstanding.


Tennant
Sheffield,
South Yorkshire.
Founded:    1820
Closed:            1993
Tied houses:    700

Bought 1961. No cask beer in the 1970s. Reintroduced cask in the early 1980s.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Queen's Ale	Pale Ale	keg	1044
Trophy	Pale Ale	keg	1037
Gold Label	Barley Wine	bottled	1101.3	blended and matured

Threlfall (Liverpool)
Liverpool,
Merseyside.
Founded:    1818
Closed:            1982
Tied houses:    

Bought in 1967. Reintroduced cask beer at the end of the 1970s. Though I never drank it.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Special Cask Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1041	dry, full-bodied
Trophy	Pale Ale	keg

Threlfall (Salford)
Salford,
Greater Manchester.
Founded:    1861
Closed:            1988
Tied houses:    

Bought in 1967. Produced no cask in the 1970s. In the early 1980s they brewed a couple of Chesters branded cask beers.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Trophy	Pale Ale	keg	1033.6
Chesters Best Mild	Mild	keg		dark

 

The above is an excerpt from my latest book, "Keg!".

Get your copy of "Keg!" now!

 

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part sixty-four)

Yes, I'm still not finished with what is by far my longest series of posts ever.

Three more Whitbread breweries. All from parts of the country I never got to. And all of which closed in the space of a few years. In the late 1970s and early 1980s Whitbread closed a whole load of their many breweries. Quite often the really good ones. Were any of these really good ones? I've no idea, as I never drank any of the beers.

Let me know if you ever drank any of these beers and if they were any good.


Rhymney
Rhymney.
Wales.
Founded:         1839
Closed:            1978
Tied houses:    

Bought 1966. I never got anywhere near their beer.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Amber	Pale Ale	draught	1033.8	light, unexceptional
WBM	Mild	draught	1034.1	bland
Starbright	Pale Ale	keg	1032.1	low gravity
Ski Lager	Lager	bottled

Starkey, Knight & Ford
Tiverton,
Devon.
Founded:         1852
Closed:            1982
Tied houses:    

Bought in 1962. Came into Whitbread’s hands via Norman & Pring. Never tried the beer myself. The didn’t do much cask. 

beer	style	format	OG	description
Best Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1039	Clear, light, bitter.
Trophy	Pale Ale	draught	1035.8	bland
Tivvy	Brown Ale	bottled

Strong
Romsey,
Hampshire.
Founded:         1778
Closed:            1981
Tied houses:    940

Bought 1969. Brewed a fair bit of cask. Not that I ever got to try it.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Trophy	Pale Ale	draught	1037.8	hoppy
Mild	Mild	draught	1031.5	dark, fruity
Golden IPA	IPA	bottled
Romsey Brown	Brown Ale	bottled		medium sweet

The above is an excerpt from my latest book, "Keg!".

Get your copy of "Keg!" now!

 

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part sixty-three)

Three more Whitbread breweries. Only one of which is still open. Despite two of them being brand new plants.

The Luton brewery replaced both the J.W. Green/Flowers plant, which had also been in Luton, and Whitbread's original Chiswell Street premises. It wasn't a happy place, troubled by poor industrial relations during its short life. I did try the version of Best Mild brewed there. It was shit: bland and insipid.

I drank Castle Eden beer quite a few times and was pretty impressed. No idea why this continued to brew cask when it was discontinued by all of Whitbread's other northern breweries.

Obviously, I never touched a drop from Magor, Whitbread's big Welsh keg factory.


Luton
Luton,
Bedfordshire.
Founded:    1969
Closed:            1984
Tied houses:    

One of Whitbread’s new, large breweries. Plagued by poor industrial relations, it didn’t last long. No cask.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Best Mild	Mild	keg	1030.8
Trophy	Pale Ale	keg	1035.8
Tankard	Pale Ale	keg	1039.3
Mackeson	Stout	bottled	1038.8	sweet
Heineken Pils	Lager	keg	1032.8

Magor
Magor,
Wales.
Founded:    1979
Closed:            still open
Tied houses:    

Another new, large brewery. One which has lasted. No cask.


Nimmo
Castle Eden,
County Durham.
Founded:    1825
Closed:            2002
Tied houses:    202

Bought in 1963. Formerly West Country Breweries. In the 1970s, the only Whitbread brewery in the North that produced cask beer. Pretty good stuff.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Trophy	Pale Ale	draught	1041	pleasant, hoppy

Time for yet another plug of my latest book, "Keg!". From which this is an excerpt.

Get your copy of "Keg!" now!

 

 

Let's Brew - 1883 Truman (Burton) Pale Ale

A Truman's Light Ale label.

Time to get on with the Pale Ales. Starting, being logical with the weakest, Pale Ale. And one which I think we can all agree is not an IPA. Which won’t be as easy to determine as we move up the strength range.

Speaking of strength, it’s more than decent, by modern standards. Especially, when you consider that it’s the weakest of the bunch.

The simplest grist: 100% pale malt. That pretty much ends the discussion.

More to talk about with the hops. Three types, which all seem to be English. One of which seems to be described as “Truman”. From the brewery’s own hop gardens.

Was this aged? I don’t think so. Or not for long. Three months at most.

1883 Truman (Burton) Pale Ale
pale malt	13.50 lb	100.00%
Fuggles 180 mins	2.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	2.00 oz
Goldings 30 mins	2.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1058
FG	1016.5
ABV	5.49
Apparent attenuation	71.55%
IBU	73
SRM	5
Mash at	150º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	180 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	WLP013 London Ale (Worthington White Shield)

 

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part sixty-two)

It's going to take a while to churn through all the Whitbread breweries. They bought so many of the damn things. Then closed them again.

I drank beer from two of the three featured today. Fremlin I drank mostly on the odd occasion I was in Kent. Where it was served in lots of pubs. And pretty decent stuff.

Kirkstall brewed no cask in the 1970s, so obviously I wouldn't have drunk that filth. Hang on, though. I did get some quarts of Whitbread beer from Fisher's corner shop on Brudenell Road. That must have been from Kirkstall. Sad that I can't remember anything about it. Other than that it came in internal screw quart bottles. Which weren't used much by the 1970s.


Fremlin (Faversham)
Faversham,
Kent.
Founded:         1700s
Closed:            1990
Tied houses:    

Bought in 1967. Originally Rigden, bought by Fremlin in 1948. Their cask beers were pretty good.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Tusker	Pale Ale	draught	1046
Trophy	Pale Ale	draught	1037	Pleasant bitter but rather thin.
Gauntlet	Pale Ale	keg		strong Bitter
AK	Mild	keg		pale
XX	Mild	keg	1033.0	dark
3 Star	Pale Ale	keg	1037.0
DA	Pale Ale	bottled	1028.0
LA	Light Ale	bottled	1033.0
Special Stout	Stout	bottled	1039.2
Nourishing Stout	Stout	bottled	1031.9
County Ale	Pale Ale	bottled	1049.5
IPA	IPA	bottled	1027.9
English Stock Bitter Ale	Pale Ale	bottled	1048.1
Elephant Light Ale	Pale Ale	bottled	1032.6
Queens Ale	Strong Ale	bottled	1053.3
Double Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled	1032.2

Fremlin (Maidstone)
Maidstone,
Kent.
Founded:         1790
Closed:            1972
Tied houses:    714

Bought in 1967. The original Fremlin brewery.



Kirkstall
Leeds,
West Yorkshire.
Founded:         1834
Closed:            1983
Tied houses:    

Bought 1953. Brewed no cask beer in the 1970s. Brewed some BYB-branded cask in the early 1980s. 

Time for yet another plug of my latest book, "Keg!". From which this is an excerpt.

Get your copy of "Keg!" now!

Flying home

I rise at 7:30. Planning to eat breakfast, finish packing and then grab an Uber.

Despite being a good boy yesterday, I’m feeling quite tired. Some coffee livens me up a bit.  And I get some energy from scrambled egg, cheese and ham. And orange juice, of course.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, cheese, ham, orange juice and coffee.

I’ve still got a fair amount of hotel cachaça left. I decant it into a half-empty cola bottle. Het presto – an Uber drink.

By the time I’ve checked out, it’s 8:45. I have a bit of a wait for an Uber. But I’ve plenty of time. My flight isn’t until 11:35.

The traffic is quite heavy. We slow almost to a standstill at certain points. Especially where there are road works. But we always soon get going again. I’m in no great hurry. I’ve left loads of time. Because I’d rather hang around for an hour than have to rush.

Swigs of my special cola drink help keep me calm. So calm that I start nodding off. Now there’s an oldie way to start the day. Falling asleep just after getting up.

It’s well before 10 when we roll up at Navegantes airport.

It doesn’t take long to check in my bag. What to do now? That looks quite a nice café. And I’m still feeling a bit knacked. A nice cappuccino should do nicely. It’s so nice, I get a second. And a chocolate thing. Need to keep my energy levels up. And my eyes open.

A cappuccino and chocolate biscuit.

Gol are boarding very early again. They’re already on group 2 when I get down there. I basically walk straight through out onto the tarmac, up the stairs and into my seat. Which is 2C.

Nothing much happens on the brief flight. Other than it taking ages for then to open the doors after landing. With us eventually disembarking from the rear.

My GOL aircraft from Navegantes.

It’s quite a walk to the international terminal. It takes around 15 minutes to get there from my bag pickup. Wisely, I’ve grabbed a trolley. Which makes things easier.

I’m slightly worried about whether I’ll be able to check in yet. It’s more than 8 hours until my flight. I ask the nice young lady at the desk:

“Can I check in for the Amsterdam flight?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Brilliant. No hanging around landside. Where I have to pay.

I have priority all the way to the duty free. I already have three bottles of cachaça in my check-in bag. But you know, you can never have too much cachaça. Not when Andrew is around.

I also pick up some sweets and chocolates for Alexei. The woman in front of me in the queue for the till drops her cachaça variety pack. It lands with crash and leaks all over the floor. The fruity smell of the spirit fills the air. I feel for her. I’ve done exactly the same thing myself with a bottle of whisky in Schiphol duty free.

The lounge is in a different location to most of the others. Almost at the end of the international pier, next to gate 327. It takes a while to walk there.

Lounge whisky.

I remember this lounge being pretty small. There aren’t a great number of free seats. I get one at a desk with lots of sockets, clearly intended for those with laptops. None of them seem to work.

After a while there’s a crackling noise followed by a burnt smell. Looks like some sort of short is occurring under the table. The staff requests I move to a safer seat. They don’t have to ask twice.

Luckily, my laptop has a long battery life and is fully-charged. I fire it up and get myself a whisky. And stuff to nibble on: olives, tomatoes, those funny little red things, grapes.

An email tells me that my flight is delayed by an hour and fifty minutes. Great! I’ll be getting even more value from this lounge.

Being here for a long time, I don’t go too crazy with the whisky. Fancying a change, I plump for a gin and tonic. The server begins by completely filling the glass with ice. Back at my seat, I shovel out handfuls into an empty whisky glass. And the drink is still too cold and too fucking watery. I revert to whisky for my next drink.

View of the runway at Sao Paulo airport from the lounge.

I entertain myself watching old clips of Mock the Week. It passes the time nicely. The many, many hours I have to wait.

When the display finally says “go to gate”, I trundle down there. Quite a mob has beaten me to it. Most of it in the priority queue.

There being no air bridge, we pack into buses. This is such fun.

As soon as we take off, I settle back to get some kip. Not even bothering to get my headphones out. The meal isn’t too dreadful. Some sort of chicken and mash. I eat more than half of it

Then lie back for some kip. I doze on and off for 5 or 6 hours.

The view from my seat on the plane.

With about 2 hours to go, they switch on the cabin lights. Rather than just stare into space, I unload my headphones and watch some stuff. Several episodes of The Frsnchise. Which s OK, I suppose. Vaguely amusing.

Breakfast is, I think, some sort of tomato omelette. It’s alright, in a rubbery sort of way. The coffee and orange juice are more welcome.

I’m feeling remarkably chipper considering I’ve been travelling for over 24 hours. Though for more than half of it I was either lounging in the lounge or asleep.

It’s 13:20 when we touch down. Not much longer and I waltzing straight into one of the electronic gates. Once again staff direct Dutch passport holders in Dutch to the automatic gates. What about other EU passport holders. Aren’t they entitled to use then, too?

Luggage will be arriving on carousel 22. About as far away as you can get. It takes a while for my bag to emerge. Not too crazy long. Just long enough to be annoying. Even so, it’s only about an hour after touching down when stumble through my front door. To an empty house.

Dolores is at a meeting, Alexei is out cycling and Andrew is still in bed. I have to make my own tea.



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

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1887 Truman (Burton) No. 3 Stock

A Truman's No. 1 Burton Barley Wine label.

I’m afraid that this is where we end with the numbered Burton Ales. Not because Nos. 1 and 2 didn’t exist. It’s just that I don’t have any log photos for them. Just bad luck, I guess. And the fact that such strong beers wouldn’t have been brewed very often.

No surprises in the grist. Other than that there’s sugar in a Stock Ale, for once. Making up around 8% of the total. All the rest is base pale malt. As you would expect.

Just one type of Worcester hops from the 1886 harvest. But rather a lot of them: 11.5 lbs per quarter (336 LBS) of malt. That heavy hopping is reflected in the bitterness of 101 IBU (calculated).

Though that bitterness would have mellowed by the time this beer was drunk. As it would have been aged for probably 18 to 24 months. After which it was likely blended with a Runner. 

1887 Truman (Burton) No. 3 Stock
pale malt	18.25 lb	91.25%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.75 lb	8.75%
Fuggles 180 mins	3.50 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	3.50 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	3.50 oz
OG	1092
FG	1024
ABV	9.00
Apparent attenuation	73.91%
IBU	101
SRM	10
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	180 minutes
pitching temp	54º F
Yeast	WLP013 London Ale (Worthington White Shield)

I speak!

I rise at 8 after a long, long sleep. I feel so much better. It seems like every day this trip I've had an hour too little sleep. Or more.

I've arranged to meet Thomas for breakfast at 9.

I have the same breakfast as always. I love living life on the edge. I spend a couple of hours chatting with Thomas.

A breakfast pudding of guava, pineapple, orange juice and coffee.

Doug turns up and tells me that a car will be picking me up at 18:30 tonight to take me to my talk. That's cool.

I arrange to meet Thomas downstairs at 12 to go into town for drinks and food. We decide on de Marchand taproom. But it isn't open. Instead, we wander down onto the seafront and go into a random restaurant, Casa do Camarão. And order caipirinhas.

I start with a couple of strawberry ones. Along with some cod balls. Which are tiny. The two combined are smaller than one in Colarinho. And cost more.

Tiny cod balls.

A couple of Italian judges join us. And I get a passion fruit caipirinha. Which is dead good.

We decide to go somewhere cheaper to eat. A buffet place. Where it's about 12 euros for as much as you can eat. Deep-fried sushi is available again. I get various meats, loads of battered prawns, sushi, some meat bits, half a tomato, a few slices of beetroot and some pickled chili. A totally normal combination. At least here.

There are two choices: all you can eat for 75 reals, or 105 per kilo. Which means, if you want good value, load up you plate with a kilo of food all you can eat. If you're only going for 500 gm, pay per kilo.

A buffet lunch of potato, beetroot, sushi, boiled eggs, tomato and various meat.

As all the tables downstairs are taken, we head upstairs. Where there’s loads more room.

When I try to order an Uber to take us back to the hotel, my phone goes all weird. I don't see to have a mobile connection. Fuck. Have I used all my data? We go back to the buffet place and log on to their wifi to order the Uber. Which is an extortionate 1.50 euros.

On the way back, my connection reappears. Maybe all those highrises were to blame for my inability to connect.

Back at the hotel, I say goodbye to Thomas. Who is flying back to Atlanta. When will I see him again? Who knows?

Luc is already waiting for our car to the festival when I step outside the hotel. It doesn't show up at 18:30 or even 19:00, when Luc is supposed to be giving his talk. He's pissed off. And with good reason.

Me? I'm in South American mode. It will arrive when it arrives. Which is 19:10. There are already two passengers.

"Just as well we're all good friends." I remark. It's very intimate on the back seats.

Inside the hall, I grab myself a glass and go into the festival to find a beer. Any beer, really. On the way in, I bump into Tina.

The Green Coast stand at the beer festival.

"It's empty inside." she says. That's just how I like my beer festivals. Though the music is loud. Very loud.

There's a bit in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy about a rock band. Where the best place to listen to their concerts is in a concrete bunker 20 miles from the stage. I'm wishing I could find that bunker.

I have to shout into the ear of the server to get my NZ IPA. Three times.

“Why do they have music so loud?” I ask Tina.

“What?”

“Why do they have music so loud?”

“What?”

“Oh, forget it.”

“Almost seven forty-five.”

The location of the talks is cleverly hidden behind the counter where glasses are handed out. No chance of any random punters stumbling across it accidentally. Or even finding it if they’re looking for it.

There are nine of us for Luc's talk. It thins out after he's dome. One hand is enough to count my crowd. Including the staff. And me.

My talk goes quite well. Is that despite or because of the small crowd? Who knows?

Do I mind that the attendance was so poor? Not really. I don’t expect things to always go smoothly. I’ve learnt to just take things as they come, when I’m in South America. As long as one person enjoyed it, I’m happy. Easily pleased or at peace with myself? You decide.

Okcidenta stall at the beer festival.

I head back into the festival with Tina. And we bump into Rafaelo. Who is in Bavarian gear today, in honour of it being a beer festival. He points us to an Argentinian brewery with barrel-aged stuff. I get myself an Imperial Stout. With a head almost as dark as the beer itself. Just my sort of beer.

When I've finished it, I fuck off. I need to be up fairly early. For a long journey. And I don't want to start out feeling shit. I'll be seeing Rafaelo in a few weeks in Chile. And Tina after a few more in Rotterdam. No need to torture myself for social reasons.

Outside, it's raining. Proper Brazilian rain. Not quite as bad as earlier. Like the world won’t be ending until tomorrow. Not in just a couple of hours.

As we swish through the deluge, I reflect on the trip. Much like the rain, it's been intense and enveloping. Unlike the rain, it's also been lots of fun.

I'm in my room by 9:30. What a good boy you've been, Ronald. You deserve that cachaça nightcap.



Casa do Camarão
Ed. Imperador - Av. Atlântica, 2100
Centro, Balneário Camboriú
SC, 88330-666.


Restaurante Tempero e Sabor
R. 1700, n 193
Centro, Balneário Camboriú
SC, 88330-514.


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